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.
💢 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.
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."
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.
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.
Chapter 11 - The Very Nearly Yule Ball
Summary: Y/N comes down with the flu and has to miss the Yule Ball. George happily takes care of her. Fluff-o-rama.
Warnings: one particularly disgusting mention of snot, one curse word
George knocked on Y/N's dorm room door. "Hey, it's me. I'm back with sick person supplies. Can I come in?"
"Come in," moaned Y/N, weakly. George opened the door to find her, under a mountain of blankets, lying limply at the edge of her bed, trash can and tissues next to her and a half eaten sandwich on her bedside table. Placing the box of supplies down, he sat next to Y/N, rubbing her back.
Y/N noticed George was wearing his flannel pajamas. "You should be getting ready for the ball," she said, once again trying to convince him to go.
"Nope. I should be here, taking care of you." He felt her forehead. "Has your fever spiked again?"
The day before The Yule Ball
Y/N woke up with a scratchy throat. Thinking she'd just caught a cold on her recent shopping trip, she began taking copius amounts of Pepperup Potion, along with green tea and lemon, hoping to knock it out of her system before the Yule Ball.
When she woke up the next morning sicker than the day before, she knew it was more than a mere cold. Y/N dragged herself to the infirmary, George by her side.
Madam Pomfrey confirmed Y/N's suspicion. "I'm sorry to say Miss Y/L/N, you have the flu." The healer patted her patient's hand and sighed. "No Ball for you tonight, my dear."
Y/N's heart sank and she looked up at George. "I'm so sorry sweetie," she apologized. "I still want you to go. I know you've been looking forward to it."
"Is your fever making you delusional, darling? George felt her forehead. "First of all, you have nothing to apologize for, and second, there's no way I'm going without you. You're the whole reason I've been so excited about it. If you can't go, neither am I.
While her roommates had the good sense to find other accommodations until she was no longer contagious, George insisted he stay with her 24/7. Any attempts to shoo him away were completely ignored, so Y/N gave up, saving her meager energy for the all-important matter of rolling over to see what it was like breathing out of the other nostril.
"How are you feeling?" George asked.
"Craptastic," she replied, grabbing one of her last few tissues, which her boyfriend promptly replaced with a full box.
"Really? I couldn't tell," he teased. Y/N rolled her eyes, but a small grin appeared on her face, nonetheless.
"I brought you some soup." George continued.
"And some more green tea."
Y/N pushed herself up, crimson velvet appearing when the blankets slipped down. George froze. "Baby? Are you wearing your ball gown?"
Y/N answered by kicking off the rest of the covers, revealing a stunning full length princess gown. The butterflies in George's stomach went crazy. Even in her sickly state, she still took his breath away.
"Not that you aren't beautiful, love, but are you sure you don't want to wear something more comfy?"
"I bought this dress to wear tonight and dammit, I'm going to wea--" a coughing fit took hold of Y/N before she could finish. She leaned over the side of the bed to hack up a glob of snot into the trashcan.
"Oooh, now that was sexy," George commented with a cheeky grin. Y/N flopped back down on the bed. "There's plenty more where that came from," she rasped, waggling her eyebrows. He chuckled and took one of her hands in his, giving it a gentle kiss. Y/N blushed, and he proceeded to kiss her cheek, a risky move to take with the sexiliy ill, but one George was willing to make. He tucked her back in and handed her a bag holding several videotapes. "Pick something for us to watch while I put the kettle on."
Once she ate and was in comfier clothes, Y/N didn't last long, falling asleep halfway through the film. George turned off the movie and let his mind wander as she lay pressed against him, her fevered head resting on his chest.
He wondered how they would've met, if she hadn't chose to spend the year at Hogwarts. He was confident they would have found each other, somehow. People who belong together always do. At least that's what it said in all his mum's romance novels he'd secretly read growing up. And he believed it, now more than ever. Gazing down at her, his heart was full knowing that this, right here, was his future. The two of them together, souls and bodies intertwined, surviving whatever life threw at them.
Y/N shifted a little, sniffling loudly in her sleep. Wrapping his arms tighter around her, he kissed the top of her head. "Sleep well, my little snot goblin," he whispered. "I love you."
*If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know*
A conversation between Warden Gaeric, and the random guy he found in the Icelands and promptly befriended. As he does with many of the strange things that cross his path.
They are just buddies <3
Can also be read Here on Ao3!
"I feel stuck." Is how the conversation starts. Gaeric whittling wood. The thing he found out in the snow and the cold and thought was human, but nobody's quite sure anymore, flopped upside down over a log sorting sticks. Pointed ears twitching in time to the knife.
He glances down at it. Meeting it's glowing eyes. "You are stuck. You don't remember where you came from, or how you got here, so you can't go back."
It twists- a little too fluid in it's movements- to sit up properly. Hands folded in it's lap. "Not like that- i..." Ingo- that's the name it had remembered- struggles with it's words. A fang pokes out as it bites it's lip. "Elsewise. Stuck otherwise. Something isn't... right."
Gaeric raises a brow at it. Pausing in his work. This is a serious conversation, apparently.
"I feel stiff. Wrong."
Well, it isn't very good in the cold, so maybe it's the cold getting to it. "You can go inside if you need."
But it closes it's eyes. Shaking it's head and clicking it's tongue. "Not the cold. I am warm!" It plucks at the extra thick tunic over it's black underlayer. "This keeps me warm." He's pretty sure it's wearing it's strange thin shirt under both of them. Which alongside it's jacket, makes four layers. So it'd be strange if it was cold, even out here.
"But you feel stiff?"
It nods. "Stiff. Stuck. Something is missing." It sighs. "I wish I could remember what..."
"Maybe you just need to do stretches?"
Ingo blinks at him. "Stretches?"
"You know, stretches? They loosen up your body?" Gaeric puts down his whittling proper. Standing and doing a couple stretches he KNOWS Ingo has watched him do.
"Oh! Your funny poses!" It mulls over it's words in it's head a second. "Yoga?"
He can't help but snort at the wording. It really didn't know...? "I don't know what yoga is, but yes. My 'funny poses' as you call them, are stretches! They loosen up my body before a workout!"
It squints at him. Tilting its head as it watches him move. Before standing up with a little grunt, using it's hands on it's knees to push itself to it's feet.
Then, it tries to copy him.
Gaeric laughs, and goes through the motions. Giving tips as it moves.
It becomes a game of follow the leader as he goes through an impromptu routine. Ingo keeping up as well as it can.
"Maybe you should join me in my morning stretches!" Is said as a joke.
But Ingo is delighted by the idea! Nodding excitedly. "Yes! I feel so much better after these stretches! It reminds me of..."
The gleam disappears from it's eyes as it's mouth returns to it's common frown. Memories slipping from it's grasp as they're wont to do. "I don't know."
Ah... Gaeric sighs. But he does his best to smile at Ingo. Patting his shoulder with a hand. "That's alright, buddy. Now we know the stretches help you, yeah? Maybe you'll remember something in time."
Ingo still frowns- maybe he frowns so much from the stiffness he's apparently been feeling? Or it's just the cold. But he nods, and is excited when he suggests "I can show them to Emmet when I see him next!"
Ah yes, Emmet. Another oddity of Ingo is his friendship with the bloodsucking bat Pokemon...
Not that Gaeric can argue, what with his own predisposition to dangerous Pokemon.
... And finding strange things out in the snow. As proven by Ingo.
"I'm sure Emmet would love to hear about the stretches." He agrees. "You're going to see him again soon, aren't you?"
"Yes. And I made a toy for the Sneasel! I think it will like it."
"Is that what you were nicking your hands up carving?"
"My hands are not nicked. They healed fine!"
"You almost cut your finger off, Ingo."
It opens it's mouth to retort, but a gust of wind blows through it. Cutting it off as it shudders and pulls it's black coat closer around itself to stave off the chill.
Ah. It's gotten late, hasn't it? "You should head inside, it'll be no good if you freeze again. And I need to attend to some duties."
Ingo doesn't fight it. A good sign of having learned better. As it nods and ducks into the tent. Hands covered in gloves that don't keep them warm shoved under it's armpits as it goes.
Gaeric watches it go. Calling, "I'll be back soon!" And walking off to check on everyone, tucking the rough-hewn froslass he had been working on into the folds of his tunic.
Just Between Lovers
Ao3 Link (HERE)
A loving touch awakened me.
Tracing a delicate line across my cheek down to the pouty curve beneath my lips that parted for a kiss that never came.
I moaned and cracked open my puffy eyes to see Jamie propped up against one hand and bathed in sunlight that flooded in from the bedroom window, setting his messy hair beautifully aflame.
"Are ye still of the belief that this is all a dream?"
"Shut up," I grumbled, turning my face into the pillow, instantly regretting having ever asked him to stay with me through the night.
I could hear Jamie huff a laugh as he combed his fingers gently through my curls, mindful of the knots that snagged here and there.
"Did you manage to sleep at all, Sassenach?"
I peeked out from the curly disarray clouding around my cheeks. "A little, I think. You?"
I didn't think he did. His eyes looked more tired than mine felt. Bruised with shadows from a restless night.
"Not a wink," he said, smoothing my hair behind my ear. "All yer snoring was keeping me awake."
I thumped his chest even as I felt myself smile. "I don't snore."
“Now, how would ye ken that, Sassenach?" He grinned wide. "Ye sleep so sound, ye wouldna wake, not even to the sound of your own farting. ”
Another thump, harder than the last, had him chuckling and flopping back into bed. "Has anyone ever told you you're an arsehole?"
"Once or twice, a nighean. But now that ye're awake, how about we go and get some breakfast. I already got ye the day off and we can spend it -" he shrugged one broad shoulder. "Talking about all this."
I sank into the mattress. I didn't want to think about puddly nonsense quite yet, much less talk about it so early and put Jamie in even more distress.
"I'm not hungry," I said, trying to delay the inevitable.
He tugged a curl by my ear, springy as a corkscrew. "Ye say that now but the second ye see me wi' food ye'll be on me like a piranha. It's a wonder I'm no' skin and bones by now."
"You think you know me pretty well, don't you?"
He propped himself up again, still in his clothes from last night, all wrinkled and twisted around, and I was sure I was in a similar state if not worse.
"Weel," Jamie said, scratching his stubbly jaw." I have to admit last night has me questioning a great deal about ye, but I canna think a second more on it unless there's food in my belly. So get dressed and I'll take ye somewhere where they serve nothing but bread on bread wi' fat globs of butter. Ye can't beat that."
Nor could I stop Jamie from getting his way it seemed. He wanted to get things sorted now rather than later.
"Well, that does sound better than cereal," I said, feeling my stomach grumble in anticipation despite how I felt.
Jamie looked at me blankly for a moment before shaking with laughter.
"Ye're a verra predictable woman sometimes, Sassenach. Whether ye're mine or . . ."
He didn't finish his sentence and his smile faded into a thin, doleful line.
I started to sit up.
"Jamie . . ." I said, but was stopped when he laid a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze instead of kissing me like I knew he must be wanting to. How I wished he would. I was desperate to comfort him and have him do so for me in that wondrous way that put our hearts at ease.
Always since the beginning.
But that wasn't allowed now.
So he left the bed to grab his clothes and headed out the door for the bathroom, taking the sweet warmth of him away and leaving me alone.
Just like how it had been before I met him.
As promised, Jamie took me to a little cafe down the street from his flat // The Wee Hen // and sat us at a table in the corner by the window, with hot plates of breakfast between us.
But as we picked apart this and that an awkward silence took hold as neither of us knew where to start.
"This is a bit like a first date," I blurted nervously, and promptly stuffed my blushing cheeks with a fat chunk of raspberry filled french toast.
A half longing smile crossed Jamie's face as he leaned over and took a fresh raspberry off my plate. "Aye, let's call it that and play a game of 20 questions. I'll go first."
Being that my mouth was full, I couldn't argue that I should rightly go first so I too stole a sausage from his plate instead.
"I ken ye told me that ye had these -" he made a swirling gesture with his hand, similar to the one I made last night. " - dreams about me and was wondering if that was it. Why ye're here. Did ye just want to bed me and then poof ye'll disappear?"
I nearly choked. I hadn't thought of it quite so bluntly.
"Maybe," I admitted breathily, bravely meeting his inquiring gaze. "I don't know how it works. I was . . . lonely and I thought I made you up. And now here you are so bloody damn real and I'm all mixed up because what if you're not?"
"I'm back to being imaginary again, am I?"
He reached across the table to lightly pinch my wrist. I pinched him back, both of us sharing a smile.
"If I'm being honest I just wanted to know what it would be like to be with you. This stranger who haunted my dreams, who made me feel like I was worth a damn."
When I hadn't for so long with Frank.
Jamie circled his thumb around the faint pink mark that now colored my skin, my pulse giddy beneath.
"There's someone who doesn't treat ye right, isn't there Sassenach?"
I flinched away from his caress and rubbed my hand down my neck. "That's one question too many," I said tensely. "It's my turn now."
He made a gravelly sound from deep inside his throat and took a hefty drink of coffee.
"Did you ever have dreams about me?"
He swallowed and licked his lips. "Not before we met but I have them all the time now. We're either doing the things that make ye squeak - and aye ye do, so dinna argue wi' me - or it's a bunch of foolery like you hitting me wi' a shovel or a wee fairy thing in my hands. Ye were even a selkie once, ye ken. "
"I hit you with a shovel?"
He narrowed his cat-eyes at me looking more feral than ever. "Aye, ye cruel creature and aye, I probably deserved it. Now who's the man treating ye like shite?"
I slumped down into my chair wishing the plumb colored jumper I wore would swallow me up
"He doesn't treat me like shite."
His nostrils flared like a bulls unconvinced.
"What's his name?"
"It doesn't matter what his name is because he's in America where you can't do whatever it is you're thinking of doing, you bloody Scot."
"Ye looked him up?" He said hurtfully, as if doing so was akin to cheating on him. And he certainly made me feel that I had.
I fidgeted with the cuff of my jumper. "I didn't know what else to do. I thought I was going mad. But I didn't even call him in the end."
"What could he have done? He wouldn't have believed me anyway."
"I believe ye," Jamie professed with steady calmness.
"Just barely, I think."
Then hoping to spark some levity to the game, I asked -
"How did we meet? Or you and the other me I mean."
Jamie's demeanor immediately gentled with a sparkle in his eyes.
"Can't say. I dinna want to spoil it for ye."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Weel, I was thinking all night about what ye said, about not being my Claire. But ye are, whether ye come from the other side of the looking glass or not and now that I ken I have competition on yer side I dinna want ye avoiding me if we're to cross paths."
I looked at him dumbstruck, mouth agape.
"You think when or if I get back to where I'm from that I'm destined to meet you?"
"That's how it is in the movies. The girl who falls through time and space doesn't do so for nothing," he said confidently.
Well, he wasn't wrong in his assessment of the situation.
The girl always falls for a reason.
And Jamie Fraser was worth more than a romp between the sheets.
There had to be something more to it.
And that made my heart thrum with whatever that meant.
"This man of yers -" Jamie then said haltingly, shaking me from my thoughts. "Do ye . . . Do ye love him?"
The answer was there pressing against my mouth but I could scarcely gather breath to speak not when I knew it would rip Jamie's heart in two.
And maybe mine too.
But there was no way around it.
" . . . Yes."
Jamie prodded, pouncing on my hesitation.
I looked at him helplessly. "I did tell you I was lonely."
"But not here wi' me?"
"I hardly know you, Jamie."
"That's not what I asked." His gaze on mine intensified. "Ye're the one that dreamt me up, who couldn't keep away, and now here ye are like ye wished it to be. Ye wanted to be wi' me. Still do." He leaned forward on his forearms. "Why else would ye still be here? What more do ye want from me if not just to bed me?"
My heart began to dangerously palpitate.
"I don't know."
"I think ye do."
"Then say it if you know me so well."
His mouth flicked up at one corner but there wasn't an ounce of humor in his eyes. Instead they glowed with burning passion. "I was the first one to say it last time. It's yer turn now, Claire."
I really couldn't breathe now and stood up, nearly knocking my chair to the floor.
"You know what?! Maybe it is all about sex! Maybe I should just fuck you and see what happens!"
Jamie's face went a spectacular shade of red, eyes blown sky wide, with the whole of the cafe staring and snickering loudly at us.
"Jesus H. Christ!"
Out the door, I hid my face against the arm of Jamie's jacket as people whistled behind us.
"God, I could die. I could die here and now and still hear them laughing."
Jamie's big hand slid into mine, lacing our fingers together and squeezed warmth into my chilled palm as the wind threaded through both our curls.
"Dinna fash Sassenach. It could've been worse."
"How exactly?" Came my mortified voice.
He was quiet for a moment.
"At least no one has a video of ye singing Barbie World."
His ears fired red with embarrassment as he tugged me down the street and away from another group of onlookers that I had called attention to us.
"I got verra, verra drunk at my brother-in-law's stag party last year and the bastard sent it to my sister as an early wedding gift. Now she uses it as blackmail whenever she wants something from me," he said with the annoyance of a much aggrieved sibling.
"Is this wicked sister of yours the one I saw in your family picture?"
"Jenny," he answered, ruddy brow furrowing as he glanced down at me. "Ye ken I've never told ye about that. Ye always wondered what it was she had over me."
"Why didn't you? You're not shy about singing in front of me," I said, remembering that ridiculous pizza song he sang that got stuck in my head.
"Och, weel, there's a wee bit more to it than just the singing," he said shyly, rubbing the back of his heated neck.
Before I could ask for details and stat! I noticed we passed by the flat and pulled him to a stop.
"Aren't we going inside?" I asked a bit anxiously.
Still flushed, Jamie looked down between us where our hands were linked, and brushed his thumb softly against the back of my hand. "I ken ye weren't serious about the bedding nor would I force ye into it. There's more to me - to us than that."
"I know there is Jamie."
His eyes narrowed and grayed like the clouds in the sky.
"I don't think ye do, Sassenach? 'Cause if ye understood our love, how my heart beats wi' yers, how ye carry it right beside yer own, ye wouldn't be so torn between me and this other man who doesn't care a damn about ye."
I pulled my hand from his grasp.
"That's not true!"
"Isn't it?" His voice was eerily calm as he tilted his head, eyeing me like I was a puzzle he had just solved. "Maybe ye need me to set things right in that bleeding heart of yers."
"Because you're so perfect?" I witlessly bit back, knowing full well Jamie was the very definition of too good to be true. Yet my words made him wince.
"I'm far from it," he admitted. "I can be bloody pigheaded sometimes and we quarrel over stupid wee things because of it. But I try, Sassenach, every day to be a better man than I was the day before. We both do. We move mountains for each other because we know there's no life worth living wi'out the love we have for one another. Can you honestly tell me that's how it is wi' you and yer man?"
A woeful knot formed in my throat making it hard to breathe, the air growing colder around me. I looked down at my hands fisting my jumper.
"It's just - it's difficult to be with me."
Jamie growled, startling me, and grabbed my shoulders with the surety and gentleness of his hands.
"It's not a sacrifice to be wi' you, Sassenach. It's a blessing. A maddening, surly and curly-heided gift that's had me wondering more than once if I'm the one that's dreamt ye up cause how could a farm lad like me ever be so lucky."
And then, quite suddenly, hot, stinging tears sprang to my eyes and I was in Jamie's arms, grasping me so tight I hardly had breath to cry.
"Shite! I'm sorry, a nighean. I only meant ye deserve to be happy and well loved wi' whoever ye give yer love to."
I shook my head against the rise of his broad chest, gripping his jacket.
"No, you're right, Jamie," I whimpered and lifted my face to his. "You're right."
Yet admitting the truth didn't seem to break my heart in two like it should have (though it did ache terribly) and I realized it was because I had given it to someone else months before.
And then I really started to weep, but my tears were kissed away by Jamie. Tender as the heartbeat that thrummed with a thousand promises of devotion and love against my hands. "Let me take ye upstairs, Sassenach. But dinna fash, I'll leave ye be. "
I wrapped my arms around him, trembling with that undeniable emotion that was bursting from beneath my breasts, desperate to be free.
"No, I'm tired of being alone. I want what you said. I want to give my love to someone who deserves it and will cherish it with everything they have." I smiled through tears. "I want to do the same for you."
And then I kissed him.
With an intensity that speared me from my heart to his like a thunder bolt that drowned out the world around us where rain had begun to fall.
Each droplet hitting me with the stinging bite of a needle.
And then I suddenly felt dizzy and weightless.
Could hear Jamie's frantic voice echo around me as I felt myself being carried away on a tumultuous, guttering wave.
And when I opened my eyes I found myself in the cold, rainy dark.
My face pressed against the hard pavement.
Hello! I really like your writing, and I am very thankful because I read the one where they confort you.. and I really needed it! :) My heart isn’t really repaired, I don’t know if u follow the vtuber world, but my favorite Rushia was fired, it really made me sad.. and i still cry about it. So for everyone, can i request something very fluff and cute? Where S/o learnt a very bad news and cry, she try to hide it but couldn’t :3 with my wives Jean(bae), Eula and Sara (u can add more) thank u :)
Them comforting a crying reader
characters: Jean/Eula/Kujou Sara x gn!reader (seperate)
warnings: english isn't my first language so there might be some mistakes.
a/n: I'm don't really follow the vtuber world that much. I know one or two of the well known ones, but don't really watch them. But I know how it feels when shows get cancelled or end. I'm not trying to say that the both feelings are exactly the same since shows and vtubers are two different things, but that I think that I can at least imagine how you feel. So hopefully this fic is as you envisioned it and can help you at least a little bit.
Anyway, hope you enjoy!
You have been avoiding Jean and everyone else the entire day. Forcing yourself instead to completely focus on work and locking yourself in your office in an attempt to forget the bad news you have gotten earlier that day. But when Jean finally managed to somehow get into the room she found out that instead of working, you were curled up in a corner sobbing uncontrollably.
When you heard the door somehow open, you instantly looked up only to see Jean worriedly staring at you. Before you could even try to cover your face in a last ditch attempt to hide the state you were in, Jean had already embraced you in a tight and caring hug. The two of you sat there in silence for sometime, with you crying into her shoulder until your tears finally stopped.
“What’s going on?”, Jean asked carefully, being scared of accidentally making you shed tears again. When you were finally able to form words again, you told her what had happened, with the Acting Grandmaster listening in almost complete silence, only making a noise every now and then to confirm to you that she was still paying attention.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine again”, she assured you while hugging your head close to her chest. You two remained in that position until you finally felt better.
“Thank you Jean, I really needed to get that off my chest.”
Your day hadn’t been the best up until now. But it was manageable, at least until you got a letter from home, informing you that the pet your family had since your childhood had died. It was then that you decided to make your way home as quickly as possible, leaving Eula and everyone else that had just returned from your expedition to Dragonspine, behind and promptly collapsed into bed. All the tears you had held back until now finally started pouring out. It was in such state that Eula found you when she eventually caught up to you.
When Eula came though the door, the first emotion you could see on her face was irritation, since she probably didn’t understand why you simply vanished. But when she saw your face and realised what was happening, her look instantly softened. Without saying anything she marched up to you and hugged you. She didn’t even ask what your crying was about only asking once you finally calmed down a little bit, if it were okay if she could have a look at the letter you grasped in your hand.
“I’m sorry for your loss”, she said unusually tender-hearted. You still didn’t trust yourself to be able to say something without starting to cry once again and so were able to only nod. It took you some time to calm down, but when you did you broke the hug and looked Eula in the eyes.
“I’ll have my vengeance on you for today, Eula”, you jokingly imitated her. You may take sometime to completely recover emotionally, but with Eula by your side it would certainly be much easier.
No matter how serious a situation was, you always managed to wear a smile on your face. Which meant that Sara must have been surprised to say the least when she found you in your room, with your face in your hands and sobbing loudly.
The sound of your door opening was enough to snap you out of your crying. You tried greeting Sara with your usual smile as to not make her worried about you, but the look of your face and the shakiness of your smile quickly betrayed your performance and it wasn’t long until tears started to roll down your cheeks again.
Sara may have been a good general, but you always knew that her skills with other humans, especially when it came to them being emotional, was rather lacking. And so it didn’t surprise you that she just awkwardly stood there for some time. But eventually she slowly came closer to you and wrapped her arms around your body.
“I’m not really good at handling others emotions, but if there is a way that I can help you to calm down, then please say so”, she stated truthfully, while trying not to say the wrong thing. Over the next few minutes you told her various ways to calm you down.
“Can you try rubbing my back in circles? My mother always used to do it when I was a child”, you asked in between your sobs and Sara followed your instructions like a soldier would follow a generals orders. After some time you finally managed to stop your tears, but when you finally pulled back from the hug you saw how wet her shoulders were.
“I’m sorry that you had to see that”, you apologized shyly while looking down, only for Sara to raise your chin so you were forced to look at her.
“Don’t blame yourself. That’s an order.”
marked up - charles leclerc
summary: you meet him at a club & take him home, but it turns out you both like to be in charge
warnings: 18+ NSFW, lots & lots, read at ur own risk, rough sex
You were surrounded by the loud boom of the DJ and the sweaty bodies of your friends as you all danced together in the club. You had been vacationing in London and met up with a group of guys at the club.
You had taken a liking to one of them, stealing glances across the room and winking whenever he got the opportunity to.
He walked over to you and held out his hand. “I’m Charles,” he said. “Great to meet you.”
You introduced yourself to him and continued talking. You learned about what he does for a living and where he’s from and you shared the same information about yourself with him.
Later in the night, the club began to get packed with more people. You would think that the crowd would die down the later it got, but apparently it’s the opposite.
He leaned in and whispered in your ear. "What do you say we get out of here?"
You nodded, at a loss for words. You’re never at a loss from words after that much alcohol. He grabbed your hand and slowly led you towards the exit of the club, hoping to not cause a stir with your group.
You pass the bouncer and give him a wave as you leave and start to follow the streets of London. You never knew how beautiful this city could truly be. You were unsure in the moment of whether it was the alcohol in your system or the hand you were holding.
You could tell Charles had a bit to drink as well. You continued to hear him speak French under his breath here and there, even though he knew you didn't speak it. You giggled and looked at him which caught his attention. "What's so funny?" He smiled.
You shook your head slowly. "Nothing. You're cute, that's all." You directed your gaze back down to the sidewalk.
He muttered under his breath again, but this time it was definitely English. "I'm not gonna be cute in a couple minutes now," he said quietly, and laughed.
"What was that?" You asked, hoping to get him to repeat himself so you could acknowledge what he said. Instead, he just shook his head and kept walking.
The streets of London were still surprisingly packed at this hour. Friends wandered down streets and alleyways laughing like this was a regular night for them. This certainly felt like a regular night out for you, but you felt safer even despite your state of inebriation.
Charles looked just as in awe of the surroundings as you did. "Is this your first time in London?" He asked. His hand was still tangled with yours when he began to swing your arms back and forth like a child.
"Yes, actually. And it's living up to my expectations for sure." You smiled at him.
"I'm glad it is. I've been here a few times," he stopped and stumbled over his own feet, almost bringing you to the ground with him.
You broke out in laughter and clapped your hands together as he looked at you in shame. You almost felt bad until he began to laugh as well. Charles stood up, dusted himself off, grabbed your hand, and continued walking down the lit street.
He pointed forwards at a hotel entrance with his free hand and led you inside. The bright lights and white decor shocked your eyes before entering the elevator. He pressed the floor button as you descended up to his room. You weren’t sure what to say in this moment and you could only hope that the silence was comforting to him. You looked around the elevator, seeing things move around inside your eyes and trying to focus. Convincing yourself that you're sober is pretty difficult when you're not.
The door opened and you followed him through the carpeted halls. He grabbed a key out from his pocket and swiped it to open the door. "Home sweet home, baby." He gestured to the room as you walked in. As soon as the door closed, you felt a different energy from him. His eyes looked hungry as he looked your body up and down. You took a step backwards, against the door and did the same to him, finishing your glare at his face, focused on his lips.
"You are so sexy," he said, taking a step forward. His hand found your cheek before his lips crashed to yours.
You turned your head slightly, kissing him back. Your free hands went to his hair, pulling on his locks with need. He tasted incredible, even after a long night of drinking. You pulled his head away from your lips and down to your neck as he sucked on your skin. There was definitely going to be marks tomorrow.
His mouth lifted from yours and he spoke breathlessly. "Are you trying to get me to mark you up?"
You smirked. "Would it be the worst thing?"
He was just as devilish as you were. "Absolutely not." He made his way back to your neck. His hands trailed down your body, reaching the hem of your dress. His hand snaked under the hem and went to your backside. "You have an incredible ass," he said between kisses. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt that intense feeling growing in your abdomen. You pushed him back and took a few steps towards the bed before pushing him again onto the soft white comforter.
You straddled his lap. Your dress rolled up your legs and eventually rested around your waist leaving you bare. His hands found your ass again as you kissed him roughly. He pulled your body closer to him and you began to rock back and forth on his lap. "Shit, baby," he said between kisses. "I want you to ride me."
A smile formed across your face. "We don't always get what we want now do we?" You continued the motion on his lap, grinding harder and faster. You knew you were driving him crazy and it was getting to be too much for him to handle. He grabbed you and flipped you around so he was on top.
"I don't want you to think you're the one in control now, baby." He looked down at you with lust. You pulled him in for another kiss, but he resisted. He backed up off of the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt before tossing it to the side.
His lips found your legs as he began kissing up your body and crawling closer to you. His hand dipped into your underwear as he reached your inner thighs.
His fingers began tracing circles around your clit, sending shockwaves through your body. It had been months since anyone touched you like this. You tried to speak but the only thing that came out was a moan. His fingers lit your body up into flames.
"That's right," he said. A finger slowly found its way towards your entrance before slipping inside.
"Fuck," You moaned.
He followed suit. "I love to hear you moan for me baby." He entered another finger inside of you, hitting you in just the right spot. You rolled your eyes back, being shocked again when you felt his mouth on your clit.
You looked down to see his head buried between your thighs, going to work with intensity. "Jesus, Charles," You threw your head back again. He continued to work your body close while your legs wrapped around his back. You arched your back as you could feel something building inside of you. A moan escaped your lips followed by a few expletives.
His fingers worked inside of you and his tongue lapped around your core. He looked up at you, making eye contact while continuing all of these motions. He might be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in this moment.
He quickly sent you over the edge and you tried to recover before you pulled at him to get on the bed. Again, he resisted. "Baby, I'm in charge tonight." He flipped your body around so you were on your stomach. A sweet stinging sensation was felt on your ass as he grabbed your hips and pulled you up on all fours.
You heard the sound of foil ripping and he was soon inside of you. His pace was hard and rough and he felt so good inside of you.
Your arms felt like they were going to give out, so you leaned your head down on the bed as he pounded into you from behind. A low growl escaped his throat as you felt your head being tugged back up by your hair.
"Shit, you feel so good," he said with one hand gripping your ass and the other holding your hair in a makeshift pony tail.
"Fuck," You moaned, your body rocking back and forth before you began to feel that familiar feeling again. "Charles-" A hard smack on your ass stopped your speech but ultimately sent you over the edge.
He continued to work inside of you before his pace quickened and eventually slowed.
Your body fell onto the bed in exhaustion as he walked to the bathroom to clean up.
You woke up the next morning with an arm draped over your side. You turned behind you to see a peaceful Charles still asleep. You didn't want to wake him but your head was spinning. You tried to get out of his grip but he eventually started to stir awake. "Good morning beautiful," he said in a rugged morning voice.
You smiled at him as you pulled the covers up and walked towards the bathroom. You passed the full length mirror, noticing my naked body covered in purple and red marks. Your hair was a mess but somehow your makeup was still intact. You looked towards Charles on the bed and saw him already staring at you with a smirk on his face. "Look at you," he said.
You shook your head and laughed. "I'm going to hop in the shower real quick."
He promptly jumped out of bed. "I'll join you if it's alright?" He asked.
You nodded to him and started the shower, the bathroom filling with steam. He walked into the bathroom behind you and got a closer look at your body. "I think seeing you marked up by me is getting me hard again."
You turned around and looked at him before dropping to your knees. "Well, why don't we do something about that."