#shiv Roy fanfic

[milfp1lled]

Hi! Can you do Shiv Roy x fem!reader angst? Leaving it up to you what about

“I always want you when I’m finally fine”

pairing: Shiv Roy x fem!reader

summary: After you confessed that you loved her, Shiv had all but told you not to call her…ever. So you’re thrown off guard when you get a phone call from her at 3 am.

warnings: 18+ sexual themes,angst, toxic relationships, strong language, alcohol use

word count: 5574

notes: obviously this fic is inspired by the song, listened to an entire mitski playlist as I wrote this so do with that info what you will haha.

You were always a worrier.

Constantly fearing and expecting the worst-case scenario, a request for a simple conversation suddenly had you feeling like you were about to get horrific news and a late-night phone call usually had you spiraling.

So that’s why you’re surprised at yourself when your phone starts ringing at God knows what time, and you immediately stretch your arm out with a groan to quickly press decline. Despite not knowing whom the call was coming from, you roll over onto your side with a silent promise to chase it up in the morning.

You’d been practicing doing that recently: ‘protecting your peace’, is what the overly chipper, new-age psychologist whom you’d recently started paying thousands to “fix” you called it.

Then the vibrating starts up again…you’re not happy.

Muttering expletives under your breath you snatch the phone from your bed stand before raising it up to your ear.

You’d been tossing and turning all night and had just managed to fall asleep but of course, someone had to wake you the moment you had dozed off. You say a silent prayer at the fact that you had tomorrow off from work or else you’d be downing cups of coffee all day to have some kind of semblance to a functioning person.

"Uh-huh?" You hum, eyes half-lidded as you already start to nod off again.

"...hey, uh...I'm outside, can let me into your building?"

The voice is slurred and rambling, but you recognise it all the same, suddenly wide awake as you scramble to your feet, phone pulled away from your ear in disbelief to squint at the name on the display:

'Shiv🥕🔝'

Huh.

"What? Siobhan...It’s 3am"

Not to mention you didn't want to see her.

 …You shouldn’t want to see her was probably closer to describing it.

You peer down from one of your windows and sure enough, she is standing there, arms folded across her chest and that bored look on her face, breath catching in your throat at the mere sight of her. You look for any sign of another party near her, eyebrows furrowing at the fact there is no car black car parked outside one of the neighbouring houses.

Where was the car that had dropped her off?

This was anything but the first time you'd been summoned for a classic Shiv Roy booty call. But usually, it came in the form of a "come over?” or an “I miss you” text when you think she was feeling extra mean. You'd drop everything like the pathetically devoted follower you were, opting instead to spend the rest of the night swallowing the feeling of self-loathing as the two of you would fuck each other into oblivion.

You knew the rules: It was always at some 5-star hotel; never at yours or any of her many homes- that was too personal. You were never supposed to linger after. Shiv Roy was straight to the point, and concise, she didn't do pillow talk.

One time she’d seemed particularly stressed out and you'd tried to ask her if she was okay and in turn, were promptly put in your place and shown the door. You didn’t have access to or get to see that part of Shiv (if she even still existed) anymore.

Safe to say you didn’t bother trying to fill the cold, endless silence after that.

To her credit, she would always call you a taxi, or get one of her drivers to drop you off the moment you were done, and you'd sit silently crying in the car on the way home, clasping the broken pieces of your heart in your hands, trying to hold yourself together until Shiv decided she needed you again.

Waiting for her to call, to touch you and make you whole. To make you mean something.

So naturally, of course, you were shocked to see her outside of where you lived again.

You think back to the only other occasion she’d been at your apartment, your birthday a year ago. She’d come to collect you for one of your “meetings” and had surprised you by coming equipped with your favourite vanilla bean cake from Magnolia Bakery. She seemed unusually light…happy (and definitely a little bit drunk) and even sang you an out-of-tune rendition of happy birthday that made your cheeks hurt from smiling. You’d put your favourite record on and asked her to dance with you in your kitchen and she’d rolled her eyes claiming she didn’t listen to music, you’d laughed at how ridiculous that sounded (she was always such a fucking cliché), but she’d danced with you anyway.

She’d touched you and had seen you, really seen you…but the moment was fleeting, the same cold no nonsense Shiv the moment you left for the hotel. Sometimes you think you’d imagined that day.

You’re surprised she even still remembers your address now.

“Please?” she sighs out softly

You could never say no to her.

Well-trained, you obey, buzzing her in with a sigh of resignation.                                                                    What were you doing?

Moments later, Shiv twirls out of your lift into your condo with a giggle and you realised dreadingly that she's wasted. Not even the standard Shiv level of buzzed that you’d seen her at.

She looked frazzled and her hair was slightly askew, and she had one of those almost fake-looking wide smiles on her face.

“Hey Honey”

Were you having a fever dream? Maybe you’d lost it.

"These are killing me!” She groans taking off her heels and tossing them onto the floor of your foyer behind her-making herself right at home besides the fact this was her second time even being in your loft.

Actually Maybe she’d lost it.

You keep your mouth closed, not quite of what to say.

"I was at Ken’s birthday...and it was...a shit show." She explains stumbling into your apartment.

"But, I was dancing you know..." she uncharacteristically giggles, leaning in to whisper to you conspiratorially, despite there only being two of you in the entire loft.

You could smell the tequila on her breath.

You ignore her but she doesn’t seems to notice,

"In the middle of the dancefloor too”.

Shiv ,unprompted, then proceeds to give you a demonstration, not receptive to the fact that there was no music playing. You have to turn away, unable to stop yourself from cracking a small chuckle at her performance. Drunk or not, you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

"See? Just like how we used to back in our London days...Do you remember the raves and house parties we used to go to?” she exclaims unusually animated. You weren’t us yes to hearing her speak without that usual apathetic Shiv drawl.

You turn to pour yourself a glass of water, anything to keep your hands busy, not even attempting to pick up the bone she just so eagerly threw your way.

Making a forbidden reference to your past and she actually seemed to look back on it fondly? A couple of months ago, before that night, you probably would’ve chased after said bone that’s been thrown your way, practically fawning at her feet.

Was this a trap?

This inkling doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering in your chest though.

"Why are you here Shiv?" You question after a while, eyes narrowing, already knowing you were wasting your time trying to have an effective conversation with someone this drunk.

The heiress smiles sadly before throwing her hands in the air blasély,

"You called me a vampire...they can't be out in the day...can they?"

You try your best not to wince at her words and immediately fail.

"...I went to Kenfest…and not that I was looking or anything, there were so many people…but I noticed you weren't there…”

Sure, you’d received an invite to Kendall’s birthday party. But that wasn’t really your scene anymore.

"I know you Naomi are friends...I thought you’d be there but…but you didn’t go. Why not?” she rambles manically,

“I don’t care or anything, but… Kendall put you on the list s-”

"Is that why you came here at 3am? To lecture me for skipping out on "Kenapalooza?" you interrupt massaging your temples,

She at least has the decency to pretend to look embarrassed.

"I just…I miss you" she stutters, nonchalant as though this was just a standard afternoon, and you were two busy friends who’d just happened to bump into each other.

Missed you.

That dreaded feeling of realisation slowly creeps through your body.

So that’s why she was here.

What this was really about.

Fucking.

Everything was always about fucking with Shiv. Getting fucked over by her family or some other corporate big wig. Fucking you both physically or metaphorically. Fucking with you.

You feel yourself starting to get angry.

“Yeah? I’m not in the mood to be in the same room as you, let alone a quickie so your luck’s all out.”

Shiv balks at the accusation,                                                                                                   “What? Fuck you Y/n, I’m being serious…I mean it.”

You let a laugh in disbelief,

“Oh, you mean it do you Shiv? Fuck me? Fuck you.”

"We don't have that or any kind of relationship with each other anymore...you made that very clear... "

Her jaw sets and she looks away from you, fiery stare instead directed at the pillar in the middle of your living room. You think it had the potential to snap it in half

"Oh, get off your moral high horse-you gave just as good as you got that night... " she laughs, tilting her head to the side even though none of this was really that funny.

Your blood runs cold.

You'd bared your soul to her that night. You told her you loved her, and she’d gotten angry at your confession and had shot down you in classic Roy fashion. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t have time for this. The two of you already had a good thing going but you were weak and now you had ruined it.

She was vicious.

You just weren't good enough. You never would be.

A rat backed into a corner, you’d lashed out at her, desperately hurling insults, and a couple of cruel truths at her to see what stuck. Anything to try and hurt her the way she'd hurt you.

You’d called her a megalomaniac, an emotionally repressed vampire.

"Do you remember? I know I do."

Shiv smiles a twisted grin at the haunted look in your eyes, a deer in the headlights, and smelling blood she zeroes in on your exposed weakness. Anything to get a show of emotion from you.

Sure, Shiv lived up to her name, tongue as sharp as her namesake. But she was a mean drunk and could quickly turn downright fucking cruel after a couple of shots, you knew and had seen that first hand, the fact that she'd been dancing and singing in your kitchen moments ago didn't save you from that.

She licks her lips, a predator ready to sink its teeth into her prey,

"You begged on your knees for me to change my min-"

"Just stop, Shiv. Fuck!" You yell, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and the both of you jump, the latter looking taken aback.

You never yelled. Never.

For just a second there, she looks like the scared, sad little rich girl you’d first befriended at high school and your heart sinks.

Was it worth it?

“I’m sorry.” You murmur placing your head in your hands,

Only 10 minutes into conversation, and you were already cracking under the weight of her words. You really were weak y/n.

You'd known Shiv for years now and were more than familiar with her acerbic tongue but regardless she always knew the right thing to say to push your buttons, even after all this time,

"I don't want to rehash this with you...so just go and be with your fucking husband whom you love so much Siobhan," you mumble, unable to look at her.

This time it’s her turn to wince.

"Fine." Shiv stumbles to her feet again taking an unsteady step towards your door,

“Are you not gonna call your driver to pick you up?” you ask chewing on your bottom lip,

“Why, do you give a fuck now?” she pouts mockingly,

“No, I sent him home for the night…I’m walking…just like I did to get here” Shiv hums matter-of-factly as she attempts to put her shoes back on, failing spectacularly.

She could not be serious.

Your loft was in TRIBECA... Shiv lived on the other side of Manhattan.

You think back to looking for a car that wasn’t there when she’d first arrived at your place.

Okay, so maybe she hadn't taken a car…you knew she wouldn't be caught dead riding the subway...which meant she had in fact walked.

How had she not gotten mugged?    

Daughter of one of the richest men in the world roaming alone in New York?

You couldn’t let her go back out there.

You look over at the redhead and she’s still struggling to do the buckle of her shoes.

It was getting painful to watch.

“Sit down” you sigh, and she shoots you a look,

“No…you don’t want me here.” She replies tersely,

“Just… fucking sit-down Siobhan...please" you sigh, turning around to place a slice of sourdough bread into your sandwich press when she obliges, clumsily sitting herself down at your kitchen island.

If she was going to stick around, you needed her to be soberer than this. 

She drums her fingers on the countertop, those beautiful blue eyes dancing around the room before she begins to spin herself around on the stool she’s sat on, a shit-eating grin spread across her face, your previous exchange of words clearly  already forgotten.

She had to be,at the very least a solid 5 cosmos in.

The sight is jarring in comparison to the full corporate dinner get-up she has on, but you also can’t help but acknowledge it’s the most carefree you’ve seen her look in a while. The redhead usually had that faraway look in her eyes, like she was thinking about 20 different things at once.

She watches you cut her toastie up into squares in silence, and you reach across the table to place the it in front of her.

She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you.

"Eat up." You state simply sliding the plate closer to her,

Shiv peers at the plate in horror, and anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you'd tried to serve her a turd on her plate, before she pushes it away from her like a petulant child, those piercing blue eyes giving you a look that could kill.

She used to love your classic grilled cheeses.

"It's not caviar or a prime cut of wagyu from Le Bernardin but I promise it's not going to kill you." You nudge teasingly, your attempts at negotiation falling on deaf ears as you’re rewarded with a scoff.

Fuck it. You press your lips in a straight line leaning down to be eye level with her, attempting to give her your own take on the classic Shiv Roy death glare.

"I’ll make you something else If you want but if you don’t eat at least something I’m going to kick you out of my apartment and onto your ass Siobhan.”

The heiress blinks a couple of times, nonplussed at being told by you of all people what to do and begrudgingly she eats up, the alcohol clearly making her more compliant than usual.

You let out a discreet breath, glad she didn't call your bluff.                                    

The truth was that you loved Shiv so ardently that even if the circumstances were different, you wouldn’t even dream of doing that.

The last time you'd spoken she'd pretty much gutted you like a fish, letting her in your apartment was literally going against everything your brain and your therapy sessions told you to do, yet here she was.

You’d do anything for her and that was scary.

There was never any logic, or acknowledgment of your boundaries and wants when Shiv was around. That was you; Y/N the people pleaser.

But how could you help it?

Your love for her was so heavy you could feel its weight on your shoulders as you walked, it sat in the back of your mind like a stone, it clouded your lungs as you breathed...and you eventually couldn't take it anymore. You were choking on it.

You'd coughed it all up and Shiv took one look at you, at all that love, and she’d turned her nose up in disgust.  It came down to it and she didn't choose you. You just weren't enough. You never would be.

You used to think about what it would be like to have her here all the time; Shiv in one of your old T-shirts, perched on the countertop cracking one of her sardonic one-liners as you cooked but you scold yourself immediately, waving the thought away with a wave of your hand.

You watch her in silence as she slowly eats, satisfied as you notice her eyes were less bleary, and she was slightly more subdued, her chaotic and abrasive drunkenness seeming to have mellowed out to her just being slightly tipsy. You could relax in the fact that you likely wouldn’t be cleaning her vomit off of your mahogany floors tomorrow morning at the very least.

You rise to your feet, wordlessly turning to head to your room, and she takes the hint and follows you.

It wasn’t like your place had a guest room anyway.

You watch her in silence as she wipes off her makeup then slowly begins to take off her bracelets…then earrings and necklace, pausing when she gets to her watch.

"…It’s been 5 months y/n…were you just...never going to call me again?" She eventually asks hesitantly, voice small.

Oh.

She didn't exactly make it seem like she wanted to hear from you.

What did you say to that?

How were you supposed to lay out a decade and a half of hurt in one sentence?

You shrug, unknowing of the answer yourself.

"We already did it enough as teens and in our 20s, so I just…I didn't feel up to playing 'friends' again with Mrs Roy-Wambsgans..." you stare at your hands so that you don’t have to look at her,

You hear her take in a shuddering breath.

"I'm not trying to be a cunt...but that's the reason why I didn’t. And our last conversation really did a number on me...after we spoke I was just so...."

Shiv nods, swallowing deeply, before turning her back to you, moving her hair to the side.

You take the hint and help her unzip her dress.

"I'm sorry..." she murmurs tears welling in her eyes as she climbs out of it, the soft green fabric falling to the floor, leaving her in her underwear.

"I know..." you breath out in exhaustion, handing her a pair of your satin pajamas.

You were so tired. Tired of hearing sorry. Tired of feeling sorry. Tired of being in love with a woman who didn't want to give you the time of day unless you had something she needed. You were tired of giving. You had nothing more to give.

"Do you remember, the night before my wedding?"

"Please don't do this to me again, Shiv." You beg in anguish,

"What you said..."

"I just said don't."

She opens her mouth again, eyes glistening,

"I begged you not to marry Tom..." you interrupt, hoping hearing the story from your own lips would make it hurt less,

"You said that I could do so much better than him...that he didn't love me as much as you did" continues Shiv

"And maybe that is true... maybe I can do better...maybe he can do better." Shiv's chest shudders and she presses her eyes tightly shut,

"But...most of all you can do better than me."

"you're selfless and compassionate...and I don't know if I can love you in the way that you want the way that you say you lov"-

"But do you?" You croak out, voice breaking,

"Love me, I mean"

Shiv falters,

"Well…what difference does it make..." she sighs dejectedly.

You slowly walk toward her, hand slightly raised like you were approaching a dangerous animal as you look into the shorter woman's eyes.

"Shiv…do you love me?" You whisper again voice catching after each word.

Shiv opens and closes her mouth repeatedly, and you wait for her to say something as she searches for the right words.

…they never come.

She looks at you, that same vague look in her eyes, lifting her hand as though reaching out to touch you but she pauses halfway, opting to put her thumb in between her teeth, biting as though physically retraining herself.

You didn’t really know her anymore, but you still recognised her tells, the puckering of her lips when she was trying to stop herself from saying something, the biting of the tip of her thumb when she was anxious.

You watch taken aback, as her face starts to twist with emotion.

You'd never seen Shiv truly lost for words like that.

She rakes a hand through her hair in exasperation.

"I...fuck" she grunts, retreating from you, as she turns to angrily wipe away a stray tear with the back of her right hand,

"You're good...too good." She sniffs eyes red rimmed,

"I'm....not a good person y/n, I don't want to tarnish you with my...me."

You look at her with a sigh before letting out an empty chuckle, looking upwards as you feel the tears, you'd been holding in start to stream down your cheeks,

Maybe it was too late for that. The damage had already been done.

Shiv suddenly turns around to look at you, eyes hardened with resolve as she quickly stalks across the room, before she straddles your lap, pressing her forehead against yours.

She leans forward, gently leaning in to kiss your tears away in a silent apology and your eyes flutter closed at the sensation, trying to burn the feeling of her touch into your memory.

She places a feverish kiss against your cheek. Then your wrist.

Then another wet kiss against that soft spot below your jaw that she knows drives you crazy and you melt into her as you reward her with a needy moan, goading her on, once again.

You just couldn't help yourself.

"Fuck...Shiv..." you mewl, arms draped around her neck,

"You like that...right?" She whispers, her tone sultry and slow but, but her movements contrastingly hurried.

Why did this feel like a test.

She knew you did.

"only thing sweeter than the sound of those moans you make is how you taste..." she husks,

"We shouldn’t..."

No matter how much you really wanted to.

"Please" she gasps in between trailing kisses down your neck,

"I want to give you everything you deserve...”

“…so much...I really want to try but don't know how."

"You were right about what you said...last time...All I do is take and take and take but it's because I don't know how to give." continues the heiress, voice wobbling.

She was crying.

"Just let me give you this..." she continues in a ragged breath, hand reaching under your top to palm one of your breasts, gently pinching your nipples and you squeeze your tear-filled eyes shut as you can’t help but find yourself arching into her touch.

"Just tell me what you want me to do to you...I just...want to make you feel good" she rasps but it’s off, her voice sounds shaky...desperate,

“This is the only way I know how”.

Sex with Shiv always was always so good, but you always found yourself feeling worse off after. You were greedy. You wanted more. More of Shiv. You wanted all of her-but you'd settle for this, doing anything to have her close.

But the want was eating away at you.

Chipping at you bit by bit until there was nothing.

Sometimes you felt like that'd already happened. Like there was nothing left to you anymore, you were just a black hole and you and your thoughts were just all Shiv.

This was a bad idea.

“I don’t know Shiv…” you sigh suddenly, begrudging pushing her hands away from you, despite the fact that they felt oh-so good on your body.

Shiv pauses, tear stained face frowning at you in confusion, as she tries to figure you out

“O-Okay well…how about…you can just do whatever you want to me?” she suggests frantically, guiding your hands under her shirt, you can feel her trembling slightly beneath your skin,

"Let just leave it.” You sniff,

She jumps out of your lap as though burned.

Sometimes your relationship with Shiv felt like a wound, and she was a vampire; that maybe she couldn’t help it, but the moment she smelt blood she'd feast on you, your affection, your infatuation. She’d always be gone the moment there was nothing more of you to devour. Each time you were left behind, desperately still clinging onto the bloody remains of the love you still had for her despite her shredding them between her teeth.

You'd been periodically drifting in and out of each other’s lives this way for the past 17 years.

First, you were 15, the quiet new girl at Sacred Hearts who'd been plucked out of obscurity to be best friends with Shiv 'the queen' Roy. You remember ducking under the bedsheets at a sleepover with her exchanging kisses and giggling, a private and exciting secret between the two of you…you were her dirty secret, even now it felt like you always would be. Then you were the 20-something London party girls who were joint at the hip: appearing oddly close to others but nothing more than friends who just happened to secretly sleep with each other sometimes.

Then there was whatever this was. 

This Shiv wasn’t really your friend, or even your “lover” anymore, sometimes the term felt too warm to describe what you were doing together. This Shiv was worlds away from the one you once knew; she wore turtlenecks and silk blouses and had a sharp blunt cut bob and the insults to match.

What had happened in the years you’d been away from each other?

Who’d made her this way?

You wanted to hug her. To hold her close to you and huddle under a blanket like you had as kids for as long as she’d let you. You wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to put on the armour anymore, that you were safe, and that she could be vulnerable with you without any ulterior motives.

But now you were asking yourself whether there even was any armour to take off anymore. maybe this was just Shiv now. But then on the occasion there were those odd moments, those slithers of light, where you saw glimpses of the Shiv you once knew again; how she’d often make teasing jokes with that old sparkle in her eyes, the way she giggles, ticklish when your fingers ghost past her waist in bed, the way she’d kiss you sweetly in the moments after…how she looked at you in adoration when you came undone.

You’d realised after that that you loved her anyway. Shiv Roy: jaded rich private school girl, party girl socialite, ruthless Waystar-Royco successor…you loved them all.

But the thing was didn't know if you had it in you to keep on doing this. If your heart could take any more of this.

"So…what, are things just never going to go back to the way they were before then?" Shiv asks evenly, the youngest Roy hunching over herself as she cradles her elbows close to her sides, looking off into the distance-unable to meet your eyes.

Before what? Before she broke your heart? Before you'd kissed for the very first time? Or before you told her you loved her?

You close your eyes a sob wracking through your body, before you shake your head,

"Maybe... we need to cut our losses here...maybe this is wasting our time, and this isn't what either of us needs."

Maybe the problem wasn't other people...but just you and Shiv. The two of you weren't meant to be in each other's lives. No matter how much you loved her it wouldn't be enough.

Shiv was assured, practical, cautious and calculated: almost everything she said  and did had a motive or thought  behind it, even her marriage had logic and purpose and some kind of benefit driving it alongside the fact she loved him.

Shiv worked and strove toward power.

You on the other hand wore your heart on your sleeve when you were upset or emotional you cried openly and unabashedly. You drifted through life trying to find an identity for yourself outside of your rich family…you were always trying to fix things and people that couldn’t or didn’t want to be fixed, trying to worm your way into Shiv’s heart when she didn’t want you to.  

You were a liability.

It was never going to work. She was never going to pick someone like you.

Shiv blanches,

"Okay well...I need you." She grits out tensely, fists tightly balled by her sides. You could see her eyes were watering again.,

She needed you.

 But maybe it wasn’t in the same way you needed her. You wanted her. You wanted her with every fibre of your being.

"I need you." sniffs Shiv, so quiet and wavering you have to strain to hear her, grabbing onto you as though you might disappear,

"But you don't love me" you weep, crumbling at the realisation that she was never going to see you the way you saw her.

Shiv doesn't say anything, but you think that's all you need to hear.

She crawls into your bed, maintaining her silence as she lifts the blanket for you to climb in after her. You slide in beside her, at first back first pressed against hers, but eventually mentally talking yourself into turning to face her.

You inch forward until your noses are touching staring into those expressive steely blue eyes; cold at first glance but always swirling with emotion beneath the surface...she'd become an expert at making sure you could never tell which ones.

You think you’d memorised every inch of her face by now high apple cheeks,those long translucent eyelashes,and the freckles beneath the usual layer of makeup that you never got to see.

She was beautiful and she knew it.

Once when you were kids, you'd stared at her during the entirety of a study group, counting all of the freckles dusted on her face, and when you'd told her afterwards what you were doing she'd rolled her eyes and kissed the thought away from your mind.

You'd do anything to get inside of her mind. To know what she was thinking. Whether you truly ever meant something to her.

"My sweet, Sweet y/n." She whispers, but it a voice in the back of your head tells you it feels mocking, then suddenly you're unable to tell if her voice was dripping with sweetness or condescension.

Sweet, Sweet, stupid Y/N. Willing to risk it all for someone who would never love you back.

She was right in saying you were hers. Your heart did belong to Shiv. But Shiv wasn't yours. She never was, and she never would be.

She cups your face in her hands, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks before she pulls you into a sweet kiss that seems to go on forever and you revel in the feeling of her lips on yours, grasping onto her as though she might disappear until the kiss tastes salty from both of your tears.

It felt like a farewell.

You don't let go of her, wanting to keep the feeling of the soft warmth of her skin against yours, fingertips slowly raking down her arms, starting from her shoulders, taking time to map out each and every beautiful blemish on her skin on the way down. It reminded you that Shiv was in fact still human.

You nick your finger on something sharp and quickly retract your hand hissing as you look down to see the glimmering emerald of a ring sitting on her finger; a reminder of who you really were to Shiv: someone to pass the time with when her husband the man she chose over you, was gone.

She moves her hands out of your reach.

"You just...keep on hurting me" you whisper out dejectedly through your tears.

You felt like you'd never forgive her for coming here and making you experience this all over again. You’d never forgive yourself.

Sure, Shiv was laying in your bed...in your arms but nothing had changed.

She presses her forehead against yours, and you reach a hand up to touch her cheek, to check if she was still there physically, despite the cavern of circumstances separating you from each other, despite the emotional gap she’d intentionally forged between the two of you.

“i know…”

You let out a shaky sigh “I…I don’t know if it’s doing either of us any good to keep seeing each other.”

"I know..." Shiv wobbles out, finally allowing herself to cry freely,

*

You hated her. You loved her. You wished you'd never met her. You didn't quite know how to live your life without her looming presence in it.

With a chaste kiss against your collarbone, she presses her face into the gentle curve of your neck, and you wrap your arms around her to pull her against your chest.

You exhale shudderingly and press your lips to the top of her head, taking a deep breath to inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo one the last time. Eyes snapping closed you mumble a silent mantra into silky strawberry-blonde locks:

Love me, Love me, Love me.

Maybe in another life.

____

You don’t allow yourself to feel surprised as you wake up the next day and Shiv is gone.

This is one occurrence of many that you have been left reeling by the hurricane that was Shiv Roy, but it still hurts just as much as it did the first time as you feel your heart cracking.

[reveriexxgirlly]

you want a piece of me ? (repost)

Shiv Roy x Fem!Reader SMUT

Prompt: I want Shiv to dom and humiliate me, okay ?

Warnings: oral, orgasm denial, voyerism, fingering, squirting

Word Count: 2.0k

                                  ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤　enjoy !　﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

“Oh my god, don’t stop. Please, don't- Fuck!"

I felt a sharp pain on my ass. I looked down and saw Shiv peering at me from between my legs with her glossy lips scowling at me.

“God, can’t you shut up? Do you want us to get caught?”

Shiv used the hand that slapped me to grip the fleshy part of my ass and started digging her nails into my skin.

I almost moaned out loud until I caught myself and quickly clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle my sounds.

“That's better.” Shiv said as she began giving me butterfly kisses on my inner thigh while I was trying to catch my breath.

“I’m sorry. I promise to shut up, just don’t stop. It feels so good.”

I responded with a sense of urgency because it was only a matter of time before everyone, specifically Tom, would begin to wonder where Shiv was.

Shiv smirked at my desperation, pleased that even though she was on her knees eating me out, it was her that was in control.

“Good girl.” That was the last thing she said before moving her head back to my center, taking my clit between her lips, and began sucking on it softly.

I clamped my hand over my mouth again and bit down on my palm hard. Stopping myself from letting out another loud moan. 

How the fuck did I get here? I came to this celebratory event for Waystar as Roman’s date, and now I’m in the women’s bathroom with his sister's face between my legs. Why did I let this happen?

I looked down to admire the sight before me. I was leaning against the wall with one leg holding me upright and the other on Shiv’s shoulder. Her eyes closed in complete bliss, as if she was savoring the taste.

Although her suckling made it hard to stand on a wobbly leg, it wasn't enough to make me cum. It wasn't like we had all the time in the world.

I tried moving my hips against her lips to reach an orgasm faster, but she kept pushing my hips against the wall to keep me still.

“Shiv, I need more.”

“Aw baby, you're not the one calling the shots here. I am.”

“We need to hurry, people are waiting for us. Tom is probably wonderi-”

“Don't say his fucking name.”

She gave me a cold stare. I seemed to have struck a nerve mentioning Tom, given the situation. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up Tom.”

Shiv stared at me as she was thinking, tapping her slender and manicured pointer finger on my thigh. After a few seconds her face lit up. All she needed was a light bulb on top of her head. 

“You know what, you’re right.”

“W- what?”

Shiv placed a final kiss on my clit, making me shiver from her light touch. She got up from between my legs and fixed up my dress. Making sure I looked presentable. Then she grabbed my panties from the ground before leaving the stall we were in and throwing them away in the trash bin. 

I stayed in the stall feeling stunned before desperation hit me once I realized I didn’t cum. I walked out to see Shiv standing in front of the mirror, reapplying her lipstick. 

“We should be getting back. You were right, we were gone for too long.” Shiv said nonchalantly.

“But...” I couldn’t finish my sentence, feeling foolish for what I was going to complain about. I looked down at the ground in shame.

“But what?” Shiv said turning to look at me with a bored expression.

“I didn’t get to cum.” I said quietly, glancing up at her and seeing Shiv pout her lips mockingly before she cupped my face with both hands and forced me to look up at her. 

“Baby, don’t worry. We’ll get to that later.”

Shiv said with a mischievous smirk, that both confused and worried me.

“Come on.”

Shiv said before she taking hand and pulling me out of the bathroom. We were walking through a crowd of wealthy people bickering, when Shiv finally spotted Tom. She let go of my hand and walked toward him.

“Shiv!” Tom said excited to see her as if she just arrived from a long trip when it’s only been 20 minutes.

“Hi honey.”

Shiv leaned up to Tom's face, who wanted to kiss her on the lips, but she avoided it and kissed him on his cheek instead. He was a little embarrassed by this, but considering she was eating me out a few minutes ago, I was grateful.

I cleared my throat before speaking up. 

“Hi Tom, where’s Roman?”

"I think he’s at the bar getting a drink with Logan.”

“Where were you guys?”

I was about to respond when Shiv beat me to it.

“Y/N and I were just in the bathroom talking.”

Tom was nodding at Shiv, then an announcement was made for everyone to take their seats since the speeches were about to begin.

“Shall we.”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

It had been a few minutes since we all took our seats. I sat next to Shiv on my right, and there was a reserved seat for Roman on my left. It’s then I began to wonder where he was.

“What up, cum dumps?”

We all whipped our heads at Roman, walking up to our table, who looked so proud of his vulgarity. While Tom and I stared at him in bewilderment, Shiv rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Hi Roman. Where were you?”

I said as he was taking a seat next to me. He looked at me, and his face lit up like he remembered that I was his date.

“I was talking to ol’ daddy about business, nothing too major.” Roman said, brushing off the situation like it was nothing.

“The better question is where were you? I didn’t see you around the room for like 30 minutes.”

I could feel the tension in the air when he asked that question, but of course, no one but Shiv and I could feel it.

“I went to the bathroom with Shiv.”

“What took you guys so long? Were you flickin’ each other’s clits in there?”

“Roman!”

Shiv scolded him, and Roman pretended to look scared of his sister’s irritation.

“No we were just talking, I didn’t realize how much time was passing us by.”

I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. I didn’t want Roman, out of all people, to catch on to what was going on between me and Shiv.

Before he could question me any further, the party planner spoke into the microphone. I let out a breath of relief, but during his speech I remembered the wetness between my legs, feeling it between my thighs. I hoped it wouldn’t seep into my gown, so I crossed my legs to try to prevent that.

I was squirming in my seat, and Shiv must’ve noticed because she leaned back into her chair and placed her hand on my thigh.

I tensed at the action and straightened my posture. I could see from my peripheral vision that it made Shiv smile.

Luck played a huge part in this situation. We were close to the stage, but behind us were walls from the sides of the room. Tom faced away from me, Shiv, and Roman, who paid no attention to me. Switching his attention from the person speaking on stage to looking at his phone. Not to mention the large white table cloth covering what went on underneath.

Shiv used her fingers to slowly pull my gown up to my hips. The action fed into my anticipation, although I worried that people would happen to catch on to what was going on under the table. 

Once the fabric gathered on my hips, she placed her hand on top of my thigh and lightly gripped the flesh to uncross my legs. I felt the cold breeze of the air conditioning brush against my wet lips, making me feel exposed in front of all these people. That’s when I thought back to when Shiv threw away my panties earlier for this purpose.

She started teasing me by running her fingers through my unshaven pubic hair, which was covered in my slick. I bucked my hips into her hand as a sign to give me more, resulting in a pinch in my inner thigh. I squeaked at the sharp pain but covered it with a cough. 

I turned to look at her, and her attention was on the guest speaker on stage, still smiling at our current situation. She glanced at me, noticing my teary eyes and the pout on my lips, and decided to give in. 

Shiv’s fingers landed on my clit and rubbed slow and tight circles. My pussy was so wet it spread everywhere from my lips to my clit, so she didn’t need extra lubrication. 

It continued until the entertainment for the night started, an interpretive dance which meant that loud music would be blaring throughout the room. So Shiv took the opportunity to slip her middle finger into my dripping hole. 

Unlike her gentle touch on my clit her pace started to get a more aggressive. The wet sounds of her fingers slapping against my pussy were being masked by the orchestra. The louder the music got, the faster and harsher her pace would be. 

There were moments when I wanted to scream, but I made sure to bite my bottom lip extra hard to prevent any sounds from escaping my mouth. I almost failed when Shiv added her ring finger into my pussy. 

It was starting to become too much, and her rough thrusts into my slit were resulting in her palm repeatedly slapping against clit, bringing me closer to an orgasm. 

I squeezed her wrist between my legs to let her know I was close. She seemed to get the hint and started going impossibly faster than before. My orgasm finally hit me, but this time felt different. I felt like I had to pee but I didn’t want to cause a scene so I relaxed as much as I could and let my pussy gush all over her fingers. 

I shivered from the aftershocks of my orgasm. I pushed Shiv's hand away when I started feeling overstimulated, and Shiv got the hint and pulled away. She grabbed her cloth napkin and wiped her hand. I noticed that not only her fingers but her wrist were wet. I looked down and noticed that the bottom hem of the tablecloth was drenched. I had squirted under the table and all over the cloth.

I panicked and pushed my dress down and back into place. I looked around the room to make sure no one witnessed the event that happened under the table. I felt relief when I saw that everyone appeared to be unbothered and slightly bored. I turned my attention back to the stage, and the rest of the ceremony continued as planned. 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

When the event was over, I waited for my Uber on the curb in front of the building where the event was held. Roman offered to give me a ride as long as it was back to his place. I eagerly declined and hoped it would be the last of any invitations from Roman Roy.

“Y/N!” 

I heard someone call my name and turned around and saw Shiv lifting up her dress a bit as she was speed walking towards me.

“Shiv, what’s up?”

“I forgot to give you this.”

She handed me her business card. I was confused until I turned the card over and noticed her personal number written in pen. I started blushing at the thought of our future meet-ups being similar to tonight.

"We should definitely make plans to meet up next week because I think owe you more than one.”

She was pleasantly surprised by my answer and smirked before she leaned in, her lips nearly touching my ear.

“Can’t wait.”

She whispered before she kissed my cheek and again on the other one so it would seem like a normal goodbye gesture to others.

Shiv gave me a final wink before she walked away to her ride back home with Tom. 

I turned back around to wait for my ride and thought further about ways I could return the favor. 

[chaithetics]

Nobody asked for this but HEAR ME OUT... Shiv Roy x f reader that's Good Luck Babe inspired?! Thoughts? It came to me in the shower and now I want to write it!

[horror-sapphic]

Masterlist

- I do not give permission for my works to be copied, translated, republished or reposted without my constent on tumblr or any other platform.

BLOG INFO (Pls read)

VICTORIA NEUMAN MASTERLIST

WANDA MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

SHIV ROY MASTERLIST

….

Old Blog @horrorxxsapphic

[motions1ckness]

hi, I’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but could you please write something angsty with shiv? maybe an argument or a secret relationship exposed or something. Your writing for Roman is amazing btw 💕

^thank you so much! and ty for the request it got me out of my slump (literally thought i was gonna have to take a few more days)

“Loving you is painful enough.”

Summary: A leaked photo of you and Shiv comes out and you’ve had enough of being her secret.

Content: f!reader, secret relationship, so angsty, implied abuse, homophobia, (possible) internalized homophobia, suppressing emotions, cheating, suppressed sexuality, unrequited(?) love, neglecting partner, a crumb of fluff

(there’s sm references to songs and shows i love in this i wonder if anyone will catch a few)

You squeezed Shiv’s hand standing in front of the doors. She smiled back before dropping your hand and detaching from you. This had been going on for months, and her withdrawals consistently added salt to the wound.

Shiv asked you to be her assistant, which helped reduce suspicion. Tom appreciated you. He would always joke that you were her work wife and thanked you for making Shiv less stressed. As the night continued, you two reunited. Roman joined, snickering with his phone in hand.

“What the fuck is this all about?” He showed you two a photo of you walking around New York, hands intertwined and leaning on each other. Fuck.

Assistant or not, it looked like more than a platonic relationship. You felt your face turn red as your heart began racing. You waited for Shiv’s response, she seemed baffled, hesitant to speak.

“Rome are you kidding? Y/n and I aren’t sneaking around, Jesus.” She scoffed. She turned to you, waiting for you to back her.

You felt a lump in your throat as your mouth went dry. “We’re not together, no. Not dating.” You say with a compelling enough smile as you look down at your feet. You didn’t lie. You two weren’t dating.

You loved Shiv, you did. But she’s never expressed it back. The first time you said it was after she spent the night and she made you coffee. She looked so effortlessly pretty. Her hair was naturally wavy, no makeup, and she wore one of your shirts. You blurted out that you loved her, and after a few moments, she gave you a brief smile and began checking her emails.

“It looks like you two are fucking. Dad’s gonna lose his shit when he sees this.” He teases and wanders off.

“Why did you-” She didn’t let you finish. She caught your wrist and tugged you to the terrace with just enough privacy. It was risky being seen alone together but standing in that room would’ve been more harmful.

“Y/n, I know how this looks. I know,” she reassured. You could tell she was attempting to retain herself.

“No Shiv what the fuck was that?” Your voice grew, “You’re like a different person. It’s so- why am I just a secret to you?”

Shiv looked at you with a pained expression, “You know why. Fuck sake, I can’t keep defending myself to you.” She was trying to keep her voice steady.

You did know why. Not just Tom or the fact she was having an affair with her assistant, she would have to come out. Shiv never saw orientation as something significant. None of her siblings dared to talk regarding that. When it got out that Roman was hooking up with his trainer, he never heard the end of it from Logan. Shiv feared her coming out would cause her to seem more weak.

“I just want you to love me, Shiv. I just want to be with you. God, can't you fucking see that? I gave up my job to work for you. I fucking love you and you can’t even stomach saying it back.” Your voice started breaking. You began crying during your rant too.

Shiv stepped back, unable to give you the support you needed. She simply looked at you, her eyes full of sorrow. “I care about you y/n, I do,” you scoffed as you began pacing. She couldn’t say it. “But you’re asking me drop everything for this.” She raised her voice as she began stepping toward you. Grabbing your wrist to stop your pacing.

You paused and met her eyes. She had tears streaming down her face. This was breaking her too. Shiv held onto you tightly.

“It isn’t enough.” You answered truthfully, tearing away from her. “This is exhausting, Shiv. Loving you is exhausting.” Her face sank, and you felt the tears getting more heavy. “I just can't. I-I can’t keep doing this. Not if you can’t actually admit you love me.”

The air grew thicker. Neither of you knew what to say. She remembered Tom saying something similar to her before. She never anticipated going through that again.

“I’m sorry y/n. I’m sorry that I’m not fucking perfect.” She sniffled, flinging her arms out. “But some of us aren’t equipped with fucking support to fall back on. Did you remember all the shit Roman had to deal with?” She crossed her arms to hold herself, “I can’t. I fucking can’t.” She started crying harder, just embracing herself.

Her hair was now messy, her makeup smudged and she got tear stains onto your dress. She merely looked at you, unable to speak from shame and various other emotions. You held her face before wiping her tears and fixing her hair and makeup. Shiv scarcely smiled at your gentleness and remorse for her. She didn't understand how you could still help her after this.

“Y/n I do l-” you cut her off her another hug. You knew what she was trying to say, but you didn’t want her to feel obligated.

“Convince yourself first.” you voiced softly into her hair. You did believe she loved you. Every morning she got you coffee from the spot she wasn’t fond of but knew you liked it. She changed all the soaps in her house to pumpkin because she knows you love that scent. On work days, she quit using heat on her hair because you always tell her you love how it looks natural. You knew she loved you. But she needed to accept that she did first.

She pulled away, remaining silent. She examined you before barely laughing. You couldn’t help but do the same.

Shiv leaned forward, giving you a short kiss. She wanted to convey her love. But she remained aware of her circumstance.

Before returning to the party, she squeezed your hand. “I’m telling Tom it’s over tonight.”

[smallhandsmp3]

paying homage to our ladyboss of multilayered flopping shiv roy the only way i know how

[chaithetics]

The world needs more sapphic Shiv Roy fics and this DELIVERED and DEVOURED!!! Made me smile and giggle so much! Who wouldn't be a simping mess for Shiv fucking Roy?

If you write more Shiv fics (no pressure) I'll absolutely eat them up! This was so well written!🫶🫶🫶

Stay.

[summary: shiv lets you lounge on her bed after an afternoon together, watching her get ready for an event; lots of gay panic and reader being a simping mess]

[gxg, shiv x f!reader]

• • •

It took Siobhan at least a year of hooking up before she even entertained the idea of you staying at her place for even ten minutes after being done in bed. But you persisted, and you would’ve been fine with being kicked on your ass for another year if it meant getting the slightest bit closer to the redhead.

Your patience paid off though, and now each time you went to see her after an ‘I have the place to myself, come over’ text, you’d get your cuddles, your long talks, and sometimes, you’d get a glimpse of her life, that she would willingly show you. Tonight was one of those days, as you laid naked in Shiv’s bed, watching her sit in front of her vanity mirror, in her cute little satin robe.

“Could you not?” Her silky voice brought you out of your haze.

“I’m not even doing anything.” Shiv raised a brow, looking at you through the mirror with that smirk that made you want to get on your knees and kiss her from toe to head. But you kept your cool.

“You’re ogling. It’s annoying.” Her hands kept working on her face, your eyes still on her.

“Well, you’re the one ogling if it’s bothering you. Look at your own pretty face.” You tease and turn on your stomach, cuddling a blanket as your head is still turned to her direction.

“You little shit.” She laughs, and you grin, wanting to make her laugh again, and again, and then one more time. “Don’t you have anything else to do? I have to be sharp for this thing. Get in the right headspace to deal with those fuckers.” You revelled in the way her eyes lingered for one second longer on your half sheet-covered figure even as she said this.

“Not really.” You lied. The truth is that you had a bunch of stuff you could be doing instead of lounging in this woman’s bed. But you wanted to be here, for as long as she’d have you, you would be here.

“Yeah, well, I do, so quit it.”

“Why did you even invite me over if you knew you had this thing? I wouldn’t have come if I knew it was gonna be just a couple hours.” Before you even said it, you knew it was another lie. You would’ve come here if Siobhan wanted just a quick release. You would’ve come here if she wanted just a peck on the lips.

“You would’ve.” Shiv smirked. “Besides, I wanted you. Got a problem with that, Y/N?”

“Whatever. Like I said, I had the day free, anyway.”

“Oh yeah? No standing up your girlfriend for this?” She asked, a little teasingly, her movements as she fixes her hair as sharp as her tongue. You smile.

“Which one are you talking about?”

“Hm, I don’t know. Roman did say you fucked his girlfriend.” Shiv looks amused as she turns on her seat, grabbing a bottle of lotion from the vanity and leaning down to apply it on her legs. Now you’re really ogling.

“I fucked you. Are you my girlfriend?” This makes her laugh. And once again you bask in the pleasure of that sound being caused by you.

“Come here, smartass.” You raise your brows, eyes full of surprise and subtle excitement. “What? Are you scared? I want your opinion on something.”

“Oh, that’s a first.” You lean over the edge of the bed to grab your shirt from the floor, but she stops you.

“Uh uh. That won’t be necessary. Come here.” You stand up, completely bare as you walk up to her. Once again revelling in the way her eyes travel up and down your body, in that subtle way only she can pull off, and probably only you can notice. She pulls you closer by the waist. “Which of these go best with my eyeshadow and a black dress?” She holds up a few lipstick options.

“Hm… I don’t know. This one?” Shiv scoffs, with a grin.

“Please, that one screams whore.”

“Why do you even have it?”

“For situations where it’s acceptable. Like your birthday party.” She looks up at you with that teasing smile, it makes you smile as well, and your knees feel like they might buckle under you.

“Oh, fuck you, Siobhan.”

“What? Don’t you remember this lipstick all over your body after? I think it looked great. But not for tonight.” She puts the options down. “Come here.”

“What, you ass?” Shiv pulls you in again, making you settle on her lap, your thighs on each side of hers. You are so, so aware of the minuscule amount of barrier between you two.

“Put….” She holds your waist with one hand, and with the other she picks out a lighter option of red. “This one on me.”

“I’m sorry, are your hands not working?” You smile, grabbing the lipstick she handed you, once her hand is free she holds the other side of your waist, her touch firm and gentle at the same time.

“Well, I want you in my lap. You might as well do it for me, no?” You roll your eyes, unable to not smile at her words, her expression, her hands caressing from your hips to below your breasts.

“Pucker up, then.” You reach up for her lips, but before you touch them with makeup, you lean in and kiss her, just a soft contact. As you pull away, she puts her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a proper kiss.

It’s hard to keep it going, since you’re both smiling, you pull back with a chuckle. “Do you wanna get ready or not?”

“Yes. Don’t go overboard. Just one layer is fine.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Shut up.” She mutters, trying not to move her lips too much as you put on her lipstick, it’s clear to you that she wants to smile.

“All done.” You put the little tube back on the table and she turns to inspect your work, her hands not once leaving your body.

Shiv hums. “Good.” She moves your hair behind your shoulders. “I’m gonna get dressed….” She says in a lower voice, leaning into your neck, planting little teasing kisses on it. “And you’re gonna be right on that bed when I get back.”

You tilt your head a little to give her better access, sighing softly. “Yeah?”

“Hm mhm. I want you here. Stay.” Shiv says, and you nod. She lightly smacks your ass, making you stand up from her lap. “And don’t get dressed.”

Shiv voice says ‘demand’, but her eyes say ‘plead’. Either way, you’re going to oblige. You’re gonna be here when she gets back. You always are.

• • •

(my first tumblr post 😭 send me requests! I love writing for shiv. let me know your thoughts as well <3)

[salbei-141]

Be honest with me (Roman Roy x reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.1k

warnings: 18+, pure fluff and comfort, mentions of verbal abuse

a/n: Inactivity who? A rare update I know lol. Anyway y’all I’m so in love with him - honestly in love with all the Roy siblings, but Romulus got a special place in my heart <3

I love how late I jump onto writing trends for characters, but in my defence I've had this in the drafts for MONTHS. Anyway, hope you enjoy my loves <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment was silent, it felt too out of character, especially for Roman. The both of you lay in silence on his bed, still in today's clothes.

You move your hand slowly - scared that a sudden movement would cause him to suddenly get up and leave without warning. Tentatively, you inch your fingers onto his own - he said nothing, nor did he move. Gaining more confidence and desperate to comfort him knowing how loud his mind must be right now - you encapsulate his hand within your own. They’re soft and warm - Roman was always warm to touch. You feel his hand squeeze your own back - still no words being said.

You take a deep breath, feeling the need to break the silence finally, but before you can, Roman cuts you off.

“Please don’t,” his voice came out weak - he was usually so quick witted…he just sounded tired.

“Okay,” your voice was soft - a complete dichotomy to the tone he was used to from his father and siblings.

Another 30 minutes went by in complete silence - the both of your steady breaths being the only thing heard. Your hand still lay in his - he hadn't moved an inch unless it was to gently squeeze your hand every so often.

You turn on your side, slipping your hand out of his - he still didn't move. You decided to move closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder and draping your right arm across his chest that rose up and down with each breath he took.

You studied his face - he looked like he wanted to push you off of him, and yet simultaneously he was aching to pull you closer to him. Your touch was the only touch he felt safe feeling - you'd never hurt him, and he never doubted that thought for a second, but he was just so used to being alone and pushing people away.

You were desperate to hear his voice, to understand what was running through his head. You knew he was probably going to say some stupid quip to hide how he really felt, but you'd see straight through him; he knew this and it was the scariest thing to him - that you actually saw him.

"Ro...," you were gentle - a part of him just wanted you to shout at him and tell him he was a waste of space just like his father had - it was all he knew. However, you were just too kind, you actually cared for him, and not in the way his father cared for him - if you could call it that - but in a way that was so genuine and pure that it felt wrong to him, but he craved every second of it.

His gaze moved from the ceiling to your worried face - you looked beautiful he thought, he had always thought you were the most beautiful person he knew. "Yeah," his voice sounded small and tired.

"Are you okay?" the question was stupid, you knew he wasn't, but you wondered if he'd answer you honestly - if for once he'd be vulnerable with you, and truly let you into what was going through his mind.

"What? Pfft yeah I'm fine, real fucking good...just thinking about who has bigger tits - you or Gerri...I think Gerri does," there it was...he couldn't be honest with you for a minute if he tried - he'd rather say some crude shit and hope you'd be weirded out enough like everyone else and just leave him so he could avoid sharing his emotions.

You sat up, leaning on one hand as you stared down at him while he tried to avoid your gaze which was slowly glazing over with unshed tears. "Roman...please I-...can you just be honest with me?" your voice had a slight shake - scared that you were going to push him over the edge and he'd run.

He made eye contact with you, his heart clenching in his chest, no one had made him feel the way you could make him feel, and that scared him. He didn't know what to do - his mind was screaming so many things at him all at once that he couldn't really make a decision, so he stayed silent.

Several minutes passed of you both just holding each other's gaze then he opened his mouth tentatively, "Why do you care about me? Why can't you just call me a freak or a perv and leave?" You watched as his eyes reddened and glazed over as he tried his hardest not to cry in front of you. Had you cracked him? It felt bittersweet that he might finally just be honest with you, but the pain in his eyes was tearing at your heart.

You smiled, giggling softly as you lifted a hand to his cheek and wiped away a singular tear that had managed to fall, watching as he turned his face to meet your caress - he trusted you. "Because I fucking love you Roman".

"But why?" he interrupted you like a child would trying to understand such a foreign concept that you were trying to explain.

"There's no reason - I mean there is, you're...you. I love you Roman." You were so soft with him, it felt alien to him. It broke you that he couldn't fathom the concept of someone genuinely loving him, and in such a pure way too. This love wasn't like the love from his father, nor from his siblings - it was something so foreign that he couldn't understand it, but he liked it...he liked this.

You laid back down beside him, "Come here Ro...please" your eyes had such a soft stare - they were so warm and inviting, he couldn't object to the embrace you were offering him.

Roman inched across the bed over into your arms, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face in your chest, while you wrapped an arm around his back, holding him close to you. You fell into a comfortable silence, holding each other without a care in the world - it was just the both of you.

"I love you too, you know?" he muttered it so quietly that it almost went unheard, but a smile spread across your face at his confession. You knew that he had probably been having an internal argument with himself on whether or not he was actually going to say it to you; without any sarcasm too.

You felt your heart fluttering in your chest and you pulled him closer to you, "Yeah I know". You tilted your head down slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. He went to open his mouth to say some sarky comment, but immediately shut it - he didn't need to feel defensive around you, not now, and not ever.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Clandestine. Part Four.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

Chapter Synopsis - Death puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female Roy!Reader

Warnings - cursing. lots of talk about grief.

Word Count - 3k

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

Series Masterlist. Main Masterlist. Inbox.

You’re floating around in a daze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Why?”

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

“Rome-”

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

“Roman.”

“What?”

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

“The fuck are you talking about?”

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

“I’m in love with Stewy.”

Roman’s silent for a moment, processing.

“Hosseini?”

You can’t help but laugh.

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

He shakes his head, still visibly confused.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

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

“You’re dating him?”

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

“Uh, yeah.”

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

“For how long?”

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

“Two years?”

“Are you mad?”

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

“So you don’t hate me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise. No more secrets.”

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

“So Kendall… walked in on you?”

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

“Oh shit,” he laughs.

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

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

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

“He’s horrible at feelings.”

“Says Mr Communication over here.”

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

“What now?”

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

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

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

He’s free.

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

He’s free.

You all are.

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

“I need to get out.”

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

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

“So you’re gonna… leave?”

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

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

“I am too.”

“Wait… what?”

“I’m doing the same.”

“Roman.”

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

“Jeez. Thanks.”

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

You roll your eyes, kicking him under the table.

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

Your brother chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

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

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

“What about Kendall?”

“What about him?”

“I feel like we’re… abandoning him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, so your brother doubles down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did you get so smart, huh?”

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

“That they do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You sure about this, Rome?”

“One hundred percent.”

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

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

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

“You too. Anything.”

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“Stewy? You home?”

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

“Baby.”

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

“Missed you, Hosseini.”

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Yeah.”

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

“Marry me, Stewy.”

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

“W-what?”

“Marry me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit. Really?”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, back to my original question…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, what?”

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

“But… your money.”

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

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

“Stewy?”

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“Say it again.”

“Mrs Hosseini.”

“And again.”

He kisses you, mumbling against your lips.

“Mrs Hosseini.”

“Mhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

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

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

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient

Pairing ▹ Roman Roy x Fem! Reader

Synopsis ▹ After graduating college, you had a hard time finding anything. You were living paycheck to paycheck, until your old college roommate tried to help out with getting you an interview at her job, Waystar Royco. After a mix up, you find out that you were interviewing for Kendall's little brother, Roman. The more time you spent with him, you realized his whole facade of being the weird noisy arrogant douche was just to cover up really dark issues. But how much of it can you take til it just becomes way too much for you? You had your own stuff to deal with.

Notes ▹ I decided to finally start a series about Roman. There is not enough fan fictions about him. There's going to be talks about past traumas and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I plan on making the character have deep rooted trauma as well, but hiding it a lot better than Roman, not as well though. There will be triggers for past child abuse, implied (c)SA, mentions of EDs and some substance abuse. Regardless of the heavy tones, I hope you have fun reading. This is mostly a therapy writing thing.

.・。.・゜✭・.Playlist ・✫・゜・。.

Chapters ▹ Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20

[shivroy]

hearts roy, roman's daughter, cousin of tom and shiv's son hibs, a tiny woman with adult braces, overplucked eyebrows, masochistic body piercings, her single father's veins, her lonely father's eyes, her rootless father's mouth - pictured IF she had survived past her infancy, which in this hypothetical universe she did not.

hearts, from shiv's perspective, in the "canon universe" of this fic with the mencken presidency having further destroyed america, in which hearts does not live:

[bowieandqueen11]

Kissing Roman Roy Would Include...

Request: oh my god! your kendall roy kissing headcanons were adorable! would it be possible to get some for roman as well? i just know that man is touch starved and definitely had an awkward time kissing the reader early on in their relationship. obviously, you can choose to ignore but thank you!

Awww yes of course you can get some my love this man is 100% touch starved you’re so right <3

LADS OKAY I’M COMING BACK TO SAY THIS IS NEARLY 7K AND MY LONGEST FIC BY FAR LMAOO BABYGIRL CODED anyway comments are much appreciated because I am so tired lol ty ty ily all! :)

Warning: mentions of injuries/ blood, childhood abuse, and some swearing! Also MAJOR spoilers for Season 4!!

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

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

We all really took one look at Roman Roy and went wet pathetic disgusting meow meow man I love you, and I really love and appreciate that for all of us. Because like... if not babygirl, why babygirl coded?

The first time you guys ‘kissed’, you were both around seven years old: on the tennis court, Shiv had sent a ball flying at Roman that had bent his hand backwards, and left quite a nasty gash of blood running down his arm. Instead of comforting the brother she had just bruised for the umpteenth time, the set of Roman crawling down to sit on the grass while cradling his arm just made her furious, and she went storming off towards the kitchen for some chocolate milk to cool down. You had been watching from the doubles side line, dropping your own racket as soon as Roman began to snivel, squeezing his skin back together and wincing as warm blood gushed out onto the grass. You run over to kneel in front of him, the harsh rays of light blushing across your head like a halo as you grab onto his elbow. You press the back of your shirt against it, hoping it will do until a nurse or one of the waiters comes running out with a first aid kit; as you glance up, the furious face of his father comes pacing past the balcony doors, and so you turn Roman’s head to look at you instead, praying that he won’t spot him. It will only make him whine more. It surprises you when he curses curtly instead at the feel of your fingers pressing down hard against his wound, but when you mumble an apology he finally stops scowling down at the ground and looks up: it’s as if he’s seeing you properly for the first time. His eyes light up as you gently lean down and press a kiss against the bloodstains; just the slightest hint of pressure, and tingling warmth of your your lips is enough to send a flourish through his body and make Roman Roy feel nourished. No longer withered, no longer left to rot. Roman gazes up at you: past the dappled sunlight, past the dotted clouds, past the earth and skies and heavens, and past it all he sees you. 

You’re the first and last person he’s ever wanted to kiss. Like craving poison, he knows it will pass through and destroy him if he allows himself to indulge. But by god, if it wouldn’t taste so sweet as it pours down his throat and overwhelms every dilapidated part of his body.

The first time he works up the nerves to kiss you back, is in one of the pool storage huts just past the outer boundaries of his father’s estate. Shiv had finally convinced her father to allow her out into the city to go shopping for some new suits, and Ken had been chained into a business meeting to take notes for Logan, so Roman had been left all alone to wander around the ostentatious shadows and lonely halls of the house he hated to call home. Feeling trapped, like he couldn’t breathe, he wanders towards the ‘safe space’ the two of you had created a couple of years ago: a small nook you and Roman had spent the day nestling out (and nearly breaking his arm shoving unused surfboards and pool cleaning chemical boxes) in the dim, and slightly damp room. Finally feeling at home as he stepped into the mildew-steeped scent cloud that enveloped the square box stuffed full of things his father had wanted out of his sight, his heart is allieved to spot you already there. You don’t even have to look up from your book as he comes dawdling towards you like a puppy afraid it’s about to be kicked. When you open your arm up to him willingly, the true him comes leaping forth: like a darting hummingbird, he comes flying  into your side, nestling his chin on the hard part of your shoulder so he can scan the words lazily past your head. After about half an hour of him gripping onto your shirt, as sweet and softly as infant spring, he glances up towards your face and an overwhelming urge overtakes him. Before he can stop himself, before he can make sense of his decision, before he can chide himself for his weakness, he lifts his head up and presses his lips firmly, if a little harshly, against the side of your cheek. Your book crashes to the floor with a thunderous slap, lifting a small cloud of dust as you raise your fingers to the wet spot in surprise. He immediately shuffles backwards at the noise, before making an awkward, fumbling excuse and running out the door.

He never brings it up again, but whenever you’re round at the Roy residence after that you can feel the intensity of his eyes land on you far more often. He blinks away and scratches the back of his neck nonchalantly whenever you catch him, or sometimes scrunches his nose up and starts biting the edges of his fingernails if he’s really nervous. But the love is there. He just can’t say it yet.

Once, when you were the only person in the house besides Connor and Logan, you were asked by the second-born eldest son to help him find Romie. With a concerned sigh, Connor wanders off to check behind the bathroom door off the living room, his lips forming a tight line as he disappears off down the corridor. Turns out, Logan had found out that Roman had been the one to spill his ice cream cone in the car on the way back from his fencing lesson, and Roman had run off cursing and crying when he heard the roar reverberate out from his father’s office at the news. You know where he is, instinctively. Of course you do: you don’t even need to think as your feet guide you towards his bedroom, and your body shrinks down to scoot under the bed and lie on the pristinely clean floorboards. He’s hiding behind the tendril weeds of his fear, making himself as small a target as possible as he balls himself up, trembling like heavy branches when lanced with frost. From behind his raised elbows that protect his face, he’s sniffling, his feet leaving the ground every few seconds from how harshly they shake. You lie down carefully on your side beside him, so hyperaware of any part of yourself brushing against him, in case the wounded creature decides to bolt. Thankfully, he comes sliding towards you, only stopping when your chest does the job for him; being as physically close as he can get to you, he huddles into your embrace while you stroke back the few curls by his ear. Once you’ve finally managed to choke back your own tears, your lips latch onto the spot of skin by the lobe of his ear, eyes closing and ticking his skin. He warbles against you, shivering, and the kiss just makes him whine more harrowingly against your chest.

Romie’s always around you. Always. He finds it difficult to actually be physically intimate, so it says quite plainly (even if you can’t understand it yet) that you’re the love of his life when he comes barrelling down the front stairs of the veranda and straight into your hug whenever your first foot falls onto the estate. It also means that during family dinners, when he’s finally mastering the skill of slouching back in his wishbone chair and tuning out all the horrible and spiteful things wrapped up in faux sincerity his family are saying about each other, he turns instead to kick your feet under the table. The brush of his ankle against your shoe is soon followed by the heavy pressure of his fingers reaching over onto your lap and entangling with your own. When the two of you are finally excused, you decide not to go back inside straight away. Instead, the two of you go for a dander around some of the verdant fields around the edges of the property: a few green patches here there that are filled with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly blooming rainbows splattered amongst the dirt. You decide to stop and sit for a while on the edge of a cobbled stone wall, laughing as Roman nearly falls off the uneven patch as he settles down beside you. He shrugs you off with a wave of his hand, but he’s smiling as you pluck a daisy from between the blades and tuck it behind his ear. For a while, the two of you just exist: watching the sunset brew violet and lilac gleams across your eyeline, talking shite and poking fun at each other, until Roman shyly takes a break from his rapid talking to blink slowly. He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He climbs into your room later that night, and you nearly hit him with a baseball bat when you come strolling out of your bathroom to see a teenager laying splayed out in a heap on your rug, a few pages of your homework flying over your desk from where he had banged his knee and tripped. With a lopsided grin, he decides to just stay lying there (once you had convinced him that you weren’t going to actually hit him). Sometimes Roman just likes to watch what you’re doing: to observe as an outsider what normality, what contentment should and could feel like. As you sit by your lamp and finish off your english essay for the next morning, you notice with furrowed eyebrows that Roman is moochier than normal tonight: he keeps squirming, rolling about and whining as if he’s debating something in his mind. That’s why when he’s gripping onto the ivy and finally climbing back down into the darkness later that night, you grab onto the collar of his sherpa jacket and heave him up through the air like a flustered bird towards you. After his initial surprise at the feeling of you pounding your lips against his own, he melts into you: clumsily, messily, desperately, but with one hand gripping so hard onto your window frame that he splinters the wood. His top lip refuses to let you go: capturing onto your bottom lip over and over and over again, the sweet taste of cherry flooding your senses as you bite down on the lip forcing its way into your mouth. When he pulls away, he looks so uncharacteristically serious for a moment as he hovers a few inches away from your face. His eyes never break from your lips, as if he he looks away the miracle he’s been graced with might fly away and he’ll be left with the hellish nightmare of his normal reality. But it doesn’t, and so you let him go.

He burns a crimson red and starts muttering incoherently as his feet work their way back down the garden lattice, but he’s got this giddy smile and a spring in his swishing walk the whole way home.

I mean, like, of course Connor invited you on the camping trip. And man, I mean the tension that had been expanding between you and Roman over the last few years was becoming more and more obvious to his brothers, and it pierced Roman’s heart with a stroke of fear when he realised it was to him as well. Connor’s little fishing expedition by the river turned out a little differently than he expected: instead of a placid moment between family, learning and teaching new skills together and bonding over one activity they could all share in, it was more of a ‘watch little gremlin Roman flirt obnoxiously with Y/n and, once again, ignore everyone else’ fest. Kendall sat on the shore, itchy against the reeds of grass and sighing every time he looked down at his watch. Connor was still having fun, though, from where he was wading his brand new, and never worn again wellies into the shallow end of the creek. It was just that every now and then he would have to trip over his fishing line and scoot to the right to avoid large splashes of weedy water landing on him; Roman had decided a much better use of his time was to try and pull up handful of mud and chase you around the river side with it. Your squeals, as you ran around the tamarack trees and peered around the sides like a meerkat, could be heard from the campsite. So, too, could Roman’s hyena laugh as he went laughing around the bend after you, and Connor had to spend half the night ignoring your shared snickers as he apologies to camper after camper. 

I don’t even know how, but somehow the two of you managed to convince Connor that it was a great idea for you and Roman to share a tent. Thanks to Kendall’s pointed warning for the two of you to behave and ‘not embarrass the family name anymore’, you were both surprisingly well behaved during the night. Mainly due to the fact that before you fell asleep, you leant over and left a chaste kiss against Roman’s cold forehead, before turning onto your side facing him and wishing him a goodnight. He wiggled down into his sleeping bag like a little worm as the electricity from your touch spread down like firebolts through his body. That man did not sleep one wink that night. Not one. Instead he rolled onto his left side, and chose to spend his time contemplating you: taking you in. The milky buzz of twilight flooded through the loose zip, the chirp of bouncing crickets on the darkened rocks outside match the intense thudding of his heart. Fumbling his fingers up so they rested underneath the side of his jaw, he made himself comfortable as he observed the way your chest rose and fall: the way your nose crinkled up in disgust when you were in the throes of a weird dream, the way your mouth mushed as you turned more into the stony ground. How much he loved you. How happy he could be if he could just summon the bravery to tell you. How fucked he was. How, if he did, his father would immediately utilise it, weaponize his love against him.

Roman wasn’t stupid, but he was. He didn’t know if he could find a way to escape this cage. Deep in his heart, he knew there was no key to this dog kennel, to this bird cage, to this leash. But he lay there, still, dreaming of freedom.

You get invited along on their family holidays a lot, mainly because Logan spends his whole time on phone calls and not mentally being present so he doesn’t really notice you’re there. If you and Roman aren’t spending the afternoons sitting together on a sun lounger, reading aloud softly to him by the pool side, it’s spent actually in the pool. A freshly seventeen year old Roman had seemed nervous, besides the usual annoyance at having to wear nothing but swimming shorts: shaken all day; when you touch his pinkie finger and grip onto it, silently asking him with your stern expression if you were okay, only the most miniscule of grins could cross his face in response. He still seemed unsettled in the water, besides the fact that Shiv’s foot nearly thwacked him up the face as she and Kendall wrestled each other under the water, both unrelenting in their accusation that the other had lost their splashing match. While you watched on in horrified curiosity, you nearly jumped when you felt Roman softly touch your elbow and lead you away from the affray. You think he’s trying to guide you towards the Jacuzzis as you bob across the water, or perhaps back to his room to escape the antics of his family. Instead, Roman leads you further into the deep end for a moment; after a sharp turn right, you’re surrounded by a small well, a shallow area just out of sight of the main swimming area. The imposing walls loom over your head as you take a perched seat on the brick bench that runs around the semi-circle, and Roman’s breath trembles as he follows suit, sitting maddingly close to you. You open your mouth to ask him what’s going on, but before you can get a squeak out he’s lunged at you, fervently enough to make you nearly bite your tongue. It’s not super romantic, and it’s incredibly clumsy as an inexperienced Roman Roy mashes his lips against your bottom one until he can feel his teeth clash against yours. You can taste a touch of pineapple from the inside of his mouth as he sloppily raises his cupid’s bow, and soon after the tang of chlorine as he falls too far forward and sends you both tumbling backwards into the water. But when you come back up for air, heaving him up by his underarms and staring dumbstruck at him as he pants heavily and tries to look anywhere else, you burst out giggling. Roman’s smile grows brightly enough to blight the sun as he looks incredulously at you, the laughter only stopping short on his lips when he catches the squinting look of his sister watching the two of you from the boundary edge.

It’s the first and last time Roman Roy kisses you for a while, terrified that one of his siblings will go squealing to daddy and he’ll take you away from him. And then, suddenly, the two of you have grown up. Roman’s still stuck to you like glue, but the repression festers away in his stomach until he feels as if some kind of scaly tooth monster is gnawing away at his insides. He feels the leather tighten around his neck whenever he’s standing like an affronted ostrich in that office with his father, his master, his demise, his ghost, him. 

So, Roman starts to try and avoid you whenever he’s at Waystar, worried that the grief that never seems to leave his mind will strangle you if he lets you in. Terrified that his father will die, but also that his father will never die. That this is just another cage. Eventually, after weeks of him turning on his heels with a manic jolt and running out of every board room he spots you in: after months of the child dressed up as a man putting his phone to his ear and having nonsensical phone calls every time he passes you in the corridors, you manage to nab him when he’s walking out of the break room. Even though a stuttering cousin Greg thinks you’re trying to kidnap him when you grab Roman by the collar and start dragging him to the elevator, you refuse to let go until Greg’s waving hand is firmly shut behind the metal sheets. You let go, and he fumbles backwards onto the hand-rail that runs around the small rectangle with a bemused ‘what the actual fuck’, but you just cross your arms and stare at him, refusing to talk first. 

Your austere façade quickly drops, and you’re quick to slam your first into the emergency button on the panel, gripping onto Roman’s sleeve as the elevator lurches to a stop between the twenty-second and twenty-third floors. A kind of acceptance has washed over Roman, some kind of known and familiar claustrophobia from having spent his whole life locked up, his whole life thrown about sets in. He picks at his fingernails as his eyes dart about, wild and brutal and crushing as he looks around for an escape route. It’s only when you put a hand on his shoulder and draw him in for a hug that he breaks down; he squats down so the two of you are resting a few inches off the floor, his face buried just atop of your heart as he shakes and he cries and he allows himself the security to just crumble. To melt down. To kick his feet and hope his father feels the wring of the shackles against his own ankles. He hopes for the first time in his life, as you stroke the back of his head and shush him comfortingly, that they hurt him. 

Something changes between the two of you that day. You’re kinder to each other, and slowly to yourselves. It’s not outspoken, or rushed, or ravenous, but it begins to grow and grow and grow until it’s not only confusion and anguish that lies at the pit of Roman’s rotting core.

It starts with him becoming more comfortable showing affection to you around his family. Like you sitting on Roman’s lap at Shiv’s wedding reception, not listening to the speeches but trying to hide your giggles in Roman’s palms as he’s busy trying to take roses out of the centre piece and pin them through your hair. Or his full weight against you during the professional photos out on the balcony, and not even Shiv flicking her brother or Tom waving his hand at Roman to try and get him to behave could stop him from leaning backwards and planting a kiss underneath your jawline once the man said he was taking the final photograph. The two of you go out into the gardens later that night, trying to escape the ear-hammering loud beats of the D.J., and to try and make an early escape from the growing fight that seemed to be coming between Tom and Shiv’s old work acquaintance. With two beers and slightly tipsy heads, you sit down and talk on the dew-ridden grass, shoulders swaying against the other’s in time with the falling pine leaves. You felt like children again, and against the smouldering clash of fireworks that brandished the sky in bursts of red and gold, you both felt undying as well. He kisses you then, his hand reaching up to brush against the side of your cheek, his bottom lip teasingly tugging at your bottom lip and making you swat him away with a laugh. As you take his hand in your own and press a promise filled kiss against his middle knuckle, he hopes that one day he’ll be able to kiss you at your own wedding.

When you know he’s having a rough day at work, you like to try and sneak into his office and wrap your arm around his stomach, peppering kisses up and down his spine. Although he tries to shake you off like a startled starling at first, when he realises that you also managed to close the blinds on your way in without him noticing, he quickly relinquishes himself onto your barrage of adoration. He becomes all whiny, and soft, and needy, and all the things he’ll never allow himself to be outside of the security blanket of this closed off room. Although he still isn’t comfortable with anything too sexual, you won’t find him complaining as he wrestles you to the sofa. Once you’ve had the wind knocked out of your lungs, and Roman’s satisfied with how fully you’re splayed out on your back before him, he’ll go scuttling over to the end of the sofa and kneel down beside it. With a mischievous glimmer in his eye, he’ll swish his hips from side to side and come crawling up the sides of his body like a wolf slinking towards its dinner. Then he attacks: his tongue heavy and slick as he draws a hickey out just under the pulse point on your neck, pressing him firmly against you if you try to squirm away, chiding you with a warning. When it becomes too much, he lets you grip him up by his tie and walk him backwards until his thighs hit his desk. He jumps up to perch on it, and you stand between his legs as they tighten around you. You’re slow and careful as you loosen the material between your fingers, opening the first button of his shirt, and only the first so he doesn’t become too uncomfortable, with a satisfying loud pop. He whimpers as you lean over to scrape your teeth against the exposed skin, working your way up until your lips are tantalisingly hovering over the stubble on his jaw. He can feel your breath, hot and unsteady as it pants against him, but he still can’t stop the shiver that racks through him as he takes your hand and guides them under his shirt. With your hands firmly planted against his abdomen, you look at him quizzically, worried, but he just keeps his fingers on top of your own and answers you by sweetly pressing his top lip over his own. Just once, he wanted to feel safe, to feel okay with the love of his life touching his body.

The two of you have this game where you try to steal kisses from each other during the most inappropriate and annoying times possible. Oh, Shiv’s trying to talk to you in her kitchen about how her trip to England went? Roman barges in between the two of you, nearly making Shiv chop her thumb off, just so he can interrupt his sister by smirking against your mouth. Kendall wants to run through a presentation the two of them have to give the next morning? You’re grabbing onto Roman’s head as you run through the office, nearly giving him a heart attack as he scrambles backwards and allows you to drop his head back onto the cushion. With a full plant landing on his already pliant lips, Kendall’s left with a fed-up ‘hey’, yet unsurprised look of disappointment on his face as you run off back to your own desk.

When his father called Romie a moron in Prague, the look of desolation that crossed through his teary eyes was enough to make an angel weep. But it broke you even more when he pattered out of the dining area, walking shoulder to shoulder with you, but not saying anything. He was just staring down at his hands as if they were blotted: stained with specks of blood, and he would have to spend another sleepless night scrubbing them out of his skin. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but it was the first time you were there to hear it too, and you weren’t going to let him get comfortable wallowing in that fearful acceptance. You grip onto his shoulder and steer him away from the milling crowd of sheep, stuffing him into a bathroom stall of the east wing of the hotel. Crowded together, Roman’s hamstring bumps against the porcelain as the two of you scoot about until you’re standing facing each other as best as you could. He looks at you, bleary eyed, and you look at him, bleary eyed. He breaks. Choking, gasping, breathless sobs, drowning in his misery. He grabs onto your shirt, clawing into the meat of your shoulders as if he’ll sink if he lets go. He keeps babbling through bubbles of spit about how he just wants to make his father proud, how he wants to be just like him, how he wants to prove that he can rule all this too. How he can never replace him. But he can. He wants it all to burn, but he wants to stand on the ruins and be the one to plant the foundations again. To make a better world, in honour of his father: in honour of the god of war that rages within his head. You press quick kisses on his sweaty forehead whenever you can, doing your best to dodge the quick turns of his head and wiping away the trails of tears with your thumb. All you can do in that moment, as you press your lips against the side of his ear and whisper it to the most intimate, lost parts of himself, is to let him know that you’re proud of him, no matter what happens next. You always have been, and even the ghost of Logan that possess Roman can’t stop that.

The sloppy kisses he gives you the next morning omg. When the two of you are sitting on your bedroom steps, and you’re biting your bottom lip in concentration as you try to do up the buttons of his dress shirt and make him look presentable in front of his family. Like a feral dog, he uses all of his leftover energy trying to nip and bite your fingertips, catching them on his tongue and pursing them against the roof of his mouth whenever he can.

You cannot convince me that Roman isn’t a jealous bitch. Like at Kendall’s fortieth birthday party, when he finally gives up trying to get up into his special little secret treehouse club, and Shiv has left him to go ham on the dance floor instead. You finally manage to convince him into relaxing for a fricking minute, making him join you at the bar. If someone tries to grab your waist, though, or butt into your conversation while the two of you are hyena giggling and seeing who can spurt more beer into the other’s face, Roman will full on goad them into fighting him. I mean, chest puffed out, crazed look in his face, hands up by his side until they send a weak shove in their general direction. It only ends when Roman either: near topples you to press a bracing kiss against your lips, or you dragging him off and having to hold him through the brackets of his arms. In the corner of the room, over by the sheets of warbling fire that seems to be coming from a central room, you stand behind his feet and wrap your arms up his chest. You can feel the fury roll off him, allowing him a moment to blow off the steam, until his head finally falls like putty and begins to synchronise his breathing to yours again after you hold your lips against the nape of his neck.

The kisses when he comes back after being held hostage (I am doing this so out of order apologies) omg??? He clambers sombrely to sit beside you on the deck of the boat, looking so out of place and serious as he leans back against the cushions. His siblings make fun of him, and tease him, and although he realises it’s harmless and he’ll see it as a key bonding moment a couple of years down the line, in the inside the typical Roy storm is brewing. He can’t say anything: just hides behind the jokes and snide comments so the words don’t choke him. You just feel his weight fall against yours little by little, until his hand reaches out and takes your own so tightly you know it’s going to bruise. The muscle in his jaw tightens and he squeezes his eye shut in an enduring pain at the sight of his father’s helicopter coming in to land. So, for that kind second before his life comes crashing back down around him again and he has to revert back, to hide behind the brick wall again, you take him over to the railings. It’s just the two of you, the warm sea salt stinging against your grimacing faces, and the ungodly sight of a near-naked Cousin Greg lying stretched out beside the slide below you. After a few goes, you manage to unlatch his claws from the white metal and replace them with your soothing palm, rubbing semi-circles against the back of his hand. You’re here. You’re here, with him. You’re not going to let him go it alone again, if he wants.

And he does. He could cry, he so desperately does. Some of the tension falls from his shoulders as he raises your joint hands to his lips and kisses them, gracing over every inch of skin his mouth can latch onto. 

You both know, in that moment, that it’s enough. It’s a promise. You’ll stick together, no matter what. You’ll love each other through everything, no matter what. You’ll stay around, no matter what or who he becomes.

Which brings me to... kissing him when you find out about the passing of his father. Standing on that boat, on the most joyous of occasions, feeling as if the whole world is shattering around you. Feeling miserable at the knowledge that deep down, some part of you is overjoyed by the news. Feeling even more downtrodden to realise, as the streaky eyes and thousand-stare faces of the Roy siblings flash back and forth in your line of sight as they pass the phone to each other, that Logan will never really be gone. They’re talking to his lifeless, empty shell through the speakers, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here in this room. He’s staring through their eyes. Talking in their quivering, harsh voices. Pounding through their feet. Tearing them apart as they try to cling onto each other. In their accusations that burst through their mouths innately. In the ordered instructions hurled out to keep business running smoothly. Hidden between the cracks of their voices as they sharpen their words and seethe them out between clenched teeth when the slightest chance of Logan even being dead is raised. He’s here, right now, as you let go of the death grip Kendall and Shiv have on both of your hands and catch sight of Roman rocking backwards and forth on the floor.

Giving a final squeeze of apology to Connor’s arm, you take Roman out of the room before he combusts. The whole air seems to be chilled: still, like something’s lurking unspoken between the threads of air. Like you’re leading Roman through the cold remains of a morgue. He wanders around for a minute, not even hearing the click of the door as you close it behind you. Not even crying. Not even speaking. For the first time in his life, he looks so much like his father. Too much. It scares you. Until eventually he just closes his eyes and trods over to the wall, thumping his forehead down on the cool metal until it burns. He holds his hand out to you, cufflinks gleaming like the edge of a knife past the ceiling lights, as if he’s offering a contract out to you. Apprehensively, your tentative hand creeps out and places itself gingerly on top of his own. He takes it, his dry lips latching onto you until the bridge of his nose is resting now upon your hand. The deal is done.

When you get back to your apartment though, and Romie finds out that Matsson wants him to fly out and meet him in Norway... that’s when Roman gets weird. Devastated. Freaks out. Grieves. You come out from your shower, wearing one of his suit shirts as your pyjama top, and he doesn’t even give a whistle of appreciation. Instead he’s crumpled on the floor by the canopy of your bed, cradling his knees to his chest, swearing into his kneecaps furiously. But you - you, oh god, you’re the only thing that can stop him from being swallowed up by Logan’s fury. You tilt his chin up during a tangled rush of expletives I don’t dare to copy down here, a scowl setting itself into his face like stone. It begins to soften when he realises you’re touching him, when he can feel the scrape of your nail around his jugular. You do your best to warble an unconvincing smile as you turn his head to the side, so you can better wipe your bottom lip against the edge of his throbbing mouth. You mould yourself to him, working at his pace as he winces at first, before slowly falling more and more easily into your grip. His hands loosen from his arms and fall onto your triceps as he deliriously tries to come back to himself through searching through the velvety warmness of your mouth: by swiping against your tongue and choking back his grievances as you pant into his open, waiting mouth.

You wake him up the next day with a fond kiss against the tip of his nose, and for the first time in a long while he smiles before he wakes fully up. The morning light cradles his bleary face as he sleepily runs a few fingers over the edge of your cheek, before cradling himself into your side again. He feels safe, weary, anguished, loved enough to fall asleep again, after pressing a few gentle licks behind your earlobes to try and hear you laugh again. Even through it all, his main concern is you. 

You trace his features while he restlessly dreams, although he squirms from time to time and alludes you to the fact that he’s secretly awake. A kiss here, between the junctions of wrinkles on his furrowed forehead. A kiss there, on the patchy stubble just underneath his left ear. A few there on the dark circles underneath his eyes, until you’re balancing over him and holding yourself up by the hands splayed over his pillow. He just needs to be reminded he’s beautiful from time to time. That he’s perfect. That he doesn’t need to try and be someone else. To encapsulate his father. 

But also like, Roman fucking hates Matsson. The way he looks at you during the whole field trip, like a hunter about to swallow its prey whole. Although the continuous comments about his family, and the two new Co-Ceo’s, and the legacy of his father make him burn down to the pit of his stomach with a white hot fury, he can deal with them if he would just leave you the fuck alone. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone but him looking at his soulmate with such adoration and lust in their eyes, so if that overgrown yeti gives you the up and down check out one more time he might actually just deck him in the middle of the retreat. He bites down on his tongue so harshly that his taste buds begin to bubble and prickle with blood, deciding it best to storm off and collect his thoughts before he lashes out and does something he can’t take back. You finally manage to track him down a little way off the beaten track, winding your way over some cobbled steps to find a branched alcove with nothing but a bench and a breath taking view of the gushing river down below. He’s hunched over with his fingers knotted over his knees, his lips so tightly drawn together that at first you don’t even spot the droplets of blood until he turns with a raised eye to look at you.

He knows it’s not your fault, so there’s no convincing or apologies when you join him. Just Roman finally getting all of that pent up sorrow and distress out. After an awkward moment of bouncing your foot up and down, you decide your best course of action is to just open your arm up to him again, like you used to do when you were children. At first he raises a confused eyebrow, before the realisation dawns over his face, and his features crumble. His lips purse, his throat bobbing as he heaves the tears back down, but he can’t stop his lips from trembling as he falls into your side. That kiss was the sweetest, as he leans his chin familiarly against your shoulder and bumps noses with your own. He frowns, sobbing at the knowledge that he can kiss you, finally, in the way he’s been yearning for all his life, and yet it all feels so wrong. So upside down. So far away from what he had dreaming. The freedom feels like a tether, and yet he juts his chin out and latches placidly onto your bottom lip anyway, the tears trickling down and falling between your mouths. 

It’s an act of defiance. A key sliding into the lock. He still can’t say it, but he won’t allow himself to smother the feeling anymore. The first sip of poison gliding down his throat, and Roman prays as he presses his forehead tearfully against your own, that it would kill the Logan part of him first.

[happy74827]

Only You

[Kendall Roy x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Kendall never had anyone that he could truly rely on. But now, he has you, and that's all that matters {GIF Creds: Honestly i couldn't find who made it… just know that I didn't}.

WC: 753

Category: Lime/Spice, Slight Angst

I just finished Succession tonight and my heart literally hurts so much for Kendall, so I had to write this to ease my mind.

『••✎••』

“Kenny…” You sigh into his neck, his teeth nipping at your ear.

His hands travel from your thighs to the dip of your back and up, pulling the thin fabric of your dress over your head and off, tossing it onto the floor.

He grins, kissing down your jaw to the swell of your breasts. You can feel him, hard and thick through his jeans, pressed against you, and you need him. Need to feel him inside you. Need to feel his skin against yours.

Your breath is shallow and hot.

Kendall kisses the hollow of your throat, your pulse hammering against his lips. He takes your chin in his hand and makes you look at him. You stare into his eyes, deep and brown, the color of the earth. He stares right back, and you can feel his heartbeat, fast and in time with yours.

You lean in, pressing your lips to his. He kisses you back, softly at first, but then, hungry, devouring, as if he were a starving man.

You unbutton his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and push him down on the bed. He pulls you on top of him, and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. His hands are warm as they caress your body, sending tingles up and down your spine.

He needed this; you knew it, just like you needed it. It was only a matter of time before he broke down before he let you back in. He needed someone to be there for him—someone who loved him unconditionally and would stand by him no matter what.

His touch was gentle and loving. The way he held you, kissed you. It was almost as if he didn't want to let you go. As if he was afraid of losing you.

Your heart ached for him. Ached for the man who was lost and alone, the man who had no one else. Nothing else.

With all the hot garbage and corruption within Waystar, Kendall could always rely on you. You were his constant. His anchor.

He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was scared. He was scared and alone, and he needed someone.

Roman couldn’t give him that. Shiv could barely stand to look at him. His mother? Well, she wasn't the type.

And then there was you. You had been by his side, supporting him for as long as he could remember.

He didn't know when he had started to notice you, started to love you. But he had. Rava couldn't fill the void in his heart. No woman could. But you could.

You had been there for him every step of the way, no matter what. When the shit hit the fan, when his father cut him out, when his family betrayed him, you were there. You were his light in the darkness.

The night that Kendall told the world his father was at fault for the cruise ship disaster, the full turnaround he did on the presser and the aftermath had been hell. Logan had thrown a tantrum, screaming and shouting and threatening to cut him off completely.

For a little while, it seemed like he would, too.

But you had been there for him.

Kendall had broken down, sobbing, after it was all over. When the weight of it all had finally hit him, he had felt guilty and ashamed.

You had sat with him, comforting him. You hadn’t judged him. You hadn’t told him it was his fault, that he was wrong. You had simply listened.

And that had meant the world to him.

When he had finished crying, when his sobs had subsided, he had kissed you.

He hadn't planned to. But the look in your eyes, the concern, the compassion, the love, he couldn't help himself. It was a soft kiss. Tender. Loving. He had cupped your face in his hands, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

After that night, everything had changed.

You had become the only thing he could count on.

You were always there for him, no matter what.

Now, as you lay together, the sheets twisted around your bodies, your bare skin touching his, he knew.

He knew the person who would always have his back, who would never leave him, was you.

And that was why he had given you his heart.

Kendall didn't need anyone or anything else.

He only needed you.

Just you and only you.

[muttsupreme]

LIPSTICK ON ROMAAAAANNNNNNNNN

him w this hair in s1……ROMAAAANNNN!!!!! bring back ur s1 hair and my life is yours..

I’ve written so many drafts previously (um obviously not here but privately) about Roman using your lipstick/lipgloss and most frequently, your chapstick.

It starts with him wanting to smell like you; vanilla lip masks that look way too sticky but he tries a little on his fingertip and rubs it on very lightly after you leave your desk. Shiv’s face scrunches up when she sees him with a glossy lip for the first time since she let him borrow her Polly Pocket makeup kit when they were kids (her mom got it for her before it was even released, and assumed she’d be so excited; she was not).

Shiv will make some snide quip, privately for once.

“Uhh, did you…just come back from Sephora, or…?”

“What?” He immediately goes on high-alert, higher defense, and realizes that it must be glossy, the fucking lip mask bullshit that smells like warm vanilla and cookies and tastes like pure sugar when he stupidly licks his lips without thinking (or maybe to hope, y’know, that your spit is in it, so it’s indirect kissing). “Oh - fuck you, do you want chapped, dry, disgusting lips? Because some of us don’t want to look like ogres, Fiona.”

“Hey, I was just asking,” she says in a higher pitch with a dismissive chuckle. She doesn’t mention it again; she recognized the smell, who that smell usually follows. Roman’s wary of her from then on, for weeks.

Next time, he’s going through your bag that you refuse to unpack, because it’s only a weekend trip and then you’re going somewhere else immediately after. Why unpack when you’re gonna repack the next day?

He sees stuff, tons of stuff. Sniffs sweaters when you turn around. He’s got your blanket pulled out already, draped across the bed and him, laying on his side looking at you as you get ready for bed in the ensuite bathroom, door open so he can continue making fun of your regiment and the things you’ve packed.

From your purse nearby, or your makeup bag, he picks up a lipstick (I imagine Diorelita). It opens with a quiet ‘pop’ that you recognize and turn around to see him looking attentively at the color.

“Think it suits me?”

“Mmh, maybe. Wanna see?” You reply with a grin, watching him get a little shy on you.

“C’mere,” you encourage him, sitting on his lap as he leans against the headboard, your lipstick in hand. “Lemme make you pretty.”

He lets you, and you’re shocked he’s staying so still. When you’re done, you snarkily - but entirely jokingly - say, “Now what do we say?”

“Fuck you? Thank you, for…making me pretty,” and he does, he’s very, very pretty with that color on, and you did very well gliding it on evenly. He leans up to kiss you just as you lean down to kiss him; the lipstick smears onto your lips.

“Roro - your lipstick’s getting on me,” you try to rub it off, unsexily. You don’t really have to be sexy around him, it’s one of your favorite things.

“Um, it’s your lipstick, I’m just…temporarily borrowing it,” he huffs defensively. His heart literally does fucking cartwheels when you call him that stupid, almost maternal nickname. “Just come here - shut the fuck up, stop complaining. I’d lick the lipstick off you if you’d just get a little - closer.”

“Aw, romantic boy,” you coo, kissing him sweetly and feeling his tongue stick out, lapping at your lips, making good on his promise like a little puppy. When you’re almost positive he must be done, you pull away, but he’s not having it.

“Whoa - slow your fucking roll, you’re not going anywhere, you look…you look like a clown, lipstick’s still all over everywhere,” he says, trying to get you to come back instead of going back to the bathroom. You’re pretty sure, not positive but willing to bet, that he’s lying and you have no lipstick left anywhere on your face.

“I’ll come back,” you reassure with a whisper; you hate to leave him alone when he’s being so sweet, with such pretty makeup on. “Aww, pretty baby,” you can’t stop yourself from cooing at the unintentionally pouty look on his face, one he’d be humiliated by if he saw. You give him a chaste peck.

“Jesus, give me a second to brush my teeth and pee and I’ll be back. Promise.”

“Yeah, but then you won’t taste like you, you’ll taste like…mint and tap water,” he complains. There’s no pleasing him, other than you being beside him at all times.

Okay whatever that’s just two of my many one billion ideas of Romulus and his obsession with…….indirectly kissing you, being pretty for you, being close to you, and um, your lips in general. I could and might write another little thought-post about his obsession with your lips and stuff, who knows. I’m feeling romantical (‘roman’ being the main part of the word).

[chaithetics]

Furtive Hands

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) reader

Word count: 7.3K

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, established/secret relationship, smut, fingering, P in V intercourse, some fluff, soft but also kind of dom-ish Stewy? Vague-ish mentions of canonical childhood abuse/trauma, and toxic family dynamics, Logan makes a cameo at the start (deserves its own warning), Logan's death and grief mentioned also Roman being a bit of a douche. I think that's it?

(Reader is technically a Roy because that's how the plot/idea worked but I avoided physical descriptions other than reader having AFAB physical characteristics. You're more than welcome to canon this reader as being adopted or half-siblings with the other Roys. I try to avoid giving physical characteristics and am tempted to continue to code all my readers as readers of colour out of spite due to the lack of intersectionality in fics. My reader in A Cinematic Lover has no physical characteristics other than being chronically ill but is Desi coded.)

Author's Note: I didn't proofread all of it, whoops. This is also my first time writing Stewy and I'm not too sure how I feel about this fic. I don't feel super confident in saying that "I captured his voice" etc. But I adore Stewy Hosseini and Arian Moayed and we need more Stewy fics. Please let me know your thoughts! I'd really appreciate the feedback :)

Like being in the Roy family, being the youngest in the clan had its perks and downfalls. You’d been able to get away most of your life with your father’s wrath directed towards your older siblings but at a certain point when they’d reached adulthood before you and it was quickly redirected towards you. You and your older brother Connor were the only ones to stay out of the family business, Connor was technically more involved than you which said a lot to anyone familiar with the family’s affairs. 

Despite being the youngest it would be fair to say you were the most emotionally mature of your siblings (although you could easily admit that’s a very low bar) and the most well-adjusted (again, another relatively low bar). You were a practising clinical psychologist who had of course undergone a bunch of therapy yourself for your childhood trauma. You’d wrapped up a session and were walking a patient out before heading back into your office for your office lunch date when you were interrupted by a booming presence. 

“Dad?” You immediately questioned. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here-” 

“I thought I’d stop by. See the new office-”

“I’ve had this office for 3 years.” You interjected. 

Logan quirked an eyebrow at that, he seemed almost amused at your assertive call out. You had been a louder child like Roman but unlike your brother, you became quieter as a teenager. You knew your father had assumed that was because you didn’t have whatever “deficiency” he believed Roman had and that you’d grown out of it. The reality was, that it was a trauma response and you’d learnt that life was easier with him if you were quiet and made your presence as sparse as possible. 

He’d always found playing his games with you particularly interesting due to this, you weren’t as quiet now as you were as a teenager and you weren’t as loud as you were as a child, somewhere in the middle. You could slink off at the few family gatherings you intended to not be questioned or dragged into shop talk. But you still had a known presence and you were the only one of his children who could somewhat confidently cut him off and respond to him with what he’d deem as some sense of calmness. You weren’t as pliant to him as your siblings which made his mind games all the more intriguing to him. 

“Right. Well, it’s a nice enough place.” 

“Thanks.” You bit your lip as you waited for your father to continue, he didn’t show up for no reason. 

You were trying to project a calm facade you were starting to worry for a myriad of reasons. With what was going on with your family this wouldn’t be any pure coincidence. You weren’t the most involved in the family business but you were well aware and received updates from Kendall. But there was also concern over the potential sighting of your lunchtime visitor. 

“Well dear, I need you to do something for me.” You tilted your head and your brow furrowed at his words. 

“Since when do you need favours? Specifically favours from clinical psychologists?” You questioned. 

“It’s to do with your siblings.” Logan spoke flatly as he then sat himself down on one of the armchairs in your waiting room. He was mildly irritated that you hadn’t invited him into your office and that you’d kept that room off limits for him, blocking the doorway to it. 

You scoffed at his words and rolled your eyes, one thing was for sure, whatever this was, it wasn’t good. 

“Continue.” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed at you slightly as he watched you as if it was the first time he was seeing you. He was used to you being uninterested and not the way that Shiv tried to play everything cool with Logan. You were genuinely uninterested, your eyes looked cold.

You had a colder approach with your father in comparison to your siblings, it was healthier and the easiest for you to maintain without being sucked in like they were. It wasn’t a big surprise to anyone that you weren’t impressed with the confrontations that happened in your presence, your siblings had weird concepts and responses of support. But there were the built-in responses as you’d gotten older, Kendall defended and you comforted. 

Logan hadn’t always given you a great deal of attention in those moments but he was familiar with your mannerisms as he’d call them now. But today you seemed annoyed, this wasn’t an emotion that Logan felt like he’d seen from his youngest in almost a lifetime. He  found it to almost be the most interesting he’d ever found you, he mused that you must know or be hiding something. 

“Well, you grew up with Kendall, Roman and Siobhan. You understandably know them well and you have a unique skillset with your area of expertise.” He paused for a moment watching your face as he said that before continuing. 

“And?” 

“You would’ve made observations of their behaviours over the years. Symptoms-behaviours- whatever the fuck you want to call it. You have the power to diagnose.” You looked at him and the cooler facade you normally actively projected with him was starting to fade into one of horror. “I’d like you to write a piece on that, about your siblings. Their credibility, illnesses. A media circuit perhaps as well. You’re a credible and telling source.” 

You stared at your father in silence, you didn’t know what to say to him. This was awful, even for him. 

“So?” He broke the silence, his eyes were deadly serious, and his lips were in a small but twisted smirk. 

“No. No! Just no…That’s absolutely fucked up. No.” You looked around starting to think about how messed up that your father hadn’t just come up with this idea but that he was willing to do it to his children, your older siblings and drag you into this. “No, and if I did that who would then get the chance to write the think piece on you?” You asked sardonically rubbing your brow. 

“Well, I’m sure Shiv could whip up a sequel to her letter on Kendall.” He bit back almost nonchalantly. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised but I just can’t get over the fact that you’d do this, that you’d ask me to do this dad. What you did to Kendall after that Board vote, was sick… And again? To all of them?” You were starting to feel nauseous and weaker around him. 

“Are you talking to Kendall?” He asked in a cold tone. 

“He’s my brother.” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“And I’m your father.” 

“Unfortunately.” You looked into his eyes and bit your cheek. 

He scoffed at that. He’d come in relatively calm, well calm for him but he was quickly becoming agitated at your lack of cooperation.  

“He’s a lousy excuse for a son and a brother.” 

“Kendall doesn’t interrupt my day of work for a fucked up favour.” You spat out, you weren’t shying away from his gaze even though his presence was getting too much for you. “I think you should leave Dad. I have patients and I need to eat something, I need lunch.” 

“Fine. Don’t give my regards to your fucking brother.” He said as he started to get up, you just leaned against the wall. 

“Hey-” Stewy’s voice crackled against the thick tension between you and your father as he waltzed into the entryway of your waiting room. He paused for a second as his gaze quickly landed on your father and you. You thought you saw a brief flicker of panic in his eyes but he quickly and efficiently plastered over it. 

“And what the fuck are you doing here?” Logan directed at Stewy with a huff and an eye roll. Logan’s concern and suspicion were piqued significantly now as his disappointed gaze flicked over to you. 

“Well sir Roy, your deleterious business plans and board meetings are getting a bit too traumatic, that much I now need to see Dr Roy.” Stewy immediately and confidently jumped in, his playful and pointed lie came across smoothly and convincingly. Logan scoffed at that and started to walk out. 

“Don’t think about trying any of your peacock philandering with my daughter,” Logan said to Stewy as he walked past him. 

“How thoughtful, safe travels sir.” Stewy laughed off Logan’s comment which just seemed to irritate him more. 

“Think about it.” Logan said as he looked back at you as he was in the doorway, you just held his gaze for a moment. 

“I’ll see you at the wedding.” You calmly stated, he narrowed his eyes again at you for a second and then just walked off. 

**********

Stewy wasn’t a patient of yours, he fortunately never had been, that would’ve been a massive ethical violation. He was meeting you at the office for lunch, something that you two often did. It had been vaguely discussed in the past that if somebody ever saw him in your office it could be easy to dismiss it as him being a patient or wanting some kind of psychological consultation relating to work. It was never an excuse that had been needed before today and you were surprised at how quickly Stewy went into that mode and how he simply sold it. 

You were sitting on the sofa in your office with your legs in Stewy’s lap, he had an arm over the back of the sofa and his other hand was gently caressing your legs as you recounted the brief visit from your father before Stewy came. Stewy was playful and a bit chaotic but he was also intelligent and he could be serious and thoughtful, which he often was for you. 

“I should call Kendall before something happens.” You said looking at Stewy and he nodded, continuing his comforting, soft touches on your sprawled-out legs. 

You grabbed your phone and called Kendall, the phone barely rang before it was answered. 

“Yo?”

“Dad came by the office earlier today.” 

“Oh? What did the old fuck want?” Kendall teased.

“He asked me to write a piece on you, Rome and Shiv. To air out everyone’s laundry, basically ‘diagnose’ you all and try to discredit your side of what’s going on. It was so fucked up Ken.” There was a pause for a moment, you heard Kendall sigh and then inhale. You made eye contact with Stewy who was silent and watching you. 

You had a requited soft spot for Kendall. He was your older brother and he was a good one at that. He was fiercely defensive of all his siblings, which he seemed to prioritise over his own trauma and feelings in confrontations with your father. But as the baby of the family and not having the same tongue as your siblings, you suppose you came across as weaker, more vulnerable. You’d concluded a long time ago that this added to the soft spot that Kendall has for you. You also thought subconsciously it was also linked to the fact that you were the most patient and sympathetic sibling he had. 

“What did you say?” Kendall finally asked, his voice was more serious now. 

“I said no, a bazillion times. I told him it was sick and asked him to leave.”

Ken nodded, and then he remembered that you couldn’t see that. 

“That’s pretty fucked up. Not surprising though I guess…”

“Are you with Rome and Shiv?” You asked. 

“Uh-huh, they’re in the uh, they’re inside.” Kendall answered quickly. 

“Can you tell them?” 

“Yeah, sure but-” 

“I’m really sorry Ken but I have another patient soon, I just wanted to tell you as soon as I could in case something happened. I didn’t want to do it over text.” You answered. 

“Okay, I’ll see you at the rehearsal. Thanks as well.” His second sentence was softer. 

“Yeah, of course. See you then.” You then hung up and looked at Stewy. 

“Did he sound okay to you?” You asked Stewy. 

“Sounded pretty okay for Ken.” Stewy responded as he moved his hand away from your legs and to hold your now phone-free hand. You just nodded and Stewy changed the subject to something else for the rest of your lunch hour which you appreciated. 

****** 

You would say you have a complicated but good relationship with your siblings. While you had the same mother as Kendall, Shiv, and Roman, you and Connor were bonded by your outcast status regarding family affairs. You didn’t agree with a lot of the opinions that left Connor’s mouth but he was still a compassionate older brother to you. You often were iced out together at family gatherings as it was all a business opportunity for your father’s attention. 

You were glad that you just had to relay your father’s request to Kendall. Roman was unpredictable and Shiv would’ve assumed that you had sold them out and this was a mind game. An opinion she’d probably make clear to everyone else and in some way to you as well. 

There had always been significant sibling rivalry in the Roy household. But Shiv had always seen you as her competition in particular, you two were the only women and she lived in a man’s world always striving to prove herself out of spite and nature. Even now she still believed your kinder nature was an act to disarm. She never hid the looks of distrust in her eyes.  

You were now home. You still had your apartment and stayed there occasionally but that was more to save face than anything else. Somewhere along the timeline of your relationship, you’d almost practically moved into Stewy’s apartment. The walk-in wardrobe was equally divided, and your favourite teas were in the kitchen. “It’s closer to your office” had been the justification at the time when he’d been encouraging you to stay over more. 

It was surprising that you hadn’t been caught yet with that in mind, part of you would sometimes wonder if your siblings did know but they were saving it but you knew that if they did it would’ve come out to slap you in the face by now. 

When you’d first met Stewy what felt like a million years ago you never would’ve expected something like this to happen. Then when this all happened and started a few years ago it was still, very unexpected. But he knew probably better than what anyone else would ever be able to comprehend what it meant to get seriously involved with a Roy, even one not involved in the family business. He and Kendall had an interesting friendship and history, with Stewy having been mostly good to your brother. But Stewy was always good to you. 

As you let yourself in you kicked off your shoes lost in your thoughts but you quickly noticed Stewy wasn’t back yet. This wasn’t a surprise though, your job meant you got to work more of a typical 9-5. Something you were grateful for, it seemed like life was just one, endless business meeting and opportunity for everyone involved at Waystar. 

You’d made yourself a cup of tea and were now leaning against the bench in the kitchen with it while scrolling on your phone. You had Google alerts set for all of your immediate family and Stewy, surprisingly there didn’t seem to be too much drama online today. 

“Ugh, fuck!” Stewy’s voice boomed and you heard a bang. 

“Shit, Stewy? Are you okay?” You quickly called out as you made your way over to the apartment's entryway. 

“Yeah, just tripped over your shoes again.” Stewy responded with an amused expression as he took his shoes off and moved them along with yours out of the way. 

This wasn’t the first time it had happened and Stewy knew it wouldn’t be the last. 

“I’m sorry.” You said bashfully as you walked over to hug him, pressing a soft, playful kiss to his lips. “I guess, it’s a good thing you love me.” You kissed him again, teasingly nipping on his bottom lip that was in between yours. 

“You’re such a brat baby.” Stewy smirked as his hand wrapped more firmly around your waist and he kissed you back. 

“I thought you loved that?” You teased between kisses as each one became more heated and desperate with lust. Despite Stewy often being caught or easily roped into your family drama he was the best distraction, escape and companion from everything. 

“I do.” Stewy breathed out as he continued to kiss you and was now kissing your jaw. 

“And I love you…” You whimpered out as his lips started to travel down your neck. He now had you pressed against the wall.  

“And what is it that you love exactly baby?” Stewy purred out as he nibbled around your pulse point. He was always such a tease. 

“I love your hair-” You moaned out as you dug your fingers into his soft, gorgeous curls that were always perfect. “Your voice, eyes, those goddamn turtlenecks, your smile, your colossal vocabulary-” 

“Didn’t you say it was farcical the other day?” Stewy said as he stopped kissing you and looked at you. 

“Stewy!” You whined out, you couldn’t feel his lips on you any more but you could still feel him against you but it wasn’t enough. You needed him. His gorgeous dark eyes were blown out with lust but he had his signature playful, mischievous smirk painted across his face as he cruelly teased you. “You’re such a tease.” 

“I thought you loved that.” He quipped back. You rolled your eyes and took the bait.  

“I do, I love how much of a tease you are.” He felt your breath against his neck as you spoke and then pressed a kiss against his neck, breathing him in. He always smelt so good, despite being a bit of a natural peacock it wasn’t showy, it was more subtle but strong enough. You were certain there was sandalwood in his cologne. “I also love how you feel inside of me.” You spoke as your soft lips kissed his handsome jaw, your soft lips a burning contrast against the tickle of his perfectly trimmed beard. 

“Someone’s getting laid tonight.” Stewy got out, pressing his hips against you as you continued kissing along his jaw and neck, tugging his now tousled curls. 

“That was the plan after all Mr. Hosseini.” You smirked against his neck, feeling him continue to harden against you. He let out a soft, melodic moan as you sucked softly on his neck. 

“How does now sound?” 

“Perfect.” You left his neck to kiss him on the lips, you moaned against his mouth as his teeth clashed against yours. 

One of his hands left your waist to quickly unbutton your pants. Once he’d done that, he quickly slipped a hand in, teasing you as he palmed you and then started to tease your bundle of nerves over your underwear. Your arousal had already started to dampen your underwear and it only grew with his attention. You continued to moan against him, as he gingerly traced a pattern.  

“You’re already so wet and I’ve barely touched you.” Stewy teased. “So beautiful and needy.”

Stewy smirked as he felt you press into his hand more, even with the friction of your underwear, you needed more. You wanted him then and there. You kept hungrily kissing him, feeling starved. Stewy snaked a finger under your underwear and rubbed it along your clitoris for a few seconds before dipping it inside of you making you gasp. 

“More, please Stewy.” You begged between kisses, panting as he chuckled. 

“Such a desperate girl with a needy pussy.” Stewy whispered into your ear as he added a second finger in, he picked up the pace a bit he continued to finger you and his thumb moved to rub over your clitoris a few times. His fingers were covered in your slick and you didn’t have any interest in holding back any of your moans. 

You stayed sandwiched between the wall and Stewy, just moving to press your head against his shoulder, the fabric of his blazer muffled some of your moans as he continued to finger you. You looked down and started to undo his belt and pants. 

“What do you think you're doing baby?” Stewy asked in a low voice that was just making the space in between your thighs grow into an even bigger pool of dampness, you were melting against him. 

“I want you.” You tilted your head up so it was still resting against his shoulder but you were now facing his neck more, you started to kiss his neck again, biting it softly and then licking it. “I want you to fuck me Stewy.” 

“Beg.” Stewy breathed out as he let out a little moan as your tongue darted over his pulse point. His fingers were still entering you but not as deep as before and his thumb was painfully slowly, languidly massaging your bundle of nerves. 

“Please Stewy. Fuck me, I need to feel you deep inside of me.” You nipped him softly right near his pulse point and revelled in the groan he let out at that. “Please, I’m begging you Stewy. I need you.” 

“Tell me exactly what you need.” His thumb cruelly left your clitoris for a moment making you gasp out in shock but he added a third finger inside of you, getting to that soft spot that made you melt and his thumb gently returned to your clitoris after a few seconds. 

“I uh, I-I need you. I need you inside of me now Stewy. I need to feel your cock inside of me.” You moaned out. “Nobody has ever and could ever fill me up the way you do. It feels so good, you make me feel so good. Pl-please Stewy. Please.” You mewled out and you couldn’t quite see his face but you knew it would have that beautiful arrogant smirk. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby. I just need you to come for me first, you can do that, right? I can tell your desperate little pussy is already so close.” You nodded desperately, he wasn’t wrong. You were close to unravelling, he could tell from your breathing and how you weren’t just flooding his fingers but also clamping around him. 

“I’m so close, Stew, fuck.” You moaned out, panting against his neck, it tickled him slightly. You bit your lip and moaned against his neck, he could feel the vibration of it and he loved that, that and the sound of your pleasure. You could feel it coming and gasped into his neck again as you came, Stewy could feel it and smiled as his fingering eased to a slower, gentler pace as you came down from your orgasm. 

“How was that?” He smirked as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“It was- it was…” You paused for a moment as your breathing started to settle, your heart was still pounding from that high though. “Good.” 

“Good? Only good?” He questioned with a tone of mock hurt.

“Just shut up and fuck me now, please Stew.” You bit his neck, just feeling even more needy for him than you did before. 

“I thought you liked my colossal vocabulary and voice?” He teased as he playfully grinded into you “I distinctly remember you saying so a few minutes ago.” 

“You’re so mean Stewy.” You giggled softly, gently pulling on the roots of his curls. 

“Was that just to get me into your pants?” Stewy paused the grinding, his tone acting as if he was hurt and that the insinuation was possibly true. 

“I guess not because that obviously didn’t work very well.” You responded, leaning back against the wall. He raised an eyebrow at you and then looked down at his belt. You rolled your eyes playfully and started to undo his belt, palming him. He was completely hard but you already knew this from when he’d been grinding into you. 

“Bedroom baby.” Stewy moaned out as you pulled his hard cock out and rubbed it with one hand. 

“You can fuck me here, you’ve done it before.” You pouted and he just chuckled as you kept up with your ministrations. 

“You said I was mean, so you’re not getting it here. You can wait the whole ten seconds it takes to walk to the bed. Our bed for me to have my way with you.” Stewy’s voice was low and firm but there was still that natural teasing tone there. 

You walked briskly to the bedroom that you two shared and Stewy followed and chuckled over the eagerness of your gait. As soon as you both were in the clean room, you kissed him hungrily again. He smirked and expertly unbuttoned your blouse as you pushed his blazer off. You kicked your pants and underwear off and he quickly followed suit. 

Stewy pressed you into the bed and you tugged on the turtleneck he was still wearing to bring him closer to you and then started to push it up off him. 

“Do you love my turtleneck baby?” Stewy teased as you did. 

“Absolutely love it.” You breathed out with a smirk. 

As soon as it was off and thrown to the floor, you were kissing each other again as if you couldn’t survive without the other. You were running your hands over Stewy’s back and up his neck to the luscious locks you loved as he quickly undid your bra. You were both now naked and he continued to kiss you as his hands cupped your chest. 

You moaned out as he started to caress you and pinch your nipples. His lips travelled from yours down to your jaw, your throat, he kissed your breasts and teasingly licked along your nipple for a minute as he started to rub your heat with his other hand. 

“Please Stewy.” You begged out in a desperate moan as your eyes were closed in pleasure. 

“Please, fuck you?” He again teases as he starts to line himself up at your entrance. 

“Yes, please that.” 

Stewy stopped his teasing and happily obliged after what felt like an eternity of almost edging. He pressed his head into you and you gasped as he did, gently scratching his shoulders as he did. It wasn’t long till he was bottomed out, he waited a few seconds for you to adjust before he started to slowly thrust inside of you, eliciting the most melodic moans he’d ever heard. 

“You’re so beautiful and tight, I love being inside of you baby.” Stewy cooed out as his pace quickly picked up a deeper and slightly faster rhythm. 

“You feel so good Stewy, so good inside of me.” You mewled out. 

Your words were literal music to his ears and it wasn’t long till he was grunting out as his thrusts became deeper and harder. 

It was so easy to become lost in Stewy. Especially when he was fucking you like this, having his way with you in the bed you shared. How couldn’t you be lost in him when your eyes were open he was all you could see?

His scent was dizzying as it mixed with the sweat he’d built up from snapping his hips into yours, he was all you could feel, on you and in you, his grunts, words and the filthy sounds you were making together were all you could hear. Stewy was intoxicating, overwhelming, a sensory overload in the most spectacular way. 

You were pulling on his hair as you felt him hitting that perfect soft spot deep inside of you. Your bundle of nerves was already sensitive from the teasing and your earlier orgasm and you could feel the warmth of another orgasm building. 

Stewy wasn’t clueless about this, he could feel you clenching around him especially as he reached that sensitive spot of yours and you were flooding him in your arousal. Other than the feeling of being buried deep inside of you, Stewy couldn’t think of anything sweeter than the noises of your moan and whimpers and the sounds of the squelches made of him thrusting into you and being met with your juices. 

Stewy continued to pound into you, his thrusts were faster and needier, and he was getting close himself. He pressed some sloppy kisses to your neck that warmed your insides up even more with desire and love for him. Stewy’s lips travelled back to yours and you opened your mouth inviting him in as your tongues and teeth passionately attacked each other. 

The kiss became deeper and deeper, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and felt him groan at that against your lips which in turn made you smirk. You two continued to kiss and he started to rub your clitoris with his thumb, you moaned into his mouth at the sweet pressure and slightly writhed under him. 

“That feels so good Stew.” You panted out as the kiss broke for a second and you both panted as he continued to thrust into you while rubbing a circular pattern on your bundle of nerves getting closer to their peak. 

“You feel so good. I love you.” He panted out between moans, as his eyes rolled back at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him. 

“I love you too.” You moaned out, as your legs tightened slightly around him and you scratched his back. “I’m, so, so, so close.” 

“Yeah? I can feel that baby. Oh fuck, I want you to come for me, come on my cock baby.” He encouraged as he continued. Kissing along your pulse point, fully knowing that would drive you closer to your climax. 

You moaned out while scratching his back and pulling on his hair as you unravelled from your orgasm. Stewy smirked against your neck and continued to massage your sensitive bundle of nerves and thrust at the same, perfect speed as you chased your orgasm and rode out that high. 

“Thank you, baby, that was so good. I want you to come, to fill me up.” You panted out as you placed a hand to cup his cheek as his hips continued to snap back into yours. 

“Fuck, I’m pretty close.” 

You dug your nails into his back as he felt you clench around him in the most spectacular way as you orgasmed and post that. He began to chase his own high and you knew he was close as his thrusts spread up and the pace was more sporadic than rhythmic. 

After a couple more minutes of thrusts, Stewy grunted and kissed you more desperately than he had all day and finally chased his own climax and finished inside of you. Before he pulled out the kiss changed to a gentle, affectionate one and you lightly combed your hands through his hair and then ran them along his face and jaw as he kissed you like that. 

Stewy kissed your forehead softly and then pulled out to go towards the ensuite to get a washcloth to clean up the mess you had made together. He was so firm but gentle with you. 

After that, he laid in bed again on his back, you were cuddled into his side, with your head on his warm chest feeling almost half asleep. 

“What do you think of marriage now?” Stewy asked interrupting the peaceful post-sex silence. There was an air of playfulness but his voice was softer, quieter, almost sleepy. 

“Pardon?” You shifted slightly off his chest to get a better look at his face. You were certain you’d heard him correctly but you weren’t sure if maybe you’d fully given into sleep and this was gibberish or a dream. 

“We’ve talked about eloping before.” 

“Yeah, yes we have but-” 

“I wasn’t joking.” Stewy said as he gently held your chin between his index finger and his thumb. His voice was still soft but it was a bit firmer now, more serious than tired or playful. You bit your lip unsure of what to say as he continued to look into your eyes with his beautiful, diluted ones. 

“You know what that would entail Stewy. Your career-” 

“I do and-” 

“Stewy.” You rested your chin on his chest looking at him. He could see that you were tired. 

“So you don’t want to marry me right before your brother and Willa? Maybe a day or two after? Get that IUD out, then pop out a few babies. I’ll even be super fucking generous and get a vasectomy.” His tone was more teasing now and you had a feeling the humour wasn’t completely genuine but partially a cover-up of possible hurt. 

“Sweetie, I love you. Can we talk about this tomorrow? Maybe not talk about this ‘post-coitus’.” You offered him a small smile and combed your fingers through his hair, admiring the dark locks and the stunning strands of silver. 

“Yes ma’am.” Stewy nodded and kissed your forehead. You settled back into his chest and it wasn’t long until you had dozed off in his arms and on the comfortable pillow of his chest with the reassuring sound of his heartbeat. 

********

You’d been the only one of your siblings to stay for Connor’s wedding. Weddings were just business opportunities in the world of the Roys, grief couldn’t exist with the market and leadership decisions. You didn’t like how the wedding or death side of that traumatic day went down or how it was handled but unexpected deaths weren’t meant to be convenient or follow logic. 

You were now in your deceased father’s penthouse at his wake, having spent most of the morning hiding in a corner from as many eyes as possible. You’d really only spoken to Connor and Willa, your other siblings were in a sitting room being as business-focused as possible. 

It had been a little while into the Wake and you were with your siblings when Stewy and the Furnesses came in. Connor and Willa had been the easiest to talk to which wasn’t really anything new. Kendall and you occasionally made little remarks to each other and even you and Shiv exchanged some looks over other people’s comments or well, audacity.

You took Stewy’s handsome face in, he looked well-rested and fresh-eyed despite the fact that he’d been up most of the night with grieving you. He was handsomely dressed and groomed as always. You wanted to be held by him again, to leave and be curled up in a ball with him. Normally you two acted amicably when your paths crossed in the Roy world and public like this. But you were too depressed and exhausted for the usual furtive nature. 

He’d hugged and given his condolences to your sister Shiv and then she’d moved on to Sandi. You looked at Stewy and gave him a small smile, he went to give you a hug and a faux kiss on the cheek as he did for Shiv but you needed more than that, you needed him. You genuinely hugged him and pressed your head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat, a firm, undeniable reminder that he was there was always comforting. You didn’t care that your siblings were nearby, it wasn’t an indecent act. 

Stewy couldn’t and wouldn’t say no to affection from you ever, let alone in your state in this context. He reciprocated the genuine hug and you held onto him for maybe a few seconds longer than you should’ve if you wanted to avoid the suspicion of your siblings. 

You pulled away despite never wanting to do and tilted your head to see that he was looking at you warmly, sympathy written all over his eyes. His hands had moved to softly rest on the sides of your arm, the touch was comforting but could easily be perceived and argued as platonic to an onlooker. He had a small, genuine smile on his face as he looked at you. 

“Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hey.” You responded back quietly. You wanted to kiss him, you were almost tempted to and then Kendall was quickly whisking Stewy away. 

You went back to your corner and eventually, you were joined by Kendall and Roman. You saw that Stewy was making his rounds of small talk and his eyes occasionally wandering, searching for you to see where you were and how you were doing. 

“Have you thought about psychoanalysing yourself?” 

“What?” You questioned exhaustedly as your mind was pulled away from stealing glances at Stewy by Roman’s words. 

“That was a bit too touchy with Ken-doll’s boyfriend.” Roman retorted. “I didn’t realise jumping on your brother’s BFF was one of the five stages of grief.” 

“Excuse me?” You now glared at him. 

“Oh, I guess it must be a new one they added in.  Are you gonna get a model named after yourself? Or are you saving the Roy model for something more fucked up?” 

“I’m not doing this Roman.” You sighed in exasperation and walked off to find a glass of wine but were quickly disturbed again. 

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t actually know about you two,” Kendall smirked as he whispered to you. 

“What the fuck Ken?” You jumped at the fright from Kendall, you were grateful that you were still empty-handed or else you’d have stained your outfit if not all of your surroundings from your brotherly jumpscare. Your reaction just made Kendall’s smirk grow. “You knew? But Stewy never told you.” 

“He didn’t. I figured out a while ago that you two were uh…” He dramatically paused for a moment as if he was thinking of the right word with a teasing smirk. “Copulating.” 

“Ken!” You elbowed him softly to try and get him to quieten down. “Why did you never say anything?” You quietly questioned. 

“Well, it was pretty fucking weird at first. He’s not the worst Harvard finance bro out there.” Kendall said with a playful expression. “He keeps you happy-adjacent right?” 

“Yeah, he does. Thank you.” You gave Kendall a tight-lipped but grateful smile. 

“You know, you don’t have to hide it anymore right?” 

You looked up at Kendall, questioning him with your eyes. You and Stewy’s relationship was complicated and you’d say it was pretty healthy despite the furtive nature, it had been that way for everyone’s personal and professional sake. Kendall’s smirk started to slowly slip as he took in your expression. 

“He’s dead.” Kendall spoke softly as you stared into each other’s eyes, he placed his hand on your arm as his face grew more serious. You eyed Kendall trying to find the right words. Sure your father had been part of it but it was a complicated situation with many pieces. 

“I could live with dad icing me out, cutting that relationship. I made peace with what that is a while ago. But-but, it’s when Roman, Shiv, and you. That’s what really hurts.” 

“That’ll be all that Roman says and well Shiv, she’ll only say anything about it behind your back.” 

“So comforting and reassuring.” You dryly said. 

“I’ll send you the invoice for Kendall Roy’s Therapy.” He teased and you both chuckled dryly at that. 

There wasn’t much else to say to that and you knew Kendall wasn’t ready to talk about the bigger problems yet so you gave your brother a tight hug that he quickly reciprocated. You stayed in each other’s arms for a few moments, it was healing and reassuring in a way. 

You then left to sit on a miraculously empty couch as Kendall went off to talk to Roman and Shiv again about company matters you didn’t want to hear about and that they wouldn’t want to discuss in front of you or Connor anyway. As you sat there, Stewy caught your eyes again and this time he finally came over. He sat next to you on the sofa but left a reasonable, person-sized gap between the two of you. 

“Kendall knows, you know.” You quietly state looking at him tiredly, the events of the last 24 hours and your lack of sleep were quickly catching up with you. 

“Well, I’m in private equity not acting baby.” You scoff at that and smile, sinking a little further into the sofa. 

“Perspicuously not in comedy either, babe.” You say with a smile that grows. You tilt your head to look at his expression, his big beautiful eyes are watching you and there’s the cocky smile plastered on his face that you’re in love with. 

“I’ve learnt it’s best to save the wit for the Roys.” He shoots back with a mischievous gleam in his eye. 

Stewy’s here and he’s being cheeky for your sake. You love that about him, his tongue isn’t biting like your siblings but his humour is a way of showing up. 

“Do you want to go on the balcony for a minute?” You questioned. “I want some fresh air.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He leaned his hand over that empty space of safety between you two to squeeze your hand for a second before you got up and he then followed you. 

He leant against the railing and watched you once you were both out on the much more, pleasantly quiet balcony. 

You laid your head against his chest and wrapped your arms around him, listening to his heart calmly beat as he pressed his chin against the top of your head and exhaled. Stewy’s thumb was tracing reassuring patterns on your arm. He hummed softly for a moment and you could feel the vibration of it on the top of your skull. 

You and Stewy both knew this was a sure way to be caught but neither of you cared in this moment and didn’t care about any of the consequences. They were manageable, they felt minor now and realistically they were. This would shift the family dynamic and having furtive hands with your lover always seemed to you to be in the best interests of Stewy’s career and the dramas between him, Kendall and Waystar. 

You were pretty okay with being out in the open with Stewy and he felt the same way. As the relationship went on, he wanted that more and more. His post-coitus conversation was serious and not a post-orgasm thought. 

“You were serious about eloping before Connor’s wedding weren’t you?” 

“Probably poor taste to say it right now but yes baby, dead serious.” 

You laughed at that and he felt it vibrate against him and it made him smile. He just wanted to bring you a bit of comfort and joy on an awful day like today. 

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” 

“Are you saying you want to get eloped?” 

“Well, I was thinking of leaking the story to ATN that Stewy Hosseini is so whipped by the Roys that he gets a vasectomy for one and not the one they’d expect.” You teased, laughing a bit more and he laughed as well. 

“Well, as much as I think we could find you something short to wear as an elopement dress, maybe something fun and scandalous like Sharon Tate’s since you like those old flicks. I don’t think we should leave your dad’s wake to go off and elope, might be the cultural upbringing differences but seems a little rude to me.” Stewy teased, you laughed and kissed him on the lips softly for a moment. 

“How does tomorrow sound?” 

“For an elopement?” “Yeah.” 

“Perfect.” 

[richeeduvie]

Hi! Funny that you mention Papa Frank, I recently rewatched Father of the Bride and it's my comfort sick movie and Kieran Culkin is so cute in that movie.

My headcanon is that when Roman was around 8 he spent the entire summer with Baby and Frank( it was probably that Frank got custody) it was definitely the time Roman got to be a normal kid. My vision was he stayed there until the first day of school and as he got there Shiv and Kendall remembered he had been with her and what was supposed to be a couple of weeks turned into the whole summer vacations and in petty jealousy they told their parents and got sent home🤭

"Roman, you don't have to stuff the whole thing down. It's not going anywhere."

Roman's habit of eating anything Baby makes like it'll disappear has existed for awhile. They made a cake with Frank. It was fun and eventually, Roman stops with the hard, child glaring at his friend's not father and does enjoy the baking experience.

He stares, though, when Frank holds Baby up over the stove, they're making mix from scratch in a saucepan and the Roy boy doesn't think he's seen anything so...soft? He's not even her dad dad, but Roman's never been held like that. And she's giggling a lot. She giggles all the time during the summer, so does he. Frank can be funny sometimes.

Shiv wants to kill her big brother, although he doesn't know it. His months have been too busy with Frank and Baby going to things. Water parks (with exclusive passes), trips into nature. Into Frank's plane. They couldn't really go outside New York - away from Logan and Waystar because Frank's also Waystar but they spent many nights just staying in a big house, houses for movies and boardgames.

What Frank thought kids liked. At the time, he thought he was learning quickly and well with how Baby existed as a little girl.

Frank in present will never bring it up to an adult Roman, but he thought it was sweet when the boy fell asleep on his shoulder, Baby on the other.

Shiv wants to kill her big brother.

"It's not fair!"

"Shivvy, calm down-"

"Why does he get to go? He's almost been gone for the whole summer and he's a boy! He's having a forever sleepover with her? Dad's friend is stupid! Roman's stupid! I know he's going to rub it in my face. We need to tell Dad."

"Why do you think he doesn't know?"

"Because he doesn't care. But let's tell him! Or Mom."

It's not sure how Logan or Caroline didn't come to really realize or care that their son was away for so long. But it's not surprising.

Shiv breathed out hard, little as she was. Kendall scratched his head when she punched her fist into her bed.

"We did lots of cool stuff this Summer, right?"

"Not with Frank. Mr. Frank. I didn't my friend all Summer because he's stupid."

Roman's happy, child and boy bliss when he arrives to school in a different car than Shiv. With Baby.

"Isn't it weird Roman isn't here?"

"It's good for a boy to get out and gain independence away from the home. Even out a young age. You might get it one day too."

She rolled her eyes at the memory of Caroline and the sight of them.

She's going to tell Mom and Dad she saw them kissing. But she'll have to be super sneaky about it, because Shiv doesn't want Baby to think she got her in trouble. It's just not fair.