enemies to lovers w lewis!! trope just fits him so well imo
Line without a hook
Summary: I don't really give a damn about the way you touch me.
Warnings: enemies to lovers, a bit of asshole!lewis and the reader is also a bit of an asshole, some mature language. W13 and W14 being shitty cars.
Word count: 3.8k
Note: WE COULDN'T NOT HAVE A CLASSIC HERE, RIGHT? I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers, so here we have one! Honestly? My best enemies to lovers written, mostly because I spent a little time ressearching about it (I started writing this afternoon) and building around it.
Guilt. That's what you felt, but another feeling managed to override it. Anger.
You were at the head of the W13 development and it was terrible, a complete disappointment. And the worst part?It was your first year in a high position in a manufacturer, all the other years you spent locked up in laboratories, you never even got to meet the race tracks or even the Mercedes drivers - unless there was some publicity they had to record inside the factory. I mean, you became friends with Mick because he was often there, but this story isn't about him.
W13 had failed and the blame fell on you and the other staff who worked on it, so you decided to put your heads down and rebuild everything, make the ideas from 0 for W14. Into that came your stress, it had a name - a powerful name - Lewis Hamilton. He spent a whole 2022 criticising the car, making suggestions that were promptly ignored by engineers higher than you, which resulted in him getting a bitter feeling about you all.
"He arrived with heavy steps inside the luxurious factory, his voice with the strong English accent bursting through the walls, he was indignant. You took a deep breath, ducking your head and went back to fiddling with some parts of the car, trying to avoid Hurricane Hamilton. But to your misfortune, he opened the door to the room next to Russell and Toto - who were just as frustrated. Unfortunately, you were the only person still in the room, it was already late at night, but you wouldn't sleep until you found out what the damn problem was with that wagon they called a car. Obviously none of them would remember your name, so you kept tidying up with your headphones blasting Beyoncé until impatient taps on your shoulder ended your moment of peace.
"Sorry... Well, I'm not the boss of that area yet, so unfortunately I'm not the one who decided that, sir." You replied, turning back to the car and sitting down on the ground.
"You guys didn't listen to my suggestions and now the car is shit." The black pilot sighed, crossing his arms.
"But you are important in that sector. That I am sure of."
"I commented to Lewis and George about who was in charge, so if they wanted to come with their questions, they could turn to you and the others." Wolff replied, which made your blood boil with hatred.
"How would you know that?"
"Sorry, that still doesn't give you the right to come at me with an accusatory tone, after all I'm not the one giving the final answer." You rolled your eyes, fitting the piece you had noticed and pulling out another to take to the analysis. "I know the car wasn't what you expected. Honestly, none of us expected it to happen. After the tests, we thought it just needed some repairs."
"I understand you're feeling that way, we're all working day and night to fix it."
"A few repairs? Wow. That's pretty subtle thinking that it underperformed. Compared to 2021 and 2020, it's useless."
"And where's the rest?"
"For God's sake!" You looked at the other two who were trying to distract themselves with things in the room so as not to focus on your argument with the number one Mercedes driver that could have you fired in a few seconds. "It's Saturday, almost 10 o'clock at night, the factory is far from the city, don't you think people deserve a rest? I stayed here because of my role as one of the heads of this project. I don't have the luxury to rest, I don't know if you understand that."
His eyebrows drew together and you could have sworn he would start shouting at any moment and cuss you out for the reaction you had, however he kept quiet and left the scene without another word. You stared at Toto for a few seconds and he told you to go home, working tired and hot headed wouldn't do you any good. And it was from that day on that you started to hate him."
2023, the first race of the W14 left a lot to be desired, George was still positive and willing to sacrifice his year for the evolution of the car, however not the seven-time champion, he wanted a competitive car. Half way through last year you were getting more seats and now you were the co-creator of the W14, which was heavy on your shoulders. Again, Hamilton and you were almost at each other's throats during the team briefing until Wolff gave you both a timeout. You quickly left the room, grabbing a coffee and sitting on the hospitality stairs. Within seconds, Mick sat down next to you.
"Yeah, Maybe he's taking it too heavily, but I don't take away the whole reason the car is missing the essentials. Competitiveness." The German huffed.
"Honey, you say that like I don't know.... Of course I do! But he could stop being a spoiled little boy. He's a grown man who needs to learn that we're constantly evolving and yes we're going to have some tough years and that can only be solved by us changing the car, which can sometimes take hours, days, months before we get back into our pace."
“I know, but in this meantime, Red Bull and Ferrari will be overcoming new things while we are stuck behind Aston Martin.” Lewis commented, passing by you two.
“No shit, Sherlock.” You snapped, walking away from both of them.
“That was too much, man.” Schumacher said, crossing his arms.
“I know… But that’s the reality, she knows what’s happening, so… It’s not my fault.”
“So it isn’t hers alone.”
It was late at night again, you had been up for almost 48 hours, sorting people, analysing statistics, fiddling with parts. Your body was screaming for rest and this could be seen clearly by anyone passing you. It was almost dawn and you were still in the pits, sitting on the floor with a few empty energy drink cans around you, four computers in front of you, and your headphones on. You heard footsteps, but at first you decided to ignore them, it wasn't important, the focus was to understand what the fuck was going on with W14. Suddenly a "tsc" could be heard, it was then that you turned your face and found yourself face to face with Lewis Hamilton, his body inches from yours - and what a body. You took a deep breath and backed away.
"What's wrong, your majesty?"
"There." He pointed at the screen.
"Yes. I'm trying to fix it."
"But you're not succeeding, excuse me." He placed his hands on the keyboard and you were completely distracted, sleep was catching up with you.
He kept typing and changing things, clicking, even removing the headphones from your head and putting them on it, staying for a few minutes, until he looked at you.
"For someone who's in such a high position, I can't believe you missed that." He cracked a cocky smile.
"Oh! I'm sorry Sir Hamilton for being up for almost 48 hours straight, trying to fix your car first because apparently it was put on my list against my will, however as a good employee for this team, I dedicated myself exclusively to your car." You retorted, sitting on some tires. Throwing your head back, you let out a big sigh and ran your hands over your face, feeling that if he was the slightest bit ruder, tears would leak from your eyes and you'd make a fool of yourself in front of him.
"Go back to the hotel, for God's sake. The race is tomorrow and no one can be tired, because that results in failure." He trailed off, looking you up and down. "And take a shower, you're in need."
The other day, you were still exhausted, yet better than a few hours ago. With a strong cup of coffee, clean clothes and a shower, you arrived still early in the morning, ordering everyone to do their respective jobs, while your stomach was screaming for food - you couldn't even remember when was the last time you'd eaten, so you quickly went and grabbed a sandwich to get through the day.
The race was okay, a podium, a fifth place. Could do better.
In that two-week gap without racing, you spent as much time as possible inside the factory, trying to fix the unconscionable and getting frustrated every time. This happened so often that there were moments you would disappear and hide to cry, feeling like a failure in that place - maybe a dismissal wasn't the end of the world, some other lesser team might want you.
Surprisingly, in the meantime, Lewis started showing up daily at the factory, working with everyone else - and charming everyone with his silly charm that made anyone fall in love with him. He chatted to people, asked them to bring snacks that you barely touched, your hunger seemed to disappear when he was near - along with all the tranquillity. Obviously, whenever he could, you exchanged insults and dry replies, something that could be observed from afar, but nobody dared to comment, for fear of being annihilated by one of you.
One fateful night he decided to stay late, so it was eleven o'clock at night and only the two of you were in the room. The silence was uncomfortable, deafening and suffocating, it seemed that in a few exchanges of glances you were stabbing each other. The passive-aggressiveness passed the moment you cried out in sort of relief, which caught his attention. Finally you had managed to solve a problem that had been bothering you for weeks and no one seemed to solve it. It seemed like a small victory, of many you wished were coming.
"What happened?" he asked in a dull tone.
"Look here! I managed to solve that one.... That..." It seemed as if the words had escaped his lips from so much euphoria he was feeling. "That shit that made Russell's car break down in the last race! It was so simple, but it needed a general approach, not so thorough..." You let a laugh escape your lips as he walked over to where you were standing.
"Oh." He was speechless too. As much as you said that this was a simple problem, he knew it wasn't, he had noticed your effort and frustration in the meantime, it was something extremely difficult that required patience and intelligence - things you had. "Let's take a break then, to celebrate."
You cracked a smile at him - the first time since you had met, which made him return the smile. The two of you walked together to where there were some tables after grabbing some food, no one else but you two. The silence settled again, but not as uncomfortable as before, it was neutral.
It was two am, and you still were working on the W14, but this time was improving, he made some hits and that was when you started to tease each other.
“Oh, I didn’t know that drivers could be this smart, I thought you guys dropped after a while and finished on homeschooling.” You teased him.
“Hey! I even studied engineering, you could pay some respect.” He held back a smile. “And it’s Sir Lewis Hamilton for you, I didn’t give you intimacy to just talk to me like that.”
“Someone’s feisty.” You chuckled. “Okay, sir.” You licked your lips, throwing yourself on the sofa. “Oops, sorry… Okay, Sir Lewis Hamilton, I’ll only call you like that now, majesty.”
He sucked in his breath, closing his fists before chuckling too. “And someone’s really going off the limits, maybe you should take care you know… I’m still your boss and I can do whatever I want.”
“Kinky. Power dynamics? I always thought you would want to be called daddy.” You played it off, holding your laugh.
“Oh God.” He started laughing loudly, joining his hands against his chin, before moving his head in a ‘no’ “We’re too sleep deprived to keep this.”
“Or too sober.”
“Don’t even try it, girl.” He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I’ll ask the guard to close the factory.”
After that night, your relationship became calmer. Sure, you still constantly traded insults and irony at every opportunity, but it was an evolution nonetheless - now they weren't aggressive, with a passive-aggressive undertone, it was more jokes and banter to take the edge off the team's rebuild with W14 - which by now, had made more decent progress, a win in the pocket.
You were working through some analysis of the car, when suddenly, a Lewis removing his t-shirt because of the heat caught you completely off guard, which made your cheeks boil with embarrassment and your eyes stare longingly at his pecs to the point where he noticed.
"See something you like?" he commented, flashing you a smug smile.
"I just think it's inappropriate for you to be shirtless in a workplace. You have a trailer for that." You shrugged, feeling an unbearable heat hit your body. He was hot and unfortunately your body agreed with that.
"All right then, Miss Goody Two-shoes." You pointed your middle finger at him as the British pilot walked off, while he returned the gesture still with that damn smile.
That night, he dreamed of you. Our brains like to play tricks and make us think crazy things. And that's exactly what it played with the black driver that night. Her hands roamed his body, laughter from both sides filled the room as he could see her silhouette in just purple lingerie, while he was only in his underwear. Your bodies were glued together, moving at an incredible pace, it was just about you two and no one else. No hate, no failing cars, no guilt.
He woke up panting, before the dream had its proper end. A tent settled in his shorts, which made him groan in denial, running his hands over his face, trying to forget the scene he had just dreamt, however it was almost impossible, it was something so sexy he couldn't let it go.
For the next few weeks, he ignored you almost completely, only showing up to talk about car stuff - be it suggestions or just complaining that they would never catch up with Red Bull by the end of the season, which made you even more stressed. It felt like you guys were back to stage one. At first, you even tried to ignore it and think that he wasn't in a good mood, but when it persisted, you were ready to strike back. Meanwhile, Hamilton's mind was a mess, he wasn't supposed to have dreamt about you, let alone gone on and on and on having recurring dreams about the two of you, let alone him noticing when the white shirt was too see-through and he knew what colour your bra was. It was getting to be too much for him and his defence mechanism was to try and walk away and go back to square one. He knew he'd been rude to you at first, but part of him didn't want to apologise, to accept that you could be friends-or even the possibility that he wanted something more.
It was another early morning at the Mercedes plant, now you were already thinking about the W15, because you knew that everything had gone wrong, but you refused to tell anyone. Early in the morning, Lewis went to his usual room and found you pacing back and forth, stressed about the possibility of them never getting out of this hole, of her never being able to make him win his eighth championship.
"Did someone fall out of bed? It's six-thirty in the morning." He said, soon sitting down at one of the desks and turning on his computer.
"To fall out, I should at least be asleep first." You retorted, banging your fist on the table in anger that again, the program was giving data that was incompatible with what you had planned.
"Again? Aren't you working too fucking much?" He questioned, which honestly was the last straw you needed to freak out. Even if he wasn't being rude.
"Yes, I've been working my ass off, Hamilton. I'm on the verge of burnout and you know whose fault it is? Yours! It's all on you!" Because I work day and night, I don't rest, I keep planning and recalculating everything just to please you, to make the car you want and still nothing is good, nobody is satisfied! You felt tears fall from your eyes, but this was not the time to care about that. "Do you know what it's like for a whole team to depend on your team of engineers and you're constantly letting everyone down? No! You don't." Her voice was already cracking with sobs. "I can't take it anymore! I can't stand living like this anymore. And still have people telling the world that I'm incompetent!" You completely lost the strength in your legs, falling to your knees on the floor and putting your hands to your face to cover your crying.
He waited for you to say everything you needed to say, to get your anguish off your chest, so that after you had stopped talking, he would get up and go to the floor with you, hugging your body and passing his free hand over your locks, letting you cry as much as you needed, just being comforted by his presence.
Your relationship got better after you had a breakdown in front of him, he understood you were going under a very stressful moment, because everyone seemed to only count on you, forgetting that they were a team. That day, he took you to your house, waited for you to get some comfortable clothes and ordered food. You didn’t talk about it, just enjoyed each other’s company in silence. And that’s how it worked between you two, until it didn’t work again.
Hamilton was restless, he felt the need to talk with you by text, calls, in person, would oftenly walk with very revealing looks and take off his shirt around you, just to see your face red with embarrassment and the deep looks on his torso.
He knew there was something more, but he waited. He tested the waters first, became slowly sweeter by the time, calmer and actually never complained to you again, he tried to be more positive and improve his work with the car you had. And that made you warm up towards him, he was actually capable of change, to be a very caring person when he liked the person.
When you started to have this sort of friendship, you felt guilty for snapping at him multiple times, the same way he felt bad for being so rude towards you the year before.
One day, he asked if you wanted to stay late on the paddock, so you could work on some things about W14, little things to improve for the race on Sunday afternoon. Of course you agreed, you have been doing that for months now, one night more it wouldn’t kill you.
The comfortable silence between you two was broken by him.
“I owe you an apology.” He whispered, like that was a forbidden subject.
“I…” You took a few seconds to realise. “I think I owe you one too.”
“So will we both be forgiven then?”
“I’m sorry. For being a brat and an entitled asshole… For not seeing you as a person, someone amazing that works like hell because she wants the best for everyone.” He got closer, touching your forearm.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you, multiple times. I should’ve been more mature.” You avoided looking at him, as much as his eyes were so hypnotising.
When you least expected it, your bodies were together in a very intimate hug. His hands around your hips, while your arms pressed his body against you.
“I’m not the only one feeling this, right?” He muttered, alternating his look between your eyes and lips.
And that he took as a consent to crash his lips against yours, in a desperate kiss, like he waited for such a long time to do that, in reaction, you intertwined one of your hands in his braids and the other lowered to his back, holding at his Mercedes black t-shirt. He soon lowered his hands to your thighs, pulling you to sit on top of some tyres. Your tongues were moving against each other, slow and needy, like a dream coming true. When air made it necessary, he held your waist and smiled.
“It took so long…” He whispered against your ear. “If I knew we only were horny for each other, we could have solved this a long time ago…” You could hear his cocky smile.
“Fuck you.” You muttered back, letting your fingers run on his neck. “If it was months ago… I would have denied it until my deathbed. I’m happy being in this state now.” You left some kisses along his jaw.
“Angel… Not here. Maybe my hotel room may be a more appropriate place for you to get all touchy like that.”
“Sad… I would love to have some risky sex in the paddock, sir.” You joked.
“Maybe someday. But let’s start at the most obvious place. A bed.” He held your hand and guided you to his car.
So… Sir Lewis Hamilton wasn’t so bad after all.
flowers and ink (part 1)
Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington
Summary: Steve and Robin work at a flower shop together. One day, the pair decides to get matching tattoos at the place across the street. You can probably guess who their artist turns out to be. (requested by @thereindeerlady)
part two, part three, part four part five part 6 part seven link to Ao3
Word Count: 2.6K
Warnings: This is just cute fluff, nothing too serious, modern day AU, Tattoo Artist!Eddie, platonic soulmates Steve and Robin, also I threw Bob Newby into the mix because I love him
A/N: I'm wrapping up the semester and am finally tackling my request list! Thank you for reading! :)
Robin applied to Flowers for All because a really pretty girl worked there and Robin needed a reason to go in and talk to her.
She was hired, then the pretty girl promptly quit. Also, she was straight and engaged to a man. That was a huge bummer.
Still, the job stuck, and since they were down an employee…
“No,” Steve said when she brought it up.
“Please?” Robin begged. “Come on, you hate your job and it’s been forever since we worked together. It would be just like old times and -”
“Robin, we never used to get anything done when we worked together. We were terrible employees.”
That was true, but it did not deter Robin from her master plan.
“Okay, well so far the only other applicant is the seventeen year old son of the owner who thinks the shop is actually a marijuana dispensary, and there’s no way I’m gonna work with that little twerp -”
“He didn’t take himself from the running when he found out you just sell literal flowers?” Steve asked, amused.
“I think he’s going to set up his own business in the back, honestly,” Robin sighed. “Please, I promise I’ll do everything and you can just hang out and -”
“Okay,” Steve said.
Robin wasn’t anticipating he’d agree to it so quickly.
“I said okay. Sure. Fine. Where’s the application?” Steve took his phone from his pocket to find the Flowers for All website. He clicked on the “apply now” button and scrolled through the questions.
There were basically no requirements. He just had to put in his name (Steve), education (high school), and any experience he’d had with flowers (none), and then boom, submitted.
He got an email the next day to come in for an interview. Robin was assigned to be the interviewer.
He got the job.
Eddie started as an apprentice for Ink About It when he was fresh out of high school. It was run by this dorky middle-aged man named Bob, who didn’t have any tattoos and initially seemed mismatched for the profession. Still, Bob was supportive and kind, and he let Eddie grow and thrive in the tattoo shop. He also happened to be amazing at working with clients and was a decent artist. Go figure.
“Hey, Eds?” Bob asked as he tapped his knuckles on the door. Eddie was on his break, snacking on some chips while watching YouTube on his phone.
“I was thinking of inviting Joyce’s son here sometime so he could see the place. He’s this great artist, and I think he’d love to meet you and see how we work here.”
“How old is he?” Eddie asked, his eyes still fixed to the screen.
“He’s seventeen. Just about to graduate high school, can you believe it?”
Eddie didn’t really pay attention when Bob talked about his family. He probably should have listened more, but the man was just so dorky.
“Okay,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t really want some kid in the shop snooping around, but it wasn’t really his decision.
“Okay, great,” Bob replied with a smile. When he didn’t leave the room, Eddie knew he had more to say. He shut his phone off and turned to face his boss. “You see, uh. Will’s been having some trouble lately. Bullies and all that. He just came out, you know? And he’s a great kid. He’s so great, and some people at school are just - well, they’re bullies.”
Eddie didn’t really know where Bob was going with this.
“That sucks,” Eddie acknowledged. “I remember when I came out, people said all kinds of shit - I mean, uh, stuff. Sorry.”
“That’s kinda why I’m telling you about it,” Bob said, shifting his weight on his feet nervously. “I think Will could really use someone on his side right now. Someone who really understands, you know?”
Ah. Eddie got it now.
“Someone who’s gay,” he deduced. Bob knew that Eddie was gay, and he never cared or said anything about it, which was great. While he didn’t really want to be some motivational story about overcoming adversity in a hetero-normative society, he knew that Bob didn’t ask for much, and talking to a struggling kid seemed easy enough. “Okay, yeah. I’ll talk to him, if you want.”
“Great,” Bob said, breaking out into a smile. “You’re gonna love him. He’s a huge fan of that Dungeons and Dragons game, just like you.”
“Shit, really?” Eddie replied. “I mean - shoot. Sorry.”
“I never told you to stop cursing in front of me, Eddie,” Bob chuckled. “I know I may seem naïve and innocent, but I got into all kinds of trouble in my youth. You’re free to be whoever you want to be here, as long as you’re nice.”
He was just so wholesome it hurt. Eddie imagined the trouble Bob was referring to being something along the lines of sneaking a beer into a movie theater. It would probably break his heart to know some of the things Eddie had gotten into before he’d started working at this place. Maybe Wayne already told him, and he had just never said anything. Eddie certainly wasn’t gonna bring it up.
“Hey Bob,” Eddie said. “Why did you start this job in the first place? Aren’t you this huge tech wizard?” Bob smiled warmly.
“Sure was. Bob the Brain, they used to call me. I still love a good puzzle, but life takes you to all kinds of places you don’t expect to go.”
“Yeah, but that seems like a pretty big career change,” Eddie continued.
“Well, did you know this building used to be a RadioShack?” Bob asked. Eddie shook his head. “It was, and I used to work there. After it closed down, some artists tried to make it a tattoo parlor, but had no idea where to start. I stepped in as manager and they did the tattooing. I rebranded it, changed the name, and have been running it ever since. The rest of the story you’ve been around for.”
Bob was a great guy and a wonderful manager. He motivated Eddie to get his life together, and things had really leveled out for him just by having a stable job he enjoyed.
After their conversation, Eddie’s break was over, so he went back to work. He continued a design for a client who’d come in wanting a quarter sleeve, and then at 4pm he was scheduled to tattoo a bird on a guy’s shoulder blade.
Overall, it was a normal day.
Robin knew every single plant and flower in the shop. She knew their names, their seasons, how to take care of them, and what they meant.
She just happened to be really bad at keeping track of watering schedules, and tended to kill anything she touched.
“Maybe I should work at a pet store,” Robin sighed, discouraged that the gardenias that had just come in had already wilted.
“What? Robin, why would you do that to the poor animals?” Steve replied, horrified.
“Shut up, Harrington,” she snapped back. “Animals can tell me when they’re hungry.”
She looked sad, and Steve hated when she looked sad.
“Aww, Robbie,” he said, jumping off the counter to put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I can help. If you tell me what to do, I can do it.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked.
“Nope,” he responded confidently. “But they’re already dying, so it’s worth a shot, right?”
Steve actually turned out to be a natural at taking care of plants. He tended to be very good at looking after people, so it shouldn’t have been that surprising, but what was most shocking was how much he enjoyed it. Robin caught him talking to the flowers quite a bit. It was adorable.
Ink About It was right across the street from Flowers for All. Steve and Robin stared at it every single shift through the front window. Neither of them remember who started the bit where they’d come up with weird matching tattoos they’d get with each other, but it became a staple every time they worked together.
“Salt and pepper,” Robin greeted him as he walked in one day.
“Obviously,” she responded with a smirk. They continued working, but it was a slow day. The ideas got progressively unhinged as the hours went by.
“What about…” Robin wondered, her chin resting on her hand as she sat at the register. “You get my face and I get yours.” Steve chuckled.
“Or we both get Harry Styles’ face.”
“Yes!” Robin’s face lit up as she laughed. “What about something flower themed?”
“Like what? A flower and a pot?” Steve proposed.
“Sure, you can be the pot,” she remarked.
“What? Why am I the pot?”
“Because you smoke pot and I don’t,” she explained. Steve shook his head and scoffed.
“Weak reason, Buckley, but fine. You’re the flower.” She smirked, pleased with herself, but then Steve added - “The flower is dead, though. For obvious reasons.”
“Steve!” She yelled, laughing. “Harsh, but fair.”
Their shift ended, but instead of going home, they went to the bar next door. They continued the bit until they were tipsy, and ended up arguing over who would be Bert and who would be Ernie. It got kind of heated.
“Whatever!” Robin huffed, throwing her arms up. “It doesn’t matter, because you know I hate puppets. We’re not getting Bert and Ernie tattoos.”
“You’re acting like we’re actually going to do this,” Steve said as he sipped his beer.
“I mean, if we find something we like, why not?”
“Why not?” Steve echoed. At first, he was going to give her all the reasons he could think of why they shouldn’t get tattoos together, but then he realized he didn’t have any reasons. “Uh, I guess you’re right. Okay, so no Bert and Ernie. What about Frog and Toad?”
“Are you just going through all the queer-coded best friends in children’s media, Steve?”
“Basically, yeah,” he replied, smirking. “Fuck, I’m Toad aren’t I?”
“I’m glad you said it and not me,” Robin replied. They sat in silence for a moment, coming to the same conclusion.
“Uhh, so maybe that’s - Like, maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” Steve said. “Am I just buzzed, or -”
“No, I’m right there with you,” Robin responded. Of course she was, she always was.
Before they knew it, they were stumbling towards Ink About It.
Eddie had just wrapped up his final appointment and was quietly working on other designs. Bob had left for the day, and sometimes Eddie stayed late just because it was a quiet place to be.
It became less of a quiet place to work when two tipsy idiots stumbled in.
“Hello!” The man greeted Eddie. “We would like tattoos, please!”
“Okay?” Eddie replied, confused.
“He wants Toad and I want Frog. You know, from Frog and Toad are Friends?” The woman said. “Can you do that?” Eddie eyed them both and did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes.
“I can do whatever, pretty much,” Eddie replied. “Except, uh - I mean, do either of you have tattoos?” The pair shook their heads. “Do you know where you want them?”
“We didn’t get that far,” the man responded, prompting both of them to giggle.
“Right, okay,” Eddie said. “So, since you’ve clearly been drinking and this is your first tattoo, I’m gonna say it’s a no-go. Think about it, and come back tomorrow if you’re still interested.”
This kind of thing happened every so often, so Eddie was used to it. People never came back. They always came to their senses once they sobered up, and Eddie would never see them again. He figured it would be the same for these two.
It wasn’t. They showed up again the next day.
“We’ve thought about it!” The woman said as she walked into the shop. She dug into her bag and pulled out a picture. “This is what we want. Inside of the ankle.”
“Wow,” Eddie said as he looked at what they’d chosen, impressed. “I really didn’t expect you’d wanna go through with this.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” the man argued. “It’s an amazing idea.”
“Yeah,” the woman agreed. “And work’s been slow, and we’re bored, and this is not even close to the wildest thing we’ve done together.”
Eddie didn’t find spontaneous tattoos to be that wild in the first place. He was covered in them, and most of them were on-the-fly. Once you have a few, it gets easier and easier to add more.
“Right,” Eddie said, wondering what the other wild things they’d done together were. He wondered if it was some sort of innuendo, like they were the kind of couple that secretly went to BDSM clubs or something like that. “Well, lucky for you, it's slow here today, too. Shall we?"
Eddie had them fill out paperwork while he got the stencil ready. He had adjusted their reference picture a little bit just to add his own flair, and after they approved it they were basically ready to go. It turned out their names were Steve and Robin.
Eddie thought that Steve was kind of a stupid name, and didn’t match the pretty boy associated with it whatsoever.
They didn’t even seem that nervous, which was baffling. Eddie figured there must be more to them than he had originally assumed. They were also a lot less annoying when they were sober.
“So, who’s first?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the chair.
“I’ll go,” Steve answered, raising his hand. Eddie put the stencil on his ankle and got final approval before they got started.
“You ready?” Eddie asked, holding the tattoo needle in his hand. He waited for Steve to back out, but he nodded instead. “Okay. It’s gonna sting a little.”
“I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” Steve replied. Eddie tried to hide the smirk on his face. He’d heard that line before, many times.
Eddie put the needle to the skin, and Steve didn’t so much as blink. Huh. Well, okay then.
Tattooing someone naturally involves a lack of personal space. It never bothered Eddie, because he tended to not think about personal space at any given moment, but some clients were a bit more hesitant than others. Ankle tats were thankfully not as intense as a rib or hip placements, but it did mean Eddie had to have a stranger’s foot close to his face, which wasn’t amazing.
He wasn’t a foot guy. The man attached to the foot, however…
Eddie couldn’t help it. Steve was gorgeous. He also was charismatic, which was a quality that Eddie always appreciated and was attracted to. Steve chatted with Eddie during the whole 45 minutes he was being tattooed, and even made Eddie laugh a couple times.
Robin started to show her anxiety the moment it was her turn.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Steve reminded her.
“Uh, of course I do!” she retorted. “This was my idea. You think I’m just going to let you have a loan toad on your ankle?” Steve and Eddie laughed.
“I don’t mind. It came out pretty badass, thanks to Eddie.” Eddie smirked at the compliment.
“If you can do it, I can do it. Come on, Eddie, let’s do this.”
She was shaking a little at first, so Steve pulled up a chair and held her hand. He asked her to start naming all the flowers they sold, and she did so rapidly. Eddie hadn’t heard of a lot of the plants she’d listed, and the list was unending. Ten minutes in, she eased into the process, and the rest went by without a hitch.
Steve and Robin were really cute together. Eddie wasn't sure how long they'd been dating, but he wished them the best.
Steve left a sizable tip - like, an absurdly high tip - and then they were off.
This time, Eddie was sure that would be the last he’d see of them.
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Hi! Can you do Shiv Roy x fem!reader angst? Leaving it up to you what about
“I always want you when I’m finally fine”
pairing: Shiv Roy x fem!reader
summary: After you confessed that you loved her, Shiv had all but told you not to call her…ever. So you’re thrown off guard when you get a phone call from her at 3 am.
warnings: 18+ sexual themes,angst, toxic relationships, strong language, alcohol use
word count: 5574
notes: obviously this fic is inspired by the song, listened to an entire mitski playlist as I wrote this so do with that info what you will haha.
You were always a worrier.
Constantly fearing and expecting the worst-case scenario, a request for a simple conversation suddenly had you feeling like you were about to get horrific news and a late-night phone call usually had you spiraling.
So that’s why you’re surprised at yourself when your phone starts ringing at God knows what time, and you immediately stretch your arm out with a groan to quickly press decline. Despite not knowing whom the call was coming from, you roll over onto your side with a silent promise to chase it up in the morning.
You’d been practicing doing that recently: ‘protecting your peace’, is what the overly chipper, new-age psychologist whom you’d recently started paying thousands to “fix” you called it.
Then the vibrating starts up again…you’re not happy.
Muttering expletives under your breath you snatch the phone from your bed stand before raising it up to your ear.
You’d been tossing and turning all night and had just managed to fall asleep but of course, someone had to wake you the moment you had dozed off. You say a silent prayer at the fact that you had tomorrow off from work or else you’d be downing cups of coffee all day to have some kind of semblance to a functioning person.
"Uh-huh?" You hum, eyes half-lidded as you already start to nod off again.
"...hey, uh...I'm outside, can let me into your building?"
The voice is slurred and rambling, but you recognise it all the same, suddenly wide awake as you scramble to your feet, phone pulled away from your ear in disbelief to squint at the name on the display:
"What? Siobhan...It’s 3am"
Not to mention you didn't want to see her.
…You shouldn’t want to see her was probably closer to describing it.
You peer down from one of your windows and sure enough, she is standing there, arms folded across her chest and that bored look on her face, breath catching in your throat at the mere sight of her. You look for any sign of another party near her, eyebrows furrowing at the fact there is no car black car parked outside one of the neighbouring houses.
Where was the car that had dropped her off?
This was anything but the first time you'd been summoned for a classic Shiv Roy booty call. But usually, it came in the form of a "come over?” or an “I miss you” text when you think she was feeling extra mean. You'd drop everything like the pathetically devoted follower you were, opting instead to spend the rest of the night swallowing the feeling of self-loathing as the two of you would fuck each other into oblivion.
You knew the rules: It was always at some 5-star hotel; never at yours or any of her many homes- that was too personal. You were never supposed to linger after. Shiv Roy was straight to the point, and concise, she didn't do pillow talk.
One time she’d seemed particularly stressed out and you'd tried to ask her if she was okay and in turn, were promptly put in your place and shown the door. You didn’t have access to or get to see that part of Shiv (if she even still existed) anymore.
Safe to say you didn’t bother trying to fill the cold, endless silence after that.
To her credit, she would always call you a taxi, or get one of her drivers to drop you off the moment you were done, and you'd sit silently crying in the car on the way home, clasping the broken pieces of your heart in your hands, trying to hold yourself together until Shiv decided she needed you again.
Waiting for her to call, to touch you and make you whole. To make you mean something.
So naturally, of course, you were shocked to see her outside of where you lived again.
You think back to the only other occasion she’d been at your apartment, your birthday a year ago. She’d come to collect you for one of your “meetings” and had surprised you by coming equipped with your favourite vanilla bean cake from Magnolia Bakery. She seemed unusually light…happy (and definitely a little bit drunk) and even sang you an out-of-tune rendition of happy birthday that made your cheeks hurt from smiling. You’d put your favourite record on and asked her to dance with you in your kitchen and she’d rolled her eyes claiming she didn’t listen to music, you’d laughed at how ridiculous that sounded (she was always such a fucking cliché), but she’d danced with you anyway.
She’d touched you and had seen you, really seen you…but the moment was fleeting, the same cold no nonsense Shiv the moment you left for the hotel. Sometimes you think you’d imagined that day.
You’re surprised she even still remembers your address now.
“Please?” she sighs out softly
You could never say no to her.
Well-trained, you obey, buzzing her in with a sigh of resignation. What were you doing?
Moments later, Shiv twirls out of your lift into your condo with a giggle and you realised dreadingly that she's wasted. Not even the standard Shiv level of buzzed that you’d seen her at.
She looked frazzled and her hair was slightly askew, and she had one of those almost fake-looking wide smiles on her face.
Were you having a fever dream? Maybe you’d lost it.
"These are killing me!” She groans taking off her heels and tossing them onto the floor of your foyer behind her-making herself right at home besides the fact this was her second time even being in your loft.
Actually Maybe she’d lost it.
You keep your mouth closed, not quite of what to say.
"I was at Ken’s birthday...and it was...a shit show." She explains stumbling into your apartment.
"But, I was dancing you know..." she uncharacteristically giggles, leaning in to whisper to you conspiratorially, despite there only being two of you in the entire loft.
You could smell the tequila on her breath.
You ignore her but she doesn’t seems to notice,
"In the middle of the dancefloor too”.
Shiv ,unprompted, then proceeds to give you a demonstration, not receptive to the fact that there was no music playing. You have to turn away, unable to stop yourself from cracking a small chuckle at her performance. Drunk or not, you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.
"See? Just like how we used to back in our London days...Do you remember the raves and house parties we used to go to?” she exclaims unusually animated. You weren’t us yes to hearing her speak without that usual apathetic Shiv drawl.
You turn to pour yourself a glass of water, anything to keep your hands busy, not even attempting to pick up the bone she just so eagerly threw your way.
Making a forbidden reference to your past and she actually seemed to look back on it fondly? A couple of months ago, before that night, you probably would’ve chased after said bone that’s been thrown your way, practically fawning at her feet.
Was this a trap?
This inkling doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering in your chest though.
"Why are you here Shiv?" You question after a while, eyes narrowing, already knowing you were wasting your time trying to have an effective conversation with someone this drunk.
The heiress smiles sadly before throwing her hands in the air blasély,
"You called me a vampire...they can't be out in the day...can they?"
You try your best not to wince at her words and immediately fail.
"...I went to Kenfest…and not that I was looking or anything, there were so many people…but I noticed you weren't there…”
Sure, you’d received an invite to Kendall’s birthday party. But that wasn’t really your scene anymore.
"I know you Naomi are friends...I thought you’d be there but…but you didn’t go. Why not?” she rambles manically,
“I don’t care or anything, but… Kendall put you on the list s-”
"Is that why you came here at 3am? To lecture me for skipping out on "Kenapalooza?" you interrupt massaging your temples,
She at least has the decency to pretend to look embarrassed.
"I just…I miss you" she stutters, nonchalant as though this was just a standard afternoon, and you were two busy friends who’d just happened to bump into each other.
That dreaded feeling of realisation slowly creeps through your body.
So that’s why she was here.
What this was really about.
Everything was always about fucking with Shiv. Getting fucked over by her family or some other corporate big wig. Fucking you both physically or metaphorically. Fucking with you.
You feel yourself starting to get angry.
“Yeah? I’m not in the mood to be in the same room as you, let alone a quickie so your luck’s all out.”
Shiv balks at the accusation, “What? Fuck you Y/n, I’m being serious…I mean it.”
You let a laugh in disbelief,
“Oh, you mean it do you Shiv? Fuck me? Fuck you.”
"We don't have that or any kind of relationship with each other anymore...you made that very clear... "
Her jaw sets and she looks away from you, fiery stare instead directed at the pillar in the middle of your living room. You think it had the potential to snap it in half
"Oh, get off your moral high horse-you gave just as good as you got that night... " she laughs, tilting her head to the side even though none of this was really that funny.
Your blood runs cold.
You'd bared your soul to her that night. You told her you loved her, and she’d gotten angry at your confession and had shot down you in classic Roy fashion. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t have time for this. The two of you already had a good thing going but you were weak and now you had ruined it.
She was vicious.
You just weren't good enough. You never would be.
A rat backed into a corner, you’d lashed out at her, desperately hurling insults, and a couple of cruel truths at her to see what stuck. Anything to try and hurt her the way she'd hurt you.
You’d called her a megalomaniac, an emotionally repressed vampire.
"Do you remember? I know I do."
Shiv smiles a twisted grin at the haunted look in your eyes, a deer in the headlights, and smelling blood she zeroes in on your exposed weakness. Anything to get a show of emotion from you.
Sure, Shiv lived up to her name, tongue as sharp as her namesake. But she was a mean drunk and could quickly turn downright fucking cruel after a couple of shots, you knew and had seen that first hand, the fact that she'd been dancing and singing in your kitchen moments ago didn't save you from that.
She licks her lips, a predator ready to sink its teeth into her prey,
"You begged on your knees for me to change my min-"
"Just stop, Shiv. Fuck!" You yell, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and the both of you jump, the latter looking taken aback.
You never yelled. Never.
For just a second there, she looks like the scared, sad little rich girl you’d first befriended at high school and your heart sinks.
Was it worth it?
“I’m sorry.” You murmur placing your head in your hands,
Only 10 minutes into conversation, and you were already cracking under the weight of her words. You really were weak y/n.
You'd known Shiv for years now and were more than familiar with her acerbic tongue but regardless she always knew the right thing to say to push your buttons, even after all this time,
"I don't want to rehash this with you...so just go and be with your fucking husband whom you love so much Siobhan," you mumble, unable to look at her.
This time it’s her turn to wince.
"Fine." Shiv stumbles to her feet again taking an unsteady step towards your door,
“Are you not gonna call your driver to pick you up?” you ask chewing on your bottom lip,
“Why, do you give a fuck now?” she pouts mockingly,
“No, I sent him home for the night…I’m walking…just like I did to get here” Shiv hums matter-of-factly as she attempts to put her shoes back on, failing spectacularly.
She could not be serious.
Your loft was in TRIBECA... Shiv lived on the other side of Manhattan.
You think back to looking for a car that wasn’t there when she’d first arrived at your place.
Okay, so maybe she hadn't taken a car…you knew she wouldn't be caught dead riding the subway...which meant she had in fact walked.
How had she not gotten mugged?
Daughter of one of the richest men in the world roaming alone in New York?
You couldn’t let her go back out there.
You look over at the redhead and she’s still struggling to do the buckle of her shoes.
It was getting painful to watch.
“Sit down” you sigh, and she shoots you a look,
“No…you don’t want me here.” She replies tersely,
“Just… fucking sit-down Siobhan...please" you sigh, turning around to place a slice of sourdough bread into your sandwich press when she obliges, clumsily sitting herself down at your kitchen island.
If she was going to stick around, you needed her to be soberer than this.
She drums her fingers on the countertop, those beautiful blue eyes dancing around the room before she begins to spin herself around on the stool she’s sat on, a shit-eating grin spread across her face, your previous exchange of words clearly already forgotten.
She had to be,at the very least a solid 5 cosmos in.
The sight is jarring in comparison to the full corporate dinner get-up she has on, but you also can’t help but acknowledge it’s the most carefree you’ve seen her look in a while. The redhead usually had that faraway look in her eyes, like she was thinking about 20 different things at once.
She watches you cut her toastie up into squares in silence, and you reach across the table to place the it in front of her.
She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you.
"Eat up." You state simply sliding the plate closer to her,
Shiv peers at the plate in horror, and anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you'd tried to serve her a turd on her plate, before she pushes it away from her like a petulant child, those piercing blue eyes giving you a look that could kill.
She used to love your classic grilled cheeses.
"It's not caviar or a prime cut of wagyu from Le Bernardin but I promise it's not going to kill you." You nudge teasingly, your attempts at negotiation falling on deaf ears as you’re rewarded with a scoff.
You press your lips in a straight line leaning down to be eye level with her, attempting to give her your own take on the classic Shiv Roy death glare.
"I’ll make you something else If you want but if you don’t eat at least something I’m going to kick you out of my apartment and onto your ass Siobhan.”
The heiress blinks a couple of times, nonplussed at being told by you of all people what to do and begrudgingly she eats up, the alcohol clearly making her more compliant than usual.
You let out a discreet breath, glad she didn't call your bluff.
The truth was that you loved Shiv so ardently that even if the circumstances were different, you wouldn’t even dream of doing that.
The last time you'd spoken she'd pretty much gutted you like a fish, letting her in your apartment was literally going against everything your brain and your therapy sessions told you to do, yet here she was.
You’d do anything for her and that was scary.
There was never any logic, or acknowledgment of your boundaries and wants when Shiv was around. That was you; Y/N the people pleaser.
But how could you help it?
Your love for her was so heavy you could feel its weight on your shoulders as you walked, it sat in the back of your mind like a stone, it clouded your lungs as you breathed...and you eventually couldn't take it anymore. You were choking on it.
You'd coughed it all up and Shiv took one look at you, at all that love, and she’d turned her nose up in disgust. It came down to it and she didn't choose you. You just weren't enough. You never would be.
You used to think about what it would be like to have her here all the time; Shiv in one of your old T-shirts, perched on the countertop cracking one of her sardonic one-liners as you cooked but you scold yourself immediately, waving the thought away with a wave of your hand.
You watch her in silence as she slowly eats, satisfied as you notice her eyes were less bleary, and she was slightly more subdued, her chaotic and abrasive drunkenness seeming to have mellowed out to her just being slightly tipsy. You could relax in the fact that you likely wouldn’t be cleaning her vomit off of your mahogany floors tomorrow morning at the very least.
You rise to your feet, wordlessly turning to head to your room, and she takes the hint and follows you.
It wasn’t like your place had a guest room anyway.
You watch her in silence as she wipes off her makeup then slowly begins to take off her bracelets…then earrings and necklace, pausing when she gets to her watch.
"…It’s been 5 months y/n…were you just...never going to call me again?" She eventually asks hesitantly, voice small.
She didn't exactly make it seem like she wanted to hear from you.
What did you say to that?
How were you supposed to lay out a decade and a half of hurt in one sentence?
You shrug, unknowing of the answer yourself.
"We already did it enough as teens and in our 20s, so I just…I didn't feel up to playing 'friends' again with Mrs Roy-Wambsgans..." you stare at your hands so that you don’t have to look at her,
You hear her take in a shuddering breath.
"I'm not trying to be a cunt...but that's the reason why I didn’t. And our last conversation really did a number on me...after we spoke I was just so...."
Shiv nods, swallowing deeply, before turning her back to you, moving her hair to the side.
You take the hint and help her unzip her dress.
"I'm sorry..." she murmurs tears welling in her eyes as she climbs out of it, the soft green fabric falling to the floor, leaving her in her underwear.
"I know..." you breath out in exhaustion, handing her a pair of your satin pajamas.
You were so tired. Tired of hearing sorry. Tired of feeling sorry. Tired of being in love with a woman who didn't want to give you the time of day unless you had something she needed. You were tired of giving. You had nothing more to give.
"Do you remember, the night before my wedding?"
"Please don't do this to me again, Shiv." You beg in anguish,
"What you said..."
"I just said don't."
She opens her mouth again, eyes glistening,
"I begged you not to marry Tom..." you interrupt, hoping hearing the story from your own lips would make it hurt less,
"You said that I could do so much better than him...that he didn't love me as much as you did" continues Shiv
"And maybe that is true... maybe I can do better...maybe he can do better."
Shiv's chest shudders and she presses her eyes tightly shut,
"But...most of all you can do better than me."
"you're selfless and compassionate...and I don't know if I can love you in the way that you want the way that you say you lov"-
"But do you?"
You croak out, voice breaking,
"Love me, I mean"
"Well…what difference does it make..." she sighs dejectedly.
You slowly walk toward her, hand slightly raised like you were approaching a dangerous animal as you look into the shorter woman's eyes.
"Shiv…do you love me?" You whisper again voice catching after each word.
Shiv opens and closes her mouth repeatedly, and you wait for her to say something as she searches for the right words.
…they never come.
She looks at you, that same vague look in her eyes, lifting her hand as though reaching out to touch you but she pauses halfway, opting to put her thumb in between her teeth, biting as though physically retraining herself.
You didn’t really know her anymore, but you still recognised her tells, the puckering of her lips when she was trying to stop herself from saying something, the biting of the tip of her thumb when she was anxious.
You watch taken aback, as her face starts to twist with emotion.
You'd never seen Shiv truly lost for words like that.
She rakes a hand through her hair in exasperation.
"I...fuck" she grunts, retreating from you, as she turns to angrily wipe away a stray tear with the back of her right hand,
"You're good...too good." She sniffs eyes red rimmed,
"I'm....not a good person y/n, I don't want to tarnish you with my...me."
You look at her with a sigh before letting out an empty chuckle, looking upwards as you feel the tears, you'd been holding in start to stream down your cheeks,
Maybe it was too late for that.
The damage had already been done.
Shiv suddenly turns around to look at you, eyes hardened with resolve as she quickly stalks across the room, before she straddles your lap, pressing her forehead against yours.
She leans forward, gently leaning in to kiss your tears away in a silent apology and your eyes flutter closed at the sensation, trying to burn the feeling of her touch into your memory.
She places a feverish kiss against your cheek. Then your wrist.
Then another wet kiss against that soft spot below your jaw that she knows drives you crazy and you melt into her as you reward her with a needy moan, goading her on, once again.
You just couldn't help yourself.
"Fuck...Shiv..." you mewl, arms draped around her neck,
"You like that...right?" She whispers, her tone sultry and slow but, but her movements contrastingly hurried.
Why did this feel like a test.
She knew you did.
"only thing sweeter than the sound of those moans you make is how you taste..." she husks,
No matter how much you really wanted to.
"Please" she gasps in between trailing kisses down your neck,
"I want to give you everything you deserve...”
“…so much...I really want to try but don't know how."
"You were right about what you said...last time...All I do is take and take and take but it's because I don't know how to give." continues the heiress, voice wobbling.
She was crying.
"Just let me give you this..." she continues in a ragged breath, hand reaching under your top to palm one of your breasts, gently pinching your nipples and you squeeze your tear-filled eyes shut as you can’t help but find yourself arching into her touch.
"Just tell me what you want me to do to you...I just...want to make you feel good" she rasps but it’s off, her voice sounds shaky...desperate,
“This is the only way I know how”.
Sex with Shiv always was always so good, but you always found yourself feeling worse off after. You were greedy. You wanted more. More of Shiv. You wanted all of her-but you'd settle for this, doing anything to have her close.
But the want was eating away at you.
Chipping at you bit by bit until there was nothing.
Sometimes you felt like that'd already happened. Like there was nothing left to you anymore, you were just a black hole and you and your thoughts were just all Shiv.
This was a bad idea.
“I don’t know Shiv…” you sigh suddenly, begrudging pushing her hands away from you, despite the fact that they felt oh-so good on your body.
Shiv pauses, tear stained face frowning at you in confusion, as she tries to figure you out
“O-Okay well…how about…you can just do whatever you want to me?” she suggests frantically, guiding your hands under her shirt, you can feel her trembling slightly beneath your skin,
"Let just leave it.” You sniff,
She jumps out of your lap as though burned.
Sometimes your relationship with Shiv felt like a wound, and she was a vampire; that maybe she couldn’t help it, but the moment she smelt blood she'd feast on you, your affection, your infatuation. She’d always be gone the moment there was nothing more of you to devour. Each time you were left behind, desperately still clinging onto the bloody remains of the love you still had for her despite her shredding them between her teeth.
You'd been periodically drifting in and out of each other’s lives this way for the past 17 years.
First, you were 15, the quiet new girl at Sacred Hearts who'd been plucked out of obscurity to be best friends with Shiv 'the queen' Roy. You remember ducking under the bedsheets at a sleepover with her exchanging kisses and giggling, a private and exciting secret between the two of you…you were her dirty secret, even now it felt like you always would be. Then you were the 20-something London party girls who were joint at the hip: appearing oddly close to others but nothing more than friends who just happened to secretly sleep with each other sometimes.
Then there was whatever this was.
This Shiv wasn’t really your friend, or even your “lover” anymore, sometimes the term felt too warm to describe what you were doing together. This Shiv was worlds away from the one you once knew; she wore turtlenecks and silk blouses and had a sharp blunt cut bob and the insults to match.
What had happened in the years you’d been away from each other?
Who’d made her this way?
You wanted to hug her. To hold her close to you and huddle under a blanket like you had as kids for as long as she’d let you. You wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to put on the armour anymore, that you were safe, and that she could be vulnerable with you without any ulterior motives.
But now you were asking yourself whether there even was any armour to take off anymore. maybe this was just Shiv now. But then on the occasion there were those odd moments, those slithers of light, where you saw glimpses of the Shiv you once knew again; how she’d often make teasing jokes with that old sparkle in her eyes, the way she giggles, ticklish when your fingers ghost past her waist in bed, the way she’d kiss you sweetly in the moments after…how she looked at you in adoration when you came undone.
You’d realised after that that you loved her anyway. Shiv Roy: jaded rich private school girl, party girl socialite, ruthless Waystar-Royco successor…you loved them all.
But the thing was didn't know if you had it in you to keep on doing this. If your heart could take any more of this.
"So…what, are things just never going to go back to the way they were before then?" Shiv asks evenly, the youngest Roy hunching over herself as she cradles her elbows close to her sides, looking off into the distance-unable to meet your eyes.
Before she broke your heart?
Before you'd kissed for the very first time?
Or before you told her you loved her?
You close your eyes a sob wracking through your body, before you shake your head,
"Maybe... we need to cut our losses here...maybe this is wasting our time, and this isn't what either of us needs."
Maybe the problem wasn't other people...but just you and Shiv. The two of you weren't meant to be in each other's lives. No matter how much you loved her it wouldn't be enough.
Shiv was assured, practical, cautious and calculated: almost everything she said and did had a motive or thought behind it, even her marriage had logic and purpose and some kind of benefit driving it alongside the fact she loved him.
Shiv worked and strove toward power.
You on the other hand wore your heart on your sleeve when you were upset or emotional you cried openly and unabashedly. You drifted through life trying to find an identity for yourself outside of your rich family…you were always trying to fix things and people that couldn’t or didn’t want to be fixed, trying to worm your way into Shiv’s heart when she didn’t want you to.
You were a liability.
It was never going to work. She was never going to pick someone like you.
"Okay well...I need you." She grits out tensely, fists tightly balled by her sides. You could see her eyes were watering again.,
She needed you.
But maybe it wasn’t in the same way you needed her. You wanted her. You wanted her with every fibre of your being.
"I need you." sniffs Shiv, so quiet and wavering you have to strain to hear her, grabbing onto you as though you might disappear,
"But you don't love me" you weep, crumbling at the realisation that she was never going to see you the way you saw her.
Shiv doesn't say anything, but you think that's all you need to hear.
She crawls into your bed, maintaining her silence as she lifts the blanket for you to climb in after her. You slide in beside her, at first back first pressed against hers, but eventually mentally talking yourself into turning to face her.
You inch forward until your noses are touching staring into those expressive steely blue eyes; cold at first glance but always swirling with emotion beneath the surface...she'd become an expert at making sure you could never tell which ones.
You think you’d memorised every inch of her face by now high apple cheeks,those long translucent eyelashes,and the freckles beneath the usual layer of makeup that you never got to see.
She was beautiful and she knew it.
Once when you were kids, you'd stared at her during the entirety of a study group, counting all of the freckles dusted on her face, and when you'd told her afterwards what you were doing she'd rolled her eyes and kissed the thought away from your mind.
You'd do anything to get inside of her mind. To know what she was thinking. Whether you truly ever meant something to her.
"My sweet, Sweet y/n." She whispers, but it a voice in the back of your head tells you it feels mocking, then suddenly you're unable to tell if her voice was dripping with sweetness or condescension.
Sweet, Sweet, stupid Y/N. Willing to risk it all for someone who would never love you back.
She was right in saying you were hers.
Your heart did belong to Shiv.
But Shiv wasn't yours.
She never was, and she never would be.
She cups your face in her hands, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks before she pulls you into a sweet kiss that seems to go on forever and you revel in the feeling of her lips on yours, grasping onto her as though she might disappear until the kiss tastes salty from both of your tears.
It felt like a farewell.
You don't let go of her, wanting to keep the feeling of the soft warmth of her skin against yours, fingertips slowly raking down her arms, starting from her shoulders, taking time to map out each and every beautiful blemish on her skin on the way down. It reminded you that Shiv was in fact still human.
You nick your finger on something sharp and quickly retract your hand hissing as you look down to see the glimmering emerald of a ring sitting on her finger; a reminder of who you really were to Shiv: someone to pass the time with when her husband the man she chose over you, was gone.
She moves her hands out of your reach.
"You just...keep on hurting me" you whisper out dejectedly through your tears.
You felt like you'd never forgive her for coming here and making you experience this all over again. You’d never forgive yourself.
Sure, Shiv was laying in your bed...in your arms but nothing had changed.
She presses her forehead against yours, and you reach a hand up to touch her cheek, to check if she was still there physically, despite the cavern of circumstances separating you from each other, despite the emotional gap she’d intentionally forged between the two of you.
You let out a shaky sigh “I…I don’t know if it’s doing either of us any good to keep seeing each other.”
"I know..." Shiv wobbles out, finally allowing herself to cry freely,
You hated her.
You loved her.
You wished you'd never met her. You didn't quite know how to live your life without her looming presence in it.
With a chaste kiss against your collarbone, she presses her face into the gentle curve of your neck, and you wrap your arms around her to pull her against your chest.
You exhale shudderingly and press your lips to the top of her head, taking a deep breath to inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo one the last time. Eyes snapping closed you mumble a silent mantra into silky strawberry-blonde locks:
Maybe in another life.
You don’t allow yourself to feel surprised as you wake up the next day and Shiv is gone.
This is one occurrence of many that you have been left reeling by the hurricane that was Shiv Roy, but it still hurts just as much as it did the first time as you feel your heart cracking.
💢 Rage and Regret | Yuu
>> requested: no
>> a/n: teehee love you tulip; also i kinda gave up towards the end hope you don't mind
>> masterlist: Ramshackle Masterlist
>> synopsis: Yuu gets fed up with the inattention to their mental health and the lack of responsibility from Crowley.
>> reader pronouns: They/Them
>> warning(s): yelling; blood; broken nose; burn mentions; isolation;
Yuu was fuming. They had defeated yet another overblot, and no one was near them to even ask if they were okay. As they pushed themselves off of the ground, Yuu's right leg gave out from under them. They toppled over, both of their elbows almost giving out as well. Getting up off of the debris again, Yuu shakily stood amidst the people.
Grim was near Ace, who was helping Deuce up off the ground. None of them seemed to be so much as sparing a glance at Yuu to make sure they were alright.
Clenching their fist, Yuu started to stagger away from the overblot scene.
"Yuu!" Deuce finally called out, his voice raspy from yelling spell name after spell name.
When Yuu spun around, they would have seen the torn clothes in both of the freshmen. They would have seen the crease in Ace's eyebrows of concern, and the worry in Deuce's eyes. They would have seen it if it wasn't for the rage.
"Oh shut up, Deuce!" They yelled back. "I don't care what you have to say. You and your stupid cauldron, Ace and his fucking overconfident attitude, Grim and his obsession with tuna cans! I hate it!
"I hate not being cared about! You guys don't care. You're all fucking morons. Gods, I can't believe I'm friends with you! It's like you're trying to isolate me." tears started to come to Yuu's eyes, but they kept going. "And even if Grim lives with me, I bet he would leave in a heartbeat for two cans of tuna. I don't even mean more than two fucking cans of tuna!"
"Yuu..." Deuce's voice came out mumbled.
"I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU, I HATE RAMSHACKLE, I HATE NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE, I HATE TWISTED WONDERLAND." Yuu yelled even louder, trying to stay away from their emotions. "LEAVE ME ALONE."
The Ramshackle prefect turned around harshly and started to hobble back to their dorm.
"Yuu—" Deuce's voice got cut off by Ace.
"Yeah, that's right! WALK AWAY. FUCKING COWARD." the redhead yelled back. But Yuu's head was buzzing too much for them to care.
Crowley was waiting at the door of Ramshackle for Yuu.
"My, if it isn't the Prefect of Ramshackle. And where is—"
"Shut up," Yuu cut him off as they opened the door. "Don't fucking talk to me unless you found a way for me to go home."
Slamming the door shut, Yuu slinked down to the floor. They lost a shit-ton of blood, walking all the way back to the building. Their mind was hazy as they tried to get to the bandages, before promptly blacking out as they reached the tile.
When Yuu woke up, they were laying on the floor of the dorm, but there were bandages on them and a pillow under their head. They noticed that Grim wasn't curled up next to them as he usually was the last times they were severely hurt. Holding onto the wall for support, Yuu teetered for a moment before thumping through the halls.
The gray cat was nowhere to be found.
Maybe he just... maybe he's just talking to Ace and Deuce. Yuu told themselves, trying to believe it.
Yuu went back into school a week later. Bandages still covered parts of their skin from head to toe, covering both cuts and burn wounds. Walking into class, the student body suddenly got silent. Yuu thought that was weird.
Spotting Ace, Deuce, and Grim, Yuu tentatively walked over. The silence felt even heavier.
"What do you want?" Ace spat out.
Yuu was surprised by the harshness. "..What?"
"What do you mean, what? You're just gonna insult me, insult us, and think that you can just waltz into class a week later like everything's fine? Huh?"
"In..sult you?" Yuu tried to remember when they insulted him, only for their head to hurt and memory to get hazy.
Ace's chair scraped across the floor as he stood, gripping onto Yuu's collar. "Don't play fucking clueless with me, asshole."
The confused look on Yuu's face infuriated Ace even more. So much so that a punch was thrown.
The sound of a broken nose.
"Ah!" Yuu's voice was nasally, they staggered backwards and their hands came up to their nose. They could taste the blood that trailed down the bottom half of their face and dripped onto the floor.
"Get the hell away from me," Ace seethed, and both Deuce and Grim nodded along with him. "Stay the fuck away from us."
Yuu's departure from Twisted Wonderland was a lonely one.
Their ceremonial robes were tucked under their arm, no one came to send them off.
No good luck, goodbye, or even a simple nod.
Just them alone with a rippling mirror.
Yuu always felt separated from the people in Twisted Wonderland. But never more than now.
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Hey can I get a request where reader and rooster are in a relationship and some guy assaulted her and rooster gets in a fight with him🥰
So I may or may not have gone a little bit overboard with this one, but I think you'll enjoy. It's set after the events of Top Gun Maverick. Enjoy! <3
I Will Always Protect You
Working at the hard deck came with its perks. Penny giving me free beer, seeing my fiancé and his friends, and the beach side. Unfortunately the downsides of working at the hard deck would be the occasional hot shot Top Gun cadets when they first come to town. The males all thought that they could disrespect women, either by hitting on them or just straight being assholes. Luckily most moved on from this phase, after buying a few hundreds worth of beer from a bell ring, but not all.
Unfortunately, today was one of those days. "C'mon sweetheart, don't be that way. I'm sure you'd love me even more out of this uniform." The hot shot lieutenant spoke before me. I tensed, closing my eyes and taking a breath as I could hear Penny behind me moving about the bar. I slammed the beer glass in my hand down before the cocky male.
I stared the man-child straight in the eyes, placing my arms on the bar to steady myself for support. "Look, Lieutenant. I'm going to be perfectly clear here. You have two options, you can either close out your tab and promptly leave, or you can give me your card and I can go ring that bell and you buy everyone here a drink to make up for your shitty attitude." I spoke, not breaking eye contact.
A small flash of blond and green flickered out of the corner of my eyes as I noticed none other than Captain Jake Seresin slide onto the barstool next to him, facing the lieutenant with a grin on his face. "Lieutenant Morwood." He greeted, a cocky but warning smile on his face as he glanced at me, meeting my eyes and giving a curt nod before turning his eyes back to hot shot before him. "Don't tell me you're giving lovely Y/N here a hard time." He mused, eyebrows raised as he turned to look at me.
I smiled at Hangman, as my old friend gave me a wink in return. I had known Jake since he and Bradley had their first Top Gun class. The two were now the newest instructors at Top Gun after completing their practical death mission, nearly giving me a heart attack. But that was months ago. "Captain Bradshaw!" Jake called out, before the newest Lieutenant had the chance to respond.
Rooster had just walked into the bar, before smiling and waving at Hangman. His aviators still on his face, his dorky Hawaiian button up laying nicely upon the white shirt that perfectly complemented his tan skin. "Captain Seresin." He nodded towards the blond, before taking in the situation before him.
The brunet had quickly rounded the bar, crossing his arms as he stood on the opposite side of the poor lieutenant. I would have felt bad for the kid, but given his relentless actions despite being told a very positive 'no.' multiple times- I don't. I moved my eyes from the aforementioned 'hot-shot', who could only stare at the floor. Offering a soft smile to my future husband, who couldn't help but smile back warmly before returning to his student, who hadn't noticed the interaction. "Is there a problem here, Morwood?" he spoke, his voice a tone of seriousness, as if warning the cadet to not overstep.
"No. Sir." He spoke, eyes still facing the ground as he pulled his credit card out of his wallet.
"Good." Hangman rang out, his smile remaining strong as he offered me a firm nod before patting the lieutenant on the back before walking away. Bradley hesitated, his angry gaze lingering on the back of the young lieutenant's head. It was at this time that I took to grab an all too familiar beer bottle and hand it to Bradley.
He had at least two packs of these at home, yet somehow always ordered it whenever he graced the Hard Deck. "Thank you, Y/N." He smiled at me, his harsh attitude from seconds before forgotten, as he took the cold beer from my hands. I could only wink at him, staring at the man lovingly as he walked to where Hangman resided near the darts.
I moved my barkeep's towel from my hand, slinging it over my shoulder as I slid Lieutenant Morwood's credit card back towards him. He looked up at me, confused. "It's your first offense kid. I'll show your bank account mercy. But don't let me catch you talking to any women including myself that way, ever again. Got it?" I spoke as the boy could only nod, before making his way out of the bar.
"God the nerve of that kid." I gasped to Penny, as she could only offer a smirk at me.
"In my opinion you went a little too nice on him." She mused, watching as the bar's doors closed behind him.
I smiled at the older bartender before responding, "You just say that because his entire bank account would most likely pour into the cash register." I teased, as I placed another round of beers before an older gentleman.
"Hey!" She scolded lightly, hitting me with her own bar towel as I laughed and jumped away from her before going to make a rum and coke. "Would you mind closing tonight?" She asked, casually although I could tell she was practically begging me.
"Why, so you and Maverick can go sailing?" I asked, winking at the bartender before turning back to pour rum into the glass before me. "Yes, Pen. I'll close up the bar. You mind if Rooster stays with me? Don't wanna kick out the drunks alone." I suggested, before finishing the drink and handing it to another Top Gun cadet, who nodded his thanks as I turned back to Penny.
"Yeah. Of course. I'm probably gonna head out in ten, hell Rooster can even bartend with you if you get too busy." She spoke, looking at her watch. I smiled at the woman before me. I was happy that her and Maverick were able to rekindle.
"You can go now if you want. The crowds not too bad. I'll be alright." I suggested, as I rang out a tab. Smiling as I put the piece of paper and pen, alongside their credit card, before them. I then turned back to find Penny rushing out of the door. I laughed to myself as I wiped my hands on my jeans, wiping any beer or condensation that was left on my hands.
After a few hours I sighed, taking a moment as I leaned myself over the bar. The night was slowing down, and I was thankful for the ease with it. The bar had about an hour before close, with only a handful or two of Top Gun Cadets, the occasional older regulars and a few younger couples having fun. I smiled as I scanned the crowd, noticing that Jake had gone home.
My eyes flickered around the bar, only to find my fiancé attempting to one up his students in a game of pool. Unfortunately, however, the man was an absolute menace at pool. He was terrible. I observed as the man picked up the cue stick, and one of his female students approached him. I raised a brow, watching the scene before me, as the woman placed her hand on Bradley's arm, batting her eyelashes up at him.
"Uh- miss?" I heard another pilot ask, as I snapped out of it when I felt cold beer pour over the glass, soaking my hand. I was jolted back to reality, cutting the tap off before smiling at the pilot before me.
"Sorry about that!" I apologized, smiling as I handed him his beer. He thanked me, no doubt happy for the very full beer glass I handed him.
I glanced back over to Bradley, finding him distancing himself from the female pilot, flashing his hand on which a simple silver band was placed. He proposed to me, sure but I wasn't going to be the only one wearing an engagement ring. I smiled to myself, before hearing my watch alarm go off.
Wasting no time, I grabbed the microphone that was hooked up to our speaker system. I tapped the mic once and twice after turning it on, gaining the attention of our patrons. A few looked over at me, but all took notice of the music being interrupted. "Ladies and Gentleman, the Hard Deck closes in fifteen minutes. Please let this be a peaceful closing and get ready to head home. The bar will close in five minutes, so any last drinks- come get 'em." I smiled, as a few people groaned and others gave a semi-drunk 'wooh!'.
I leaned against the polished wooden bartop as I cleaned out a glass. "I'll take another beer." A familiar voice rang out, a smile easily growing on my face as I looked up from the glass I was cleaning.
I noticed the few students that were near him, they watched me intently, as if hiding behind him. I furrowed me brows, as I looked at the man in the hawaiian shirt. I walked the short distance to the opposite side of the bar, noticing that his shadows had moved to the side to view our conversation. I folded my arms on the bartop, leaning forward as I looked at him. "Is that so, Captain Bradshaw?" I purred, a smirk growing on my face as I noticed Bradley's face grow a slight pinkish shade.
His smirk remained evident, as my own grin could only grow more. "Then what can I get for you?" I mused, glancing down at his lips before up at his eyes.
"I'll take a Budweiser, and perhaps your number?" He spoke, a confident smile on his face, as he winked at me.
"My number?" I mused, pushing back off of the bar top as I went to grab his beer.
My back turned to the man, I glanced over to his students who looked at him in shock. "Yes, Ma'am." He spoke as I leaned over to grab the beer.
I turned around, beer in hand and I noticed I stood next to the bell. Luckily for both Bradley and I's bank account, it was only him and his handful of students. This was going to be one expensive prank. "Sorry Captain." I smirked as the color drained from his face. "You know the rules."
"Wait Y/N- no-" I cut him off, my grin growing as he reached forward only for me to ring the bell. He fell back into his seat from where he leaned, groaning as his students cheered.
"Alright Lieutenants I'll get your beers to go if you guys promise me you're not driving!" I spoke, pointing to the students who all nodded, smiling. I gave them their rounds and soon it was just Bradley and I left in the usually warm and vibrant bar.
"Hey Roos, can you lock up the bar for me, I just need to carry these boxes out to the dumpster, and then I'll meet you at the car?" I offered, picking up some cardboard beer boxes after placing my keys on the bartop.
"Yes ma'am." He winked, before coming up to me and wrapping an arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to my temple. I smiled, managing to peck a kiss to his nose as I walked out the bar.
The warm air night hit me as I walked out of the bar, the only noise coming from a faint hum of lights and the crashing ocean waves not too far away. My brows furrowed as I noticed a car that was parked in the parking lot that wasn't Bradley's blue Ford Bronco.
I smiled to myself, shrugging it off as someone who got too drunk and decided not to drive. The night was almost eerie, if it wasn't something I had done every day for closing I would have deemed it scary. I threw the cardboard boxes into the large recycling bin of the bar, before almost jumping at the sound of someone's voice.
"Y/N-" I turned to find Lieutenant Morwood, staggering with a beer bottle in hand. He interrupted my name with a drunken hiccup as he staggered closer to me. "L/N. You know- you-" He motioned towards me with my hand as I stepped backwards, my back hitting the recycling bin with a large 'thud'.
I was scared of the man before me, don't get me wrong I was in a fit shape but this man was a pilot. He could overpower me. I tensed against the recycling can as he came closer, grabbing my arm as my nose reeked with whatever beer he had found tonight. "You're a bitch." he spat, moving his hand up to hit me. I closed my eyes, bracing for impact and cowering into myself.
But it never came.
I opened my eyes to find Bradley, towering over the young and drunk Lieutenant, holding the younger man's hand with a death grip. This side of my husband relieved me, yet in any other circumstance I'd be scared out of my mind.
Lieutenant Morwood spun on his heels, going to curse at Bradley, causing the older man to let go of his wrist. Bradley wasted no time in delivering a swift punch to the lieutenant's jaw. Morwood stumbled over, barely catching himself as one hand clung to his jaw. He looked up at Bradley, who was panting and dared at him with an anger in his eyes that I had never seen.
Morwood scrambled off into the unfamiliar car in the lot- the driver peeling out as the Lieutenant managed to scurry into the passenger's seat. I heard myself sigh out a breath I didn't even know I was holding as I slid down the side of the recycling bin, my hands running through my hair. Bradley turned to me, kneeling before me as he held my crying figure in his arms.
"Shhh, you're okay." were the only words I could hear as I felt one of his arms around me, the other hand rubbing circles into my back. After what felt like ages, and was most likely two minutes, I felt myself began to stand up, only to be rushed into a hug by Bradley. His arms wrapped around my waist, resting above my hipline as he dug his head into my collarbone. "I'm sorry if I scared you-"
I forced a wry laugh through the remaining tears that were sliding off my face, cutting him off. "You didn't scare me Bradley. You protected me. Thank you." I spoke softly, digging my own face into the crook of his neck.
He moved his head upward, and I felt a kiss being pressed to the top of my head. I smiled as I breathed his hawaiian shirt in, before hearing his voice. "I will always protect you, Y/N. I love you." he spoke, and I swear I could hear the small grin form on his face.
Pulling back from the hug, I grinned up at the man before me, giving him a very light punch on his bicep as we walked to his blue Ford Bronco. He sat in the drivers seat, turning the key into the ignition as I sat in the passenger seat, closing my door.
"So. Pizza?" I asked, looking to my fiance in the seat beside me.
His warm eyes looked at me, a genuine smile forming on his face as he closed his eyes and raised his brows, taking in my request. "Pizza it is."
Slash x Reader
Word Count: 696
Warnings: A little bit of everything. Smut/Angst/Fluff.
- Alone? - A guy asked coming up to you at a party.
- No. - You answered seriously, without even turning around to see who it was.
- I don't see anyone near you. - The guy insisted and you turned to him.
- I have a boyfriend. - You said, and then he finally seemed to give up and left.
The truth was that you were alone, and you didn't have a boyfriend, not because you didn't want to, you really wanted to, but it was more complicated than it looked.
You arrived home hours later, exhausted, but you didn't want to end the night so soon, so you texted your crush asking him to come over to your house.
- Hey. - Slash said, already opening the door of your apartment with the extra key you had given him.
You got up from the bed excitedly and staggered over to him, promptly wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his mouth.
- Hi. - You said.
- Are you drunk? - He asked, barely able to speak properly with your lips pressed to his.
- No... - You said. - Yes. - You admitted, and then walked away from him and started to take off your clothes.
Slash watched silently as you took off your clothes, he licked his lips a few times, looking nervous, which had never happened before.
- I like you Slash. - You said as soon as you two climbed into bed, Slash's cock was already hard and he was taking off his shirt.
He made a strange face and then held your cheeks with both of his hands and kissed you.
- When you're drunk. - He said, and you were confused by what he meant.
Slash threw his body on the bed and you climbed on top of him, sitting on his abdomen and looking into his eyes.
- No. -You said seriously, your voice came out a little groggy because of the drink, or was it because you were nervous? - I like you when I'm sober too. - You said and leaned forward distributing kisses on his chest.
Slash remained silent, and you regretted having said too much, it was obvious that what you had was nothing more than casual sex, and Slash would never want anything serious with you.
You held Slash's dick with both hands and just as you were about to ride him, he put his hands on your waist and stopped you.
- I can't do this anymore Y/n. - He said.
You were flabbergasted, all because you had said too much, And now Slash didn't even want to fuck you anymore.
- I... I'm sorry... I... - You started trying to apologize but you didn't even know where to start.
- I like you Y/n, I can't keep it just casual anymore, I want you as my girlfriend. - Slash vented, and then his fingers started to roam your body, caressing your belly and then moving up to massage your tits. - It's hard for me to come here just when you feel alone, and then leave you like you're just any chick. - At that point, it was you who was silent. - And you are not.
You climbed off his lap, trying to absorb everything he said, did Slash like you? Was he asking you to be his girlfriend?
- I liked you for so long. - You vented, and Slash looked surprised.
- You did? - He asked.
- Yeah, and I still do. - You said, not having the courage to look at his face.
- I never thought you... - He paused. - I never thought you would want something serious with someone like me.
You couldn't believe what you were hearing, Slash was literally the best person you've ever met, how could he think you wouldn't want anything to do with him?
You fell silent, climbed on top of his body again, but this time carefully, Slash was staring at you in a way he'd never faced before, and you were sure he was thinking the same thing about you as you slowly shoved his dick in your pussy. You were in charge for a few minutes while Slash still looked a little unsure, but when you leaned forward and whispered an "I love you" in his ear, the "casual sex" turned to love.
𝐿♡𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 - 𝑅𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑢 𝐻𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑖
☆ x r e a d e r!
↺ 𝑭𝒕. 𝑹𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑹𝒂𝒏
≡ Rindou invited you to a party at his house.
[♡] Contains "suggestive words!!!"
You are one of Ran's best friends and he usually invites you to the various parties he has at his house, however, this time, the invitation came from his younger brother, Rindou, you found it strange that the blonde had done what you wanted. sudden invitation, however, every time you visited your best friend, he kept watching you discreetly, Rindou was clearly not the shy type of guy or the type who wouldn't know how to approach someone, so, out of curiosity to know the reason for the invitation, you accepted it immediately.
At nightfall, Ran promptly went to pick you up at your house, it didn't take you long to reach your final destination that night since the Haitani's residence is a few blocks from your house, that night in particular, you would sleep at their house, since the party would last all night and only end in the morning of the next day, as soon as they arrived at the place and entered the residence, which was completely full of people, Ran immediately went to talk to other friends who were present and Rindou appeared suddenly to receive you, he held a glass of drink in his hand and had a shy smile on his face, as the music was considerably loud and the place was extremely crowded, the tallest boy called you to the third floor of the house and quickly you accepted, then Rindou gently took your hand and led you up the stairs.
You sat next to each other on one of the sofas that exist in the place, Rindou put the drink he was holding aside and got even closer to you.
— You... You were the most beautiful person I saw my brother bring into the house.
The blonde said as he smiled, still looking shy.
— Do you really think so?
You felt your heart beat fast, that compliment really meant a lot to you, since you couldn't deny that you had a "little crush" on your best friend's brother.
Rindou moved even closer.
You answered in a few words.
— ...May I?
He looked away, seeming to have grown even more apprehensive.
— Wh-what are you waiting for?
You were silent and right after Rindou gave you a long kiss, gently holding tight to your waist, making the shirt you were wearing subtly lift up, leaving part of your abdomen visible.
You continued kissing and clearly you both wanted much more than a simple kiss, even though everything was going a little too fast...
Despite that, you waited a long time to be noticed by Rindou, and it took him a while to find the courage to declare himself, he had never fallen in love with someone before, for that reason, he was used to doing everything without any feelings, however, that time was different.
The taller interrupted the kiss suddenly, you didn't understand for a few seconds until you realized what was actually happening.
— I'm sorry about that.
He said embarrassed, right after picking up the glass of drink he had set aside and taking a sip.
— I-I... I can sort this out for you.
Almost immediately you offered to help him with the "problem".
— Are you sure, baby?
— Yes... But here?
You looked around, but the probability of someone entering that room at the time was very low.
— Won't be long, huh?
Rindou came close to you again, giving you an even slower kiss, making you sit carefully on his lap, he was still holding the glass with one hand and the other was inside his clothes, you no longer cared if whether they were rushing or not, they just wanted to enjoy the moment.
He was making you sit on him discreetly, holding tightly to your waist, allowing him to go even deeper while kissing your neck, making you let out small moans, when without expecting it, Ran simply appears in surprise at the door of the place where you were.
— What the fuck-, Fuck! I didn't see that shit.
Ran exclaimed to see you practically in the act, but ended up quickly leaving the place.
You and Rindou looked at each other scared for some time and then laughed together, since since Ran was almost falling down drunk, he probably wouldn't remember seeing anything.
i’m curious to what paul and little cake reader fight about but if i had to guess i would say paul usually let’s her win as an eternal apology for that One time
Oh, if only. Paul and reader did argue about how their children would be raised and who'd teach them. Reader wanted her children to know nothing of her mother or her planet, she wanted them to never learn of how she was hurt and scarred and Paul wanted them to know if only to show that one side of their family was horrible.
But that— that wasn't fair. Not in your eyes, anyways. To deem one side of the family completely horrible and the other one better, especially when it was your side. Your mother hurt you, yes, But your father didn't. He may have stayed silent under all those years of her mother's control but he was always there after. For you and the other wards. He was a father through and through, he cared but never controlled and to lable him evil, horrible simply didn't sit right with you. When you said this to Paul, he had the nerve to scoff.
“He is just as bad as your mother. He never stopped—”
“Enough!” You snap. Your hands fly to your protruding belly as you stand— you wobble on your feet for a moment and black spots swarm your vision but you refuse to just sit here and let him slander your father. “You were not there. You did not live in that house or on that planet. You do not get to throw these... These meaningless claims around as if you were.”
You see Paul wilt for a moment and you think he'll apologize. He has been softer with you since you've fallen pregnant, bowing under your needs to make sure your comfort always came first. But then, he stands, it's one sweeping movement that has the cape of his suit snapping. Oh.
It's gonna be like that then?
“No.” You spit, glaring up at him. You take a step back, hands still smoothing over your belly. “You do not get to order me around like I'm some dog!”
His face pinches and his hands curl into fist he promptly places behind his back. His lips purse and his eyes flicker away with a scoff— he swallows whatever the words he wanted to say, still being soft with you in the midst of an argument. It only serves to piss you off more.
“Say it, Paul.”
He ignores that, taking a step forward. “I do not wish to argue with you.” His hands drop from his back and he wrangles a pale hand through his curls. “Please, My Star. Just sit, get off your feet– I know your ankles ache. Just sit and talk to me.” His hand reaches for you and your body sings. You tilt your head, ready to accept the warmth of his palm against your face but the warmth never comes as he drops it to your stomach instead, his hand over yours. “All this stress isn't good for the baby.”
You blink. Once, twice, then scoff out a laugh and shake his hand off. “You’re unreal, Atreides.” His name leaves your mouth like a curse and it stings more than it should even when you both share it.
Paul looks absolutely shocked, his green eyes blown wide as you storm out the room. And, well, shit. His father had warned him to be careful with his words, that women are more fragile— more emotional when carrying another human. But this? You pushed at his buttons constantly, baiting him into petty arguments and debates. This wasn't supposed to be an argument nor a debate and yet, it ended in one where he had lost and with you horribly angry. Atreides. Atreides. Atreides. How can ones’ given name be turned into a curse? A weapon so carefully crafted it could only hurt the one it's aimed at? Atreides. Atreides. Atreid–
His father stands almost hesitantly at the door you left from. His lips pressed thin as he gives the room a once over then zoning in on his son who's still standing there, looking at his hands. “First real argument?”
“Didn’t even know we were arguing till she started yelling.” Paul answers, his hands dropping. “Almost said something I shouldn't have and I stopped myself. That made her angrier somehow.”
“Ah.” Leto hums, his hands deep in his pockets. He looks off to the side, that look of hesitancy coming back. “You should apologize to her. Soon, before Duncan asks what's wrong.”
Right, that wouldn't be too pretty. Duncan saw you as a little sister, you saw him as a brother and as much as Duncan loved him, you're pregnant and prone to tears when someone disagrees with you most days.
“I will.” He sighs, then he turns and looks at his father. “You here to collect me then? Another meeting?”
Leto Atreides nods and Paul holds back another sigh. Apologizing would have to wait it seems.
The Jevin Egg Disaster is the funniest thing I’ve read in a while! Let me ask, how is the Soup Group handling the situation? Mainly Gem seeing the other two with a hoard of tiny clones each
"Aw, but we should keep them! Look, they're still coming into their hooves! <3"
Jevin resists the urge, once more, to ask how Gem is making that noise with her mouth. In front of her, a tiny Pearl is stumbling. He... supposes the hatchling does somewhat resemble a baby deer in that regard? Stumbling through the grass, Gem occasionally gently propping them up again? Hooves is a strange word to use for whatever the alien moth feet Pearl has are, but...
...after Scar (and Zedaph, dear lord he's trying not to think about what Zedaph is probably doing), it's a little refreshing to know that someone is being slightly normal about this.
"We don't know where they came from. Besides, if every egg hatches, that's, uh. Cleo. We did the math," Jevin says.
"Three-hundred and twenty four," Cleo promptly responds.
"Right. That means there would be - I'm sorry, how many? Are you sure you did that right?"
"Oh, I'm sorry Jevin, which one of us had to teach math to children?"
"You were a science teacher?"
"Yeah, and it involved math."
"Okay, okay. Three hundred and..."
Gem is staring at them with wide eyes. Jevin thinks they're sparkling. Oh no.
"You mean," Gem starts slowly, "that there are over three hundred of these adorable little guys?"
"That's not a good thing, Gem," Jevin starts, slowly.
"Oh my god. I have to tell Pearl. This is fantastic!" Gem claps her hands. "So many little fawns! Awwww!"
"No, no Gem," says Cleo. "No."
"I'm going to give them all cute little sweaters and teach them how to swim!"
"All three-hundred and twenty four?"
"Of course. I'm not going to leave anyone out, you know!"
Jevin and Cleo look at each other.
"Right," Cleo says. "You have fun with that."
Okay, there are some glaring holes in Espio's alibi from the beginning and I think it's super interesting. I'm also gonna dissect Espio's alibi using information we don't find out until after interrogating him the first time, because I feel like it's important to bring up and still brings Espio's alibi into question in hindsight.
Espio claims he was reading in a location where he wouldn't be able to be seen; behind a bookshelf. He also claims he started reading immediately after Amy told him and Vector to stay in the library car, specifically saying "I promptly picked a book off the shelf and made myself comfortable." Two problems with this: he mentions seeing Rouge throwing things around, which, unless he was sitting at the desk next to the bookshelf he presumably got the book from, would've been impossible. He also did actually mention seeing Shadow come through and lock the door the first time, which means he couldn't have been in the location he claimed to be in during the interrogation of him and Vector (unless he moved obviously, although I will be debunking this in another point).
He says "We heard her" when he mentions Rouge shouted "NO WAY!" At this point in time, Vector was still in the saloon car, meaning Espio was in the library car alone (and he even mentions this himself). Vector wouldn't have heard her, only Espio would have.
During the interrogation of Vector and Espio, they both claim Espio was just super invested in the book he was reading. If this is true, and he was so invested he didn't hear the doors opening, closing, or locking, he likely would not have heard Rouge at all, or seen her throwing books around. This is a weaker point, but I still find it worth mentioning.
This is brought up later in the game depending on what you choose to say during the second interrogation of Espio, but given the nature of the Mirage Express AND the fact that a top secret code was on the blueprints, why would its blueprints even be in the library car? The conductor wouldn't have put them there, so how did they even get there? This answer is only actually given if you claim Espio stole the blueprints from the conductor during his second interrogation, that answer being Espio stole them from the conductor, then stuffed them in with the brochures.
Espio claims Vector was the only one to see him reading; Tails mentions that Shadow would've seen him reading, but if Espio knew Rouge was in the library car, Rouge would've also seen him reading, because he claims he started reading immediately after arriving in the library car.
I do genuinely think how protective Vector was of Espio was suspicious, especially given some of his dialogue. When Espio says Vector had to tap his shoulder to get his attention, Vector doesn't say "I remember doing that!" He says "I think I remember doing that!" He's not completely sure on his support of Espio's alibi, which, in my opinion, is absolutely a red flag. I'd even argue that Vector was being protective like he was because he's friends with Espio, which is supported by him saying "Way to tell the room you don't have any friends." if you say Vector's protectiveness is suspicious during the second interrogation of Espio.
Espio can turn invisible, something that actually came to my mind when Barry asked about Espio somehow disappearing. This would've enabled him to sneak by the other players more easily, and it's implied in the visuals that he used his invisibility to leave after hitting Sonic with the blow dart, specifically in this shot during Sonic's recounting of how Espio "murdered" him:
Espio could've easily pointed out where he was if he was actually behind a bookshelf; instead, he literally begs Tails to believe him. What this implies to me is he never went beyond the first half of the library car, otherwise he could've easily pointed out that that's where he was reading.
Aside from everything I've presented here, it's really easy to say you read for an hour, and disproving it is even harder, which Espio used to his advantage in the first interrogation of him. Remember, it's not even Espio defending himself in the final part of his interrogation, it's Barry. Had we not stepped in to defend Espio, he likely would've been accused outright, but because we defend him, Tails doesn't get that chance.
I'm not sure if the amount of holes in Espio's initial alibi was intentional, but if it was, it was really really well done. It's a believable alibi with just enough holes in it that they initially go by unnoticed and you have to stop and think critically about what Espio is saying to notice them.
Eddie wishes he can remember the first time he met Steve. Wishes it was suitably weighty and dramatic, some grand portentous moment he could point to and claim that yes, he always knew this one was going to be important to him. That this one was going to be everything.
But nope, Eddie can't remember jack shit. And not in the usual way he can't remember things, like his keys or his wallet or what time he's supposed to show up somewhere, but in the more generic, too-young-to-stick kind of way that always annoyed the shit out of him when his dad tried to claim some long forgotten acquaintance that cooed over him once in a stroller. Whatever first encounter between the two of them that must have occurred in some playground or parking lot is lost forever to the mists of history, unrecorded and unremarked-upon. Eddie's first clear memory of Steve Harrington isn't until high school, an annoying little freshman horsing around in a too-big jersey on game day when Eddie was just trying to get to his fucking locker, but by then they'd been vaguely aware of each other's existence for time immemorial. That's just how it works when you grow up in the same twenty square miles.
Steve doesn't remember either; Eddie checked. Steve's first clear memory of Eddie is a little earlier - apparently there was a very contentious game of Red Rover that almost came to blows while Steve was running laps, Eddie remembers the detention if not the observer - but he already knew who Eddie was just the same as Eddie knew about him. That Harrington boy, that Munson boy, one grade apart and opposite sides of the tracks but still trapped in the same little rat maze of existence just the same.
It doesn't bother Steve the way it does Eddie, the not-remembering. But then, Steve doesn't have a feel for narrative the way Eddie does, has no room for poetry in his pragmatic little soul. Steve doesn't really give a damn about how they began so much as making sure they don't have an end, and it's one of Eddie's favorite things about him, how fucking straightforward he can be about shit when Eddie feels like he's in an eternal tailspin - but it's also a little frustrating, too, because it means he's alone in telling a story that doesn't have a proper beginning.
So, he tells it a different way. Ignores all the backstory, two houses very much not alike in dignity, circling each other in lazy unknowing orbit. Ignores the collision, broken bottle and a boat oar, ignores the fun little stroll through a hell dimension and flirting over felony grand theft auto. Picks up right there in media res on their way to the end of the world, with Steve grabbing him by his collar on his way of his front door into a hell dimension, frowning at him like Eddie had personally insulted his mother.
"Hey hey hey, where do you think you're going like that?"
"Um?" Eddie squinted back at him, not sure if he was more taken aback by being summarily scruffed like an unruly dog or how weirdly unthreatened he felt by the entire experience. "I don't think someone dressed like an extra from Top Gun has room to insult my fashion choices."
Steve made this hilarious little squinched-up face, like, what? And then promptly ignored him. "Zip that shit up," he said, releasing Eddie in order to gesture to his shirtfront. "Those layers won't do jack shit if you leave it open."
There was a lot to unpack there, not the least Steve's beleaguered single-mother-of-four tone, but Eddie focused on the most important part. "You remember my part in the plan, right? Hard to play a badass guitar solo when I'm all bundled up, dude."
Steve hit him with the most unimpressed look Eddie had ever seen on a human face, and he'd been in and out of detention since grade six. "Hard to play anything with your guts ripped out, dude."
That… was a compelling point. Eddie looked guiltily down at Steve's middle, the bulk of makeshift bandages just visible under the thick fabric of his t-shirt, then shifted his spear to his other hand in order to zip up his jacket. At Steve's expectant expression, he sullenly zipped up the vest, too.
"Happy now?" he said, spreading his arms for inspection. "Do I pass muster, my liege?"
Steve just looked him up and down, like he was actually checking, and then gave him an absolutely shithead grin that Eddie remembered from high school and clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll do."
Dustin eyed him with hilarious skepticism as they emerged from the trailer, but kept his mouth shut until Steve and co. were venturing off into the woods. Out of the corner of his mouth, he said, "You look like Rambo screwed the Stay-Puft marshmallow."
"Shut the fuck up," Eddie said gratefully, and then Eddie played a concert, and Eddie played the hero, and Eddie didn't die. And that's why he starts the story there, right in the middle of everything: because it was the first time Steve took care of him when he needed it.
It definitely wasn't the last.
Two Nerds, One Bed || Spengler x reader
Title: Two Nerds, One Bed (Egon Spengler x gn!reader)
Warnings: Lots of fluff, I feel like Egon might be out of character a bit but.. shhh...
Word Count: 2,200~
Notes: You (reader) celebrate Christmas. You also hate Christmas and would rather not go to your family’s house because I said so… I am not projecting at all… Gender-neutral reader (but kind of on the feminine side of things just bc I'm used to writing fem readers , but it's also vague enough that it qualifies as gn?? bare with me guys, I’m not used to actually posting my work) I looked up overused yet loved tropes and this one was it. There also may be typos, I’ve gone over this like a hundred times and I keep finding stuff to tweak--Hope you enjoy!
A pretty rude ghost on the outskirts of the city. A two-man job on Christmas week. Now, the Ghostbusters didn’t take out-of-town calls often, but it was a big week and they were feeling generous. The cranky old lady who called said she’d pay handsomely to get the damn thing out of her house.
Even though he was the one to take the call and accept the job, Venkman had the week planned with Dana, so he dumped the work on someone else. Winston was with his family, so he couldn’t and wouldn’t take it. While Ray stayed in New York, he was doing his own celebrating with his beloved "Ecto-mobile" and a family of his own.
On the other side of things, Egon was Jewish--but even then, he never really celebrated holidays, so the entire month just felt like a normal month in New York for him. Just a lot more snow and terrible, repetitive music playing on the radio. Work seemed to get busier, the city-people angrier even when they sang of being jolly. He hyper-focused on people’s emotions, always trying to find where it came from… home issues, the cold, he’d never know.
As the last of the gang? You wanted any excuse not to go back home for Christmas. You wanted snow, and you desperately wanted to stay hundreds and hundreds of miles away from your mother asking when you’d get a real job–a desk job–and not some silly performance gig. New York was your new home, ghosts and all. Your family home was left far behind you and forgotten. For the most part.
So, you and Egon were the only two 'busters available for the job. He looked up a hotel near the old lady’s place so that on the way back you two had somewhere to sleep beside the car, and you kept your fingers crossed that it wouldn't be packed when you got there.
The customer’s name was Gerda, she was a somewhat scary woman in her late 70s–living alone and content as so. She made sure to hammer that into your heads, saying how annoying the surprisingly quiet and low-rank the ghost haunting her was. Ms. Gerda wasn’t exactly the kindest woman, her thick German accent didn’t help much with that, either–but she thanked you after paying cash with weighted appreciation in her mother tongue. Then, she promptly kicked you out.
You left with the ghost trap still smoking, shoving it into the back of the car with the hope that it’d be fine overnight by itself as you drove to the hotel. You packed light, and thankfully neither of you were slimed, so you were mainly clean and sane looking as you entered the very busy lobby. You had stripped to your everyday clothes (plus a few jackets and scarfs for the cold) before walking into the building. It seemed busier inside than out.
You went to the desk ahead of Egon, bitterly cold and overly excited to get into a room with hot tea and a nice shower. And warm sheets, though they wouldn’t be very warm at first. "Sorry, there's only one available at the moment." The young lady at the desk said, blowing a bubble with her pink bubble gum. She didn't seem at all sorry, more annoyed that she had to be working and talking to customers.
Egon raised an eyebrow, noticing your failure to respond fast enough. You were just weighing your options. You and Egon, spending the night in the same room? What would he even think about that? He seemed like he was going to decline, probably offering to drive back to the station while you slept in the passenger seat–he was too nice like that sometimes. You wondered what you did to deserve his kindness.
“We’ll take it,” You said quickly, pulling out your wallet. Egon looked to you as if asking if you were sure, and you just shrugged. “I don’t want to drive all night and I’m sure you don’t either.” You whispered, earning an honest, semi-enthused grunt from the man.
"I'll sleep on the couch. Or the chair. Whatever's there.” Egon said slowly as you made your way down the hallway, your eyes glancing from the number attached to the key, to the room numbers. “You take the bed. I know your back hurts whenever you sleep on anything else," He said as he took the key and opened the door for you. You would’ve laughed at his words had you not fallen victim to his unintentional charm. He was too caring then, it caught you off guard. You simply didn’t spend enough time with the man to warrant such a reaction.
With Venkman, you got flirted with constantly, even when he was in a relationship with Dana. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was genuinely interested, or if he did it for shock factor. Probably the latter, but it was unnerving either way. He’d probably be trying to get you into bed if it’d been Peter who went on this trip with you. Winston, Winston was a good guy and a good friend. But sleeping in the same bed? You’d be embarrassed beyond words. The relationship between the two of you was strictly platonic–the same with Ray.
But with Egon things were different. Way different. You wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with him, and your big fat crush on him certainly contributed to the idea that made your face turn red. He was gentle, kind. Awkward. But anyone would be awkward if they were as smart yet stupid as him.
You were also surprised at how composed you were, taking initiative with the keys and the like. You wondered if Egon found it curious, how quick you were to agree to a one-bed situation. But if he was thinking about it, he didn’t say anything–all the words leaving his mouth were about the sleeping situation instead.
As you looked around the room, you both placed your bag on the bed and inspected the quite sad furniture. "You were saying?" You said. It was only the bed, a desk, and a broken chair–it’s back laying in the corner of the room.
"The floor looks comfortable," He said, you knew he was joking. You snorted.
"Just sleep with me," You suggested, seemingly unphased. Though inside you certainly were not. At times like then, you were glad Egon couldn't read minds. "It's not like you've got another choice." You sighed, placing your bathroom bag on the nightstand beside you.
"Plus, I'm not the only one with a bad back, Dr. six foot two.." You joked, your hands pointing towards him and wiggling. The eye contact almost made you drop, your knees threatening to buckle and break.
He blushed at your comment, removing his luggage from the bed just to do something with his hands. "Fine, if you're sure you're comfortable sharing with me." He said, face warm, but you didn’t notice as your mind was elsewhere. Aka, being lost in his eyes, which were then looking anywhere but back into yours.
"Well, why wouldn't I be? You're certainly not Venkman." You joked, but it was true. He was respectful in all regards. If he accidentally touched you, he'd apologize. Not many men did that, not many men you knew at least.
"I trust you," You said, quietly removing your bag as well and putting it on the floor to join Spengler’s. You heard a noise from his side, sounding like he was clearing his throat. You looked away, slightly embarrassed at what you’d admitted. "Well, it's not that late yet.. want a drink? They should have a water heater around here somewhere. Teabags too."
He sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over his knee as he watched you inspect the little kitchen area. "If there are any." He shrugged–a nod somewhere in there as well–an awkward gesture of approval and appreciation. You smiled back.
You found the water heater, put it on, and made the two of you some tea. It wasn't the best tasting tea--they didn't give you any sugar, so you sipped reluctantly the rest of the night just to have something–free–in your stomach.
The hours passed, the clock reached 10 pm. "When do you usually sleep?" You asked as you shimmied your way under the sheets in your pajamas; sweatpants, and a t-shirt. Minus the socks, but you regretted taking them off as it got cold very quickly.
"Not this early," he admitted, pulling the blankets that I stole back over his lap as his eyes fixed on the book in his hand. "You go to sleep at ten, I assume?"
"And wake up at six." You nodded, a yawn escaping your lips. He looked down at you and smiled a bit before closing the book on his bookmark--the one you bought him for his birthday a year ago. He asked for no presents--nothing special, but you couldn't resist.
"Well, you seem exhausted. Goodnight." You nodded at his words, closing your eyes. A part of you was disappointed at how quick he was to dismiss you to sleep--you had hoped to perhaps talk a bit into the night. But as the lamp light from his side of the bed turned off with the sound of a little click, the room plunged into a quiet darkness.
After a couple minutes you began to shake, you brought your hands to your mouth, hoping your breath would warm you. It took you a couple more minutes before you decided to speak up about it, the cold becoming too much. "Uh. Egon?"
"Mm?" He didn't sound very tired at all. You felt somewhat silly to sleep next to a man who didn't want to sleep much at all.
"I know you're not big on touching me and stuff--"
"That's not what I meant," He interjected, but you kept talking.
"--but it's like, really, really cold. Can you hold me?" The plea came from your lips quickly, coldly--teeth chattering. You could hear him clear his throat quietly before making an almost inaudible sound of approval.
He turned on his side, bringing you into a hug. A very, very awkward hug. It felt warmer, but it felt a lot more awkward than you expected it to. So, you shifted on your side as well, facing him and pressing your face into him as you snuggled your body into his chest.
He didn't make a sound, but he seemed to have loosened a bit, his arms feeling less robotic around you. "See? Not so hard, now is it?" You giggled into his chest after another nice moment, words muffled into his sleep shirt.
He just tightened his arms around you, one palm laying flat on your back, his thumb rubbing sweet, soothing circles into your shoulder blade.
It felt nice, in that... ‘is this allowed?’ kind of way. You'd liked Egon for a while. Romantically, and not. Beforehand, that was. You were best friends before any real feelings surfaced. And cuddling with him just felt.. so right.
"You feel warm," He commented, causing you to press your hands to his chest, toying with the fabric of his button-up shirt with his matching trousers. God, he was such a silly man. You let yourself breathe, trying to resist the urge to inhale his scent. He smelled like… maplewood and pine. A hint of citrus too, you tried not to lose yourself in his aroma.
You could tell he was trying to see if you were faking it. Perhaps pretending to be cold so you could wrap yourself in his arms. "Mm, you're warmer. You feel so good," You murmured, snuggling closer if it was possible.
He gulped, you felt it, and his heartbeat was beating against your right fist as you balled up his shirt and let it go a few times.
"Go to sleep," he hissed, and you looked up at him with a scrunched up nose, lightheartedly offended.
"Rude," You said, before scooting up, face closer to him. His eyes seemed to widen, and you couldn't help but chuckle at that.
"You can't sleep with your glasses on, Spengs." You took them off his face slowly before reaching over him to put them on his side of the nightstand.
"I was not exactly planning to sleep just yet," His voice was nervous again.
"How am I supposed to sleep if you don't? Come on, close your eyes," You sighed, laying your head on his pillow--leaving your own behind in the sake of warmth. Your hands covered his eyes, and once you knew they were shut, you took your hands away. "There,"
"This is not doing much..." Egon chuckled, his thousand-dollar smile being flashed your way. It was beautiful, he was so beautiful.
You pressed your hands to his jaw, cupping his face as he smiled with his eyes closed, laughing at your stupid attempt to get him to sleep.
"Stop being so handsome or I swear I'm going to fall in love with you," The words left your mouth before you could really process them, thumbs caressing his cheeks.
He opened his eyes, meeting yours quickly. He muttered your name. You readied yourself for the worst, shutting your eyes tight to avoid seeing his face in the dark. You didn't want to see his discomfort, if there was any.
"Well, I should continue to be handsome then," He said, quiet, under his breath, but loud enough in the deathly silence that you could very possibly hear it from the damn bathroom. "Because I seem to already in love with you. I’ve just been hoping you felt the same."
Your hands stayed on his face, cupping his cheeks a bit tighter--and you kissed him. He kissed you back. It certainly wasn’t the most skilled kiss you’ve ever been apart of, but it was certainly the best one you’d had. ‘Cause it was with Egon. And he’d admitted to you something you could’ve only dreamt of. That he loved you.
Sup bitches im back
I don't think I've ever written a tickle fic with lee Sirius ler Remus and I find that to be insulting so here ya go, I'm throwing this fic at you
ive had a busy week so I'm srry for being kinda inactive lol
its been a bit tiring but hopefully writing this will help relax me or smth along those lines
So yeah enjoy
"Oh, Sirius!!" Remus called in a sing song voice as he waltzed over to where Sirius was lightly dozing in the cool spring weather, his tie carelessly thrown off to the side.
Sirius jolted awake and sat up, fixing his appearance.
"Y-yeah, what's up?" He replied.
"Since you keep tormenting me I've decided I am long overdue for some payback," Remus said nonchalantly. "Lay down, arms up."
"What?!" Sirius exclaimed, his face turning a light pink. "No way in hell am I just letting you tickle me."
"Oh, so you are ticklish?" Remus teased.
"What, no!" Sirius' face darkened.
"Cause I wasn't sure about you being ticklish, but now~" he said, a mischievous grin emplated on his face.
Before Sirius could run away from Remus and his plans of torture, Remus grabbed his ankles and pulled him downwards so that he was laying flat on his back.
Remus scrambled to pin Sirius' hands, and sat down on his waist so that he couldn't get up.
"Remus!! Let me goho!" Sirius shouted, tugging at his arms that were pinned above his head by Remus' surprisingly strong arms.
"Oh I'll let you go," Remus said absent-mindedly as he looked Sirius up and down, deciding where to go for first. "But not before I've thoroughly subjected you to my tickly wrath."
He pinned Sirius' hands under his knees, facing them so that he was unable to squeeze his knees.
He grinned when Sirius realized how screwed he was.
"Soo~" he hummed, wiggling his fingers above Sirius' stomach causing Sirius to yelp. "Where shall we start?"
"D-dohohon't-" Sirius squealed when Remus' wiggling fingers moved up to his ribs, hovering just above the skin.
"Don't what?" Remus asked, tilting his head in mock confusion.
"Tickle me!" Sirius fell for the oldest trick in the book, but he always did.
"Okay!" Remus replied cheerfully and promptly dug his teasing hands into Sirius' hyper sensative belly.
Sirius shrieked, arching his back and cackling.
"NOHOHO- nAHahAh!!" Sirius' back came crashing down and instead he opted for wiggled his body left to right to attempt to escape the tickle torment.
"Do you like belly rubs, Padfoot?" Remus teased switching his method to vibrating his hand into his tummy.
Sirius frantically shook his head, not managing to get a word out.
"No, you don't? You seem to be smiling quite alot for someone who doesn't like belly rubs." Remus said slipping his hand underneath his shirt to gently trace on Sirius' soft belly.
This only seemed to make Sirius laugh harder though.
"REHEHEMUS!! IT TIHIHICKLES!!" He arched his back once more which only pushed Remus' fingers more into his tummy.
Remus removed his hands from Sirius" stomach, giving him a break.
He leaned forward and kissed Sirius' warm cheeks while Sirius huffed and panted, but he leaned into the affection.
"Is-is ihit over?" Sirius huffed and looked up at Remus with puppy dog eyes, which always worked on Remus.
Remus hummed and contemplated letting Sirius go.
"Not yet, love," he decided. "I still have a few more spots to try. Then I'll let you go, m'kay?"
"Ohokay.." he answered. "Anything f-for our Moony.."
"Good boy," he rewarded Sirius with a kiss on the forehead.
Remus leaned down and squeezed Sirius' knees, a spot that was deadly on himself but had no affect on Sirius besides some light squirming.
"Hmm.." Remus moved his squeezing hands to Sirius' thighs and the reaction was instantaneous.
He let out a high pitched shriek and started laughing once more when Remus didn't stop.
"WhyHYHY DOHOES THAT TIHICKLE?!" He complained through his giggles.
"What a ticklish little doggo," he leaned up and continued the vibrating belly rubs with one of his hands while the other continued squeezing his thighs, up and down. "tickle, tickle, Sirius~"
"NAHAHEHEHEE!!!" He threw his head back again, tugging his arms.
Remus stopped the squeezing and vibrating but instead leaned up to raspberry his belly getting another shriek out of Sirius.
He continued his raspberries all over his stomach, ever daring to go over his naval.
When Remus leaned back up for air he was proud of the color of Sirius' face, and how he didn't stop laughing even though Remus wasn't tickling him anymore.
He stuck with the maddening light touches again but instead over on his sides, which weren't that sensitive.
Sirius did start giggling more significantly when Remus moved up to his ribs though which intrigued Remus.
The higher and higher he went the louder Sirius' laughter went and the squirming intensified.
He smirked and dug his hands into his armpits and when Sirius once more cackled and arched his back Remus blew a raspberry on his belly.
"REHEHEMUS!! STAHAHAP!!" He pleaded, his laughter becoming horse.
"Hmm.." Remus took his time thinking about stopping, prolonging having to stop.
"PLEHEHEASEE!!" He screamed, tugging at his arms fiercely.
Remus let go of his arms and took his hands away from Sirius' body, watching him calm down.
Sirius covered his face with his hands bur quiet giggles could still be heard.
"Lemme see that adorable face," Remus held Sirius' hands and stroked them with his thumbs.
"There you are." He kissed Sirius on the lips this time, feeling the heat off of Sirius' face and let Sirius giggle through the kiss.
"I like you like this," Remus said after pulling away. "You're all nice and giggly."
"Shut up.." Sirius huffed, looking away.
"I don't think you wanna be saying stuff like that to me in your position right now," Remus grinned, briefly scribbling on his belly again getting an indignant "hey!" out of Sirius.
Remus rolled over off of Sirius and lay next to him, holding his hand and looking up at the clouds.
They lay in silence for a while, enjoying each other's company.
"I think you're more ticklish than I am." Remus broke the silence.
"Oi," Sirius nudged a giggling Remus. "Don't push it."
Hope you liked
For the spooktober prompts: Matt Murdock fae au with the prompt "Looks like someone wants to be a mom" pls?
I hope you don't mind but I altered the prompt slightly! Just to sounds instead of looks. Sorry it's not really on the sexy side.
Everyone knew the forest at the back of town was dangerous. It was said that fae walked the woods and would steal away anyone who so much as walked into the woods.
And yet, you found yourself walking amongst them with no fear.
What had you to lose after what you'd been through over the past month? Perhaps the fae would be kinder than your village.
You still jumped when you heard someone speak.
"Lost, sweetheart?" You whirled around and promptly lost your breath at the man standing in front of you.
He was beautiful. Auburn hair, brown eyes that seemed to glow, antlers that curled above his head, elongated ears that came to a delicate point.
Simply put, he was the most gorgeous being you'd ever seen. And you knew immediately that he was dangerous.
"No. No, I'm not lost." You said quietly, deferentially. You didn't want to upset the fae after all.
"Then what is it that brings you into my forest?" You shivered and looked down.
"I... I'm sure it would seem trivial to you. But I'll tell you if you truly want to know." When the fae inclined his head, you told him everything.
About how the village healer claimed you were barren, as that could be the only reason your husband and you had been unable to conceive. At the news, your husband had called you worthless and left you, quickly replacing you with a younger woman. The village now considered you a spinster at best, damaged goods at worst. No man would ever want you and you? You were dealing with the heartbreak of knowing you'd never hold your own babe in your arms.
"So, you see, sir... I'm not lost, simply uncaring of what happens." You admitted. You had to admit that you had to lack a certain level of care to walk into such a dangerous place. The fae had listened to you with a soft frown on his face and when he stepped closer to you, you couldn't deny the way your heart skipped a beat.
"Sounds like someone wants to be a mother." He said softly. "I could assist with that if you'd like."
You took in a sharp breath, surprised at his offer.
"I... yes, I would like to be a mother but, I told you. I can't-"
"You are not the barren one, sweetheart." You froze. "You are actually quite fertile. If I had to guess, it was your husband who was the infertile one."
You didn't miss the way his lip curled at the mention of your husband... ex husband. But listening to him, if he was right...
Then you weren't the problem. But after the way the village treated you, you knew no one there would ever be willing to give you a chance. But if you came back from the forest with child...
That could be even worse.
"I know what you are thinking. Which is why if you accepted my offer, you would have to stay here. Within the forest where I could keep you and our child safe."
Your heart pounded as you considered his words. You knew making a deal with the fae was a fool's errand but if he would take care of you too?
"What do you gain from this, fae?" You asked boldly. While you knew angering him could be catastrophic for you, you needed to know what you were getting into. The fae smiled.
"Matthew. My name is Matthew. And I gain a child. And potentially... a mate. I've grown lonely in this forest. I know you are wondering if this is too good to be true, but I promise these are my only intentions. Isn't it enough to ask you to give up any connection to the outside world?" He mused. You were beyond shocked. He had given you his name. Surely that must be a sign he was telling the truth.
You mulled it over for several moments before you finally looked at the fae- Matthew again. He was smirking as if he already knew your answer.
"When do we begin?"
"Right now." He purred, offering his hand.
You took it without a second thought and just like that, your new life began.
this is my very first non anon request! hehee :>
could u do either a fluff or a smut (or maybe even a fluffly smut) where the reader is taking a bubble bath with vinny and include him making himself a little bubble beard? please i'm sobbing just thinking about this. 🥺🥺
also, idc how many time i've said it i'll still say it again, you are amazing and i love your work and i love you! okayy byye <33 🤸♀️
┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚.
┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙭 𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙗!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧.
┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒-𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙚.
┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 2,422.
┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙤 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 & 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨! 𝙄’𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩! 𝙄 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙄 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩! 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮’𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮! ❤️
┊ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — @peachygothgirl ; @mrs-heelshire ; @slasherfantasy ; @loraxlola ; @the-wordis-bird ; @suguruswife ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @lttlegore ; @mehidktbh ; @darklylucid ; @liquid-beepers ; @callmemeelah ; @the-anxious-youth ; @dootys ; @bloodwithpeachmilk
Sparkling rays of sunlight glistened through dusty windowpanes, dawn’s first light glaring down upon both you and Vincent, who was contentedly snoozing away between your legs. It was orange, blaring across purple skies as any inkling of dusk began to drain, being replaced with hues of blues and lilacs.
A soft hum escaped you, feeling Vincent’s head nestle against your stomach, arms wrapped tightly around you. He was pretty like this, dark hair all disheveled from sleep, in some tangle around his shoulders. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and pajama pants that seemed a little to snug — not that you minded.
His mask was neatly perched atop the small, rickety nightstand to the left of your creaking mattress. The more you and Vincent really dived into your relationship, the more he was comfortable with taking the mask off.
Vincent’s tall, lanky musculature was all sprawled out and wedged in between your legs — that's how you usually slept sometimes, and you loved it. You trailed your fingers throughout his tresses, gently working out any knots you came across, listening to his breathing and the little flutter within his throat.
It was a rarity for the two of you to not be sleeping down in the basement, but Vincent had a change of heart just for last night, and so the two of you slept in your dismal bedroom. It was made all the more comfortable with Vincent around, at least.
The Louisiana sun was exceptionally warm at such an early hour, even when it cascaded through the windows. Those glittering, orange rays fell across your bed, a sliver hitting your face. You promptly wriggled to the side, carefully avoiding the growing light as if you were some sort of vampire.
Those calloused, nimble hands that had squeezed into your waist happened to stir, and there was movement from below as Vincent began to wake up, slowly but surely. Your fingers ceased within his hair, recoiling toward your chest. A throaty hum escaped him, head tilting in your direction, finding your visage.
His smile was faint, barely noticeable, but present nonetheless as your palm cupped his scarred cheek, fingertips caressing around his nose. Vincent made some sort of purring sound, intermingled with a guttural grunt, turning his face just enough to kiss your hand. Such a simplistic gesture made you get all hot.
“Hey,” You crooned, feeling Vincent take ahold of your other hand. Grogginess began to wear off of the both of you, the hour still relatively early. He acknowledged your whisper with a little nod of his head, caressing his thumb across your knuckles. “Did you sleep well?”
Vincent released your hand, only for a moment, answering your question with a series of sluggish signing, ‘I did, thanks to you,’ That made you smile, exuberant and smitten, and it was worthwhile. ‘What about you? Are you alright?’
You nodded, pushing a hand through your disheveled tresses, lounging back against the pillows with a dopey, contented smile. These sort of mornings were always your favorites, the lazy ones where Vincent was completely and utterly at ease. “Peachy.” You snicker, shrugging your shoulders. “Do you want to take a bath?”
Of course, your inquiry is met with plenty of enthusiasm. Vincent lets out a throaty noise of approval, pressing his lips against your midsection, or what little skin is exposed, at least. ‘Five more minutes.’ Vincent signs, gently easing your shirt up as he peppers your body in sweet kisses.
Goosebumps form along the base of your spine, pleasant tingles that make your heart beat just a little faster. His roughened mouth feels heavenly against your soft skin, especially so early. The gentle noises you make are bound to become moans if he keeps it up, creeping up from between your legs. His mouth settles against your breast, eyes fluttering toward your face for only a moment.
You’re counting down the minutes within the back of your mind, just for punctuality’s sake. Your lips fall agape, a softer gasp being elicited from you as Vincent’s mouth wraps around one of your nipples, slowly sucking and kissing. Your eyes nearly close completely, sinking into some half-lidded stare.
The sensations he delivers are perfect each and every time, always practiced with the perfect amount of compassion and neediness. Vincent’s lips are everywhere, slowly tugging away from your breast, kissing the valley between, dancing across your collarbone, until he comes right up to your own mouth instead.
Like fire and ice, the clash is intoxicating, your kiss is enough to make Vincent groan. His hands are splayed out across your waist, his taller, lanky musculature almost fully on top of you, not that you mind. You trail your fingers through his dark tresses, shuddering beneath him as you let the kiss last just another moment longer.
“Bath time, Van Gogh.” You mumble, and you can hear his throat burst with a chortle of raspy, hoarse laughter. That’s not the first time you’ve called him that, and it certainly won’t be the last — his reaction to the little nickname is always endearing.
Vincent moves out from between your legs, his weight leaving you as he stands up fully. He towers over you, opting to leave his mask on your nightstand for now. He follows behind you, practically glued to your back as the both of you make your way inside of the washroom, and he’s the one who shuts and latches the door — no peeping brother allowed.
Moving toward the bathtub, you start the water, making sure it’s set toward the hotter end. Swatting the curtain aside, your gaze flutters toward Vincent, who’s busy taking his shirt off, tossing the garment onto the floor. It makes you flustered, even if you’ve seen him like this many times before.
As you sit against the edge of the tub, idly bouncing your leg, you barely notice Vincent coming to stand in between your legs, crouching down until he’s nearly eye-level with you. Those familiar hands of his settle themselves atop your thighs, kneading into your supple curves, planting a kiss against your cheek.
“You’re sweet, you know that?” You giggle, unbelievably smitten with him, your skin all warm. There’s a flicker of amusement within Vincent’s adoring stare, and he gently squeezes your legs.
‘And so are you.’ Vincent releases your legs long enough to sign, settling his chin against your thigh, peering at you with his one eye, a darker blue that reminds you of an ocean. ‘You’re my masterpiece.’ There’s a sense of familiarity within those words specifically — it makes your heart soar.
With a stuttered exhale, you can feel your chest tightening with a flurry of mushy emotions, and you realize just how much you love Vincent. It’s more than he believes he’s deserving of, deep down, but he accepts any shred that you give him, he covets it. You lean down to give him a kiss, something sweet and lingering before you lean back to feel the water.
It’s warm enough, prompting you to move to take off your clothes. Vincent watches, completely and utterly mesmerized by you, tossing your clothes into a heap to join his. You aren’t wearing very much, climbing into the bathtub as you wait for him to join you.
Vincent is swift to clamor in after you, ditching the rest of his clothes beside the growing heap, moving into the water until he’s sitting in front of you, drawing the curtains closed. It’s still illuminated enough above the bathtub, the old fan rattling every so often.
You’re adding plenty of soap into the water, making it all bubbly and sudsy, but it all smells like some wild concoction of perfumes. Vincent’s nose wrinkles, but you don’t seem to mind it whatsoever. He nudges your thigh, effectively gaining your attention as you’re pulled away from grabbing the shampoo.
‘May I?’ Vincent points toward your head, offering to wash your hair, and that’s an opportunity you aren’t about to turn down. With a cheeky smile, you hand off the shampoo to him, wading forward before turning yourself around, careful not to slosh any water outside of the tub.
His knees stick out from beneath the water, and Vincent looks amusingly large within the bathtub. He’s quick to hover over you, chest nearly pressed against your back as he globs a handful of some floral shampoo into his palms. Vincent treats your head with plenty of gentleness, perusing his fingers against your scalp, letting it all lather.
Admittedly, it feels fantastic. You probably could’ve fallen asleep this way, but you careen back into his touch instead, a soft exhale escaping you. “Feels good,” You mumble, leaning into his chest with a tender smile. “Thanks.” You sigh, letting him wash your head and your hair to his heart’s content.
Vincent peppers your shoulder with kisses, rinsing your tresses out with handfuls of water, letting it all wash away back into the sudsy basin below. He’s meticulous and sluggish, intentionally dragging it all out, touching you as much as possible. A delightful purr escapes him when you bring one of his hands around, kissing his knuckles.
He adores having you all to himself like this — you aren’t exactly privy to the depths of Vincent’s obsession with you, but it runs so very deep. It’s a festering, volatile obsession, one that will rear its ugly head whenever Bo is around you, intertwined with possessiveness. Every little fiber of your being belongs to him, and he won’t let you go.
Soft giggles escape you as Vincent nestles his face into your neck, having completely cleansed your head of any soap. He’s kept himself busy with one hand, letting it slither between your legs, stroking at the silky expanse of your inner thighs.
Every touch lacks hesitation or shyness as Vincent presses passionate kisses against your throat, his hand wandering wherever he pleases, caressing into your thigh. His closeness is enough to give you butterflies, and you’re falling slack within his hold, reclining into him with a soft sigh.
“It’s your turn,” You murmur, and you can feel the faint traces of a smile embedded into your neck. Vincent moves back just a little bit, letting you spin around so you can wash his hair in return. He’s got some sort of twinkle in his eye, an emotion that you can’t quite place. “So handsome.”
Vincent’s breath hitches slightly, as soon as those sweet utterances go spilling forth from your lips. He’s patient, sitting forward with his hand perched toward his knees, feeling your hands preen throughout his tresses. His posture is relaxed, more than you’ve ever seen him be before, slouching into your embrace.
You lather the glob of shampoo into his hair, rocking up onto your knees, slathering the frothy soap wherever you can reach. There are plenty of smells clashing with one another in the washroom, from floral to something a little more cologne-esque. Vincent’s breathing is steady and shallow, his eye becoming half-lidded.
It’s quiet, but it’s nothing more than a comfortable silence. The serenity you feel within that moment outweighs everything else, and you can feel Vincent keening into your hands — it must feel good. You do a thorough job at washing his hair, gingerly massaging around his scalp.
The water sloshes around you every so often, accompanied by the ambiance of the bathroom fan and Vincent’s throaty breathing. You’ve taken plenty of baths with him before, some of them always ending up on the heated side of things, and the tension is certainly palpable. You want to enjoy the moment, the sweetness of it all.
“Alright, we can rinse it.” You lower your hands, but Vincent is busy gathering some of the suds and soapy heaps from both his foamy tresses and the water, forming some sort of beard upon his face. The bark of laughter you let out makes him snicker, too. “You really are Vincent Van Gogh, now.”
There’s a trace of a grin present behind his soapy beard, and your nose wrinkles in amusement. You sit back, watching him dunk his head underneath the water, cleansing away the soap from both his face and his hair. Once he’s finished, he emerges from below with a soft gasp of air.
You’re both clean and sated, sitting close together in the water, and that’s when Vincent kisses your mouth with a sudden flair of passion. The lightheartedness felt moments earlier seem to be sucked away, replaced with a growing desire that makes your stomach do excitable flips.
Poised against your hip, Vincent’s hand tugs you closer, the other cupping your cheek. The kiss is intoxicating, borderline bruising as you careen inward, draping your arms around his neck, fingers gingerly massaging at the nape of his neck. He makes some sort of noise, a growl building up within the back of his throat.
The entanglement nearly becomes heated, and you’re enticed, eyes fluttering shut as you lean into Vincent, head canting to one side as you deepen the kiss. His fingers tense across your cheekbone, sweeping just underneath your eye as he delivers another barrage of kisses against your mouth.
As much as you want to stay that way, you pull away to breathe, the water jostling around the both of you. Your mouth curls into a vibrant smile, eyes glittering, all dazed and so very much in love with Vincent. His expression is subdued, but even then, you can read him better than most — the feelings are reciprocated.
“We should probably get out,” You whisper, your voice hushed as if the two of you are conspiring. “Don’t wanna get all soggy.” You muse, but before you can start to move, his hands are back on your waist, easing you forward, flush against his chest.
It steals the breath from your lungs, the way he looks at you — one would think you made the earth spin and the sun rise above in the skies. Vincent’s stare is nothing short of completely and utterly adoring, and he hesitates, lips parting slightly as he pushes his forehead into yours.
‘Five more minutes,’ Vincent signs, securing his arms back around you, and before you can open your mouth to speak, to tell him how much you love him, he kisses you again. It’s a searing kiss, burning and bristling with passion, swallowing you whole. The sensations are so raw and so visceral, and it’s almost as if you don’t need to say anything at all.
Eddie has fae blood in him. It's why he survived. He never thought anything of it. It was a story that his mother had told him about when he was younger, and he believed it when he was a kid. She told him about faes in their families and how they could grant one wish and one wish only. He had to say the words in order to grant the wishes. That story was the reason why he loved Dungeons and Dragons, Lord of the Rings. It was the magic of the stories that sent a thrill through his veins. He could feel it pounding away in his blood.
One night, Eddie was lying next to Steve on his couch. It was one of those horrible nights where they both had trouble keeping the nightmares away, even with the comfort of their newly minted friendship. They decided to get drunk and a little bit cross faded with the weed Eddie had brought over. Steve had been a little nervous. He had only drank and smoked weed once before. He had something weird when it happened. Eddie promised not to judge.
"I get jealous of women sometimes," Steve said.
"How's that?" Eddie asked.
"Most of them can get pregnant, I wish I could pregnant," Steve said sadly. "But I am a man."
Steve stroked his belly softly, pouting. Eddie looked over at him, wanting so badly to kiss the pout right off of his lips.
"Is it - I mean - you want to be a woman?" Eddie asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No, no. I still want to be a man. I want to be a pregnant man. I wish men could get pregnant like men born as men also could get pregnant. That would be cool," Steve said.
"Steve Harrington," Eddie said in a cool voice, and Steve looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Your wish is granted," Eddie said, cupping his cheeks.
"I feel funny," Steve said and promptly passed out along with Eddie.
When they woke up the next morning, there was a news story about men passing out all across the world, but since Eddie and Steve were hungover, they hadn't heard about it. Over the next few weeks, things began to develop between the two young men, and eventually, they went from being friends to being lovers. They hadn’t thought anything of it when the condom broke. They were both clean.
"And it's not like I can get you pregnant," Eddie joked, and Steve froze underneath him. "Sorry, Stevie."
When Steve started getting sick, he was afraid the worst was happening. It was side effects from being in the Upside Down coming to kick him in the ass. When the doctor had come in and told him the news, Steve had laughed.
"What?!" Steve exclaimed.
"You're pregnant, Mr. Harrington," the doctor him.
"But - but I'm a guy. . .," Steve trailed off.
"This is a safe space, Mr. Harrington, I want you to know that you can trust me. My brother is in the same situation," the doctor replied and then lowered her voice. "Are you having a sexual relationship with a man?"
"W-what? Why does that matter?" Steve asked.
"How do you think you got pregnant, Mr. Harrington?" The doctor asked. "You had sex with a man. I am going to give you my brother's number if you ever need to talk. I'm an ally, Mr. Harrington and normally I wouldn't ask about someone's sexual orientation, but these are . . .complicated times, and I wanted you to know that you are not alone. I also made sure that no one else saw your blood results. If you ever need anything. . ."
When Eddie came home that evening, Steve was looking pale and staring at a picture of a sonogram.
"I'm pregnant, Eddie, and there are other. . . Other men like me," Steve said.
"Shit. . .fuck, the stories are true. My mom was right," Eddie said, his eyes wide.
A/N: When I was a lot younger, I used to think men were secretly jealous of women because they could get pregnant and men couldn't. I don't know why I thought of this, but I did, I like to imagine that Steve wishes that he could get pregnant. It's probably weird, I know.