#I’m freaking out about this and have read it like three time already

[dykebehaviour]

⋆ ˚｡✞ ⋆˚sanctified⋆ ˚｡✞ ⋆˚

rebel!ellie x preachers!daughter!reader

✞ summary : you, the preacher’s daughter, falls for the school’s rebellious out lesbian. shame, faith, and first love collide in a slow-burning secret romance that threatens to ruin everything - unless you’re brave enough to choose it.

glass saint

✞ cw : religious themes, internalised homophobia, fem!reader, emotional repression, drug use, language, emotional vulnerability.

✞ wk : 4,500

✞ 1 > 2 > 3

you grew up believing heaven was measured in obedience.

pressed skirts, bowed heads, and whispered amens. that was the currency of salvation. your father taught you that. he didn’t say it so much as live it - voice steady at the pulpit every sunday, always dressed in some shade of holy, his faith shining like a sword in the dark. you were raised like a precious thing. protected. sheltered. moulded.

so when you came to saint agnes girls academy - the all-girls religious boarding school nestled in the woods just outside ashland - you already knew how to keep your mouth shut and your knees together. you already knew the words to every hymn, every psalm, every prayer. you already knew who to be.

but nothing could have prepared you for ellie williams.

you’d heard of her before you ever saw her. the whispers started day one. “don’t sit near her.” “she’s a freak.” “she got expelled from three schools already.” “she kissed a girl and told the priest to go fuck himself.” you told yourself you didn’t care. that she was just another lost soul on the edge of ruin.

but that was before the chapel incident.

it was the third week of term when it happened. wednesday evening mass. you were sitting in the front row, back straight, cross necklace gleaming like polished silver in the candlelight. ellie stumbled in halfway through the sermon - late, of course - and didn’t even pretend to be reverent. she slouched into the pew behind you, her uniform a mess: tie loose, shirt untucked, black hoodie poking out from underneath her blazer. her shoes, beat up and definitely not regulated, clunked against the floor as she kicked them up onto the wooden bench, arms stretched wide like she was crucifying herself.

you didn’t mean to look. you really didn’t. but you couldn’t help it. something about her demanded to be seen.

her eyes met yours halfway through father matthews’ reading from leviticus. you hadn’t realised she was staring. her gaze was piercing; sharp, amused, knowing. and when the priest read, “thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind: it is abomination”, ellie smirked.

then, quiet, low, just loud enough for you to hear, she muttered: “guess i’m going to hell.”

you flushed hot all over.

not because you were scandalised.

but because your thighs pressed together, tight.

you didn’t speak to her for weeks after that. you avoided her when you could. she always seemed to be somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be: behind the science labs smoking weed, or carving something into the underside of a desk in ethics class, or passed out in the sun with headphones on during choir practice. people gave her a wide berth. the teachers tolerated her only because she was too smart to flunk and too stubborn to punish.

but you were different. you couldn’t ignore her.

because she was the only thing in this place that made you feel like you were unraveling.

and you hated that.

so the first time you talked to her, it was out of spite.

she was lounging outside the dormitories, sitting on the hood of one of the school vans with a sketchpad in her lap and a cigarette between her lips. the sun was setting behind her, turning the clouds violet and gold.

you stood over her with your arms crossed.

“you’re not supposed to smoke on school grounds.”

she didn’t look up. just exhaled slow and said, “you’re not supposed to lie, either. but i bet you do.”

you stiffened. “excuse me?”

ellie finally looked up. her eyes were green and wicked. “you think no one notices you staring? you practically drool every time i walk past.”

“i don’t-“

“relax,” she said, smirking. “i’m flattered. daddy’s little saint wants to be a sinner. cute.”

you slapped the sketchpad out of her lap.

it fell to the pavement, flipping open to reveal a half-finished charcoal sketch.

of you.

you turned and walked away before she could see your hands trembling.

from that day forward, she started talking to you like it was a game.

little things. snide comments in the hallway. winks from across the dining hall. notes slipped into your locker with things like “tell me again how you’re not gay while you keep staring at the girls in the locker rooms like that.” or “confession at 7? you should really bring up the way you stared at me in theology today. real unholy.”

you hated her.

you hated the way she made you feel.

you hated that she could say those things so freely, like she wasn’t scared. like she’d already made peace with the part of herself you were still trying to drown in scripture.

but the worst part? you started writing back.

the first note was angry. accusatory.

i feel sorry for you.

her response?

that’s funny. i touch myself to you.

you nearly set it on fire.

but you didn’t.

you kept it in your bible. right next to the book of james.

the slow burn wasn’t fire at first.

it was silence. stolen glances. unspoken tension.

it was the way she sat behind you in chapel, always one pew back, always close enough that you could hear her breathing. it was the way your skin burned when she brushed past you in the hallway. it was the fact that you started watching her hands in class, long fingers smudged with ink, drumming against the desk, always restless, always creating.

and then it was anger again.

one day in ethics, when father matthews launched into another homophobic diatribe, ellie laughed. loud. too loud.

you turned around in your seat, furious.

“can you show some respect?” you hissed.

ellie leaned back, one arm slung over the back of her chair. “for what? a bunch of bigots using god to hide their hate?”

“he’s a priest-“

“he’s a coward.”

you stared at her, your face burning.

“you’re disgusting.”

she smirked. “and you’re a liar.”

that was the first time she kissed you.

not there. not then.

but later, that same night, when you found her sitting on the chapel steps, legs outstretched, blunt in hand, sketchbook resting against her thigh. you meant to yell at her again. you meant to tell her to leave, to stop tormenting you, to act like a decent human being.

but when you opened your mouth, all that came out was:

“why me?”

ellie didn’t look at you.

she exhaled smoke and said, “because you’re the only one who looks at me like you want something you’re not allowed to want.”

and then - quiet, almost soft - “because you hate me the way i hated myself.”

she didn’t wait.

she just leaned in, fingers curled under your jaw, and kissed you like it didn’t matter if the world burned down around you.

✞ perm taglist : @yasmilks , @natsheretic , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @pearlsiie , @aj0elap0l0gist , @sincerelyherz , @imsiriuslycool , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie , @celiacallsitcasual , @gurlbownerr , @l0veylace , @bluminescent-moon , @oatmatchalatte <3

[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[inseobts]

Hello!! I just found ur blog and I really like ur writing ☺️ I would like a imagine/scenario with fem!reader, she is in a relationship with the captain trio (kid, law and Luffy) just some silly things about them arguing about with boat she should stay for the next time (the captains are not with each other, they kinda "share" the reader) I also would like it fluffy please 😊 I'm sorry if that's confusing, English is not my first language

Three Boats, One Heart

law + kid + luffy x fem!reader (poly relantionship)

a/n: okay idk if I did it good but I loved that I didn't have to choose just one lmao

words count: 3.9k

tags: fluff, captain trio x reader, poly-ish, jealousy, silly arguments, established relationship/s

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The wind is soft today. The sea is calm. You’re smiling.

You should have known peace wouldn’t last long.

“I told you she’s staying with me this time!” Kid’s voice booms across the small island harbor, arms crossed and lips curled into a scowl. His red hair shines under the sun, making him look even angrier than usual.

“No,” Law says flatly, not even looking at Kid. His cold eyes are on you “She said she’d stay on my submarine this week. We made plans.”

“Plans?” Luffy cuts in, loudly. He’s already clinging to your arm like a koala “But she promised me meat night on the Sunny! That’s way better than boring submarine plans!”

“I didn’t promise—” you try to speak, but your words are drowned out by the three men yelling over each other again.

“She likes spicy food! My chef makes it best!” Kid growls.

“She said she wanted to read that book I found. That’s on my ship” Law shoots back, tightening his gloves.

“I have hammocks! And sea kings to see! And fun! You’re boring, Law!” Luffy huffs.

You stand there, blinking slowly, while your boyfriends, three of the most dangerous men on the sea, argue like kids in a candy store.

“Why don’t we let her choose?” Law finally says, raising an eyebrow “She has a mouth.”

“Yeah, and it’s gonna say Kid’s ship” Kid smirks.

“Meat night!” Luffy shouts again.

You sigh, putting your hands up.

“Guys. Guys. GUYS!”

They freeze. All three turn to look at you. Luffy’s eyes are wide. Law’s brow twitches. Kid grumbles something but shuts up.

You smile sweetly “How about… I choose after dinner?”

“No!” They shout in unison.

“Of course you’d wait until after meat night” Law mutters to Luffy.

Kid rolls his eyes “Typical.”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh “Then I’m flipping a coin.”

Three voices, instantly:

“No fair!”

“Unscientific.”

“Do two out of three!”

You take a deep breath.

This is your life now.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The sun dips lower in the sky, painting the clouds pink and orange. You sit on a crate at the edge of the harbor, swinging your legs. You should be relaxing.

But instead…

“Y/N.”

You blink. Law’s standing in front of you, quiet and serious. Too quiet. You squint suspiciously.

“What are you hiding?”

“…Nothing.”

He sits beside you. Then, very slowly, he pulls something from his coat.

Your eyes widen “Wait. Is that...?”

“The new novel from the Baterilla Book Fair,” he says calmly “First edition. I used Room to grab it before anyone else could.”

You gasp “Law!”

“I thought you’d appreciate it. Since you ‘haven’t had quiet reading time in weeks’.”

Your heart flutters. He even remembers that?

Before you can thank him, a loud clang rings from behind.

“Killer, give me the tray! Move!”

You turn just in time to see Kid stomping toward you with a whole plate of your favorite spicy dumplings. His metal arm is holding the tray like a fancy waiter. It’s kind of terrifying.

“You like food more than books anyway, right?” he says, shoving the plate into your lap.

“Excuse me?” Law snaps, standing up.

“Chill, Surgeon Freak. You can read your little book while she eats my food” Kid smirks.

You glance between them.

“…Are you two trying to bribe me?”

“No” Law says.

“Yes” Kid says at the same time.

“MEAT NIGHT!!!”

Both men nearly jump as Luffy appears out of nowhere, hanging upside down from a tree branch above you like a happy little menace.

“I saved you the biggest steak!” he grins “And I got Usopp to make you a sea cow milkshake! You have to come now!”

You burst out laughing.

All three of them stare at you.

“Okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye, “this is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous” Luffy mumbles into your hair, now fully clung to your back like a backpack.

“Don’t touch her like that...” Kid growls.

“She’s not yours” Law adds.

“She’s mine right now!” Luffy says proudly, kicking his feet in the air.

You let out a long sigh, smiling at them all.

“Alright. How about this. Since you’re all going the same way, I spend one day on each ship. Three days, three ships. Fair?”

They look at each other. Then at you.

“…Fine” Law says first.

“Tch. I guess that works” Kid mutters.

Luffy hums “Only if I get to keep her the fourth day!”

“What fourth day?”

And just like that, they’re bickering again.

You sit back with your plate of dumplings, the new book in your lap, and Luffy still clinging to you like an overgrown plushie.

Yeah. Life is good.

The moon is up now. The island is quiet except, of course, for your three boyfriends standing in a triangle around you, arms crossed and eyes sharp like you’re about to make the most important decision in the world.

You hold up the coin “Heads is Luffy. Tails is Law. If it lands on the edge, I go with Kid.”

Kid’s eye twitches “What?!”

“Relax,” you smirk “It’s a joke. Two rounds. First flip is Law versus Luffy. The winner faces Kid. Final flip decides who gets me first.”

They all freeze.

“…That’s so dumb it might work” Kid mutters, crossing his arms.

“I accept this tournament” Luffy says seriously, like it’s a sacred honor.

Law just sighs “We’re gambling for time with our girlfriend. Ridiculous.”

“Still playing, though?” you smirk.

“…Obviously.”

You clap your hands once “Alright. First round: Luffy versus Law. Heads for Luffy, Tails for Law. Let the Coin Games begin.”

You flip it high. All three captains tilt their heads to watch it spin.

Clink.

“Tails!” you call “Law wins the first round!”

“HAH,” Law smirks, pushing his hair back “Try again next time, Straw Hat.”

“NNNOOOO!” Luffy drops to his knees like you just told him meat is illegal “I wanted to go first!”

You pat his head gently “So cute. It’s Law vs. Kid now.”

“Easy,” Kid scoffs, stepping forward “He’s going down.”

Law rolls his neck like he’s prepping for a fight “I hate this coin.”

You flip again.

It spins.

Clink.

“Heads,” you say, blinking down at it “Kid wins.”

Kid raises both fists in the air “HELL. YES.”

Law just stares in silence, his soul briefly leaving his body.

“I lost to him?” he whispers.

Luffy’s already back on his feet, grabbing your hand “I love this game! We should do this every week!”

Kid grins down at you “Guess who’s staying on the Metal Queen tonight?”

You sigh, half-laughing, half-panicking.

“Fine. Kid wins this round. But you two get your turns after, okay?”

Law and Luffy both grumble in unison but nod.

You don’t miss the way Law mutters “best two out of three” under his breath.

Or how Luffy is already planning “revenge”.

Aboard the Victoria Punk, the ship smells like oil, metal, and faint spice from the kitchen. It’s loud. Messy. Kind of chaotic. Very Kid.

He walks with you through the deck like he owns the world. Probably because he thinks he does.

“You’re not cold, right?” he asks suddenly, pulling off his heavy coat and tossing it around your shoulders without warning.

“It’s warm” you say with a soft smile, hugging it around yourself.

He scratches the back of his neck, looking away “Yeah. Whatever.”

Later, you sit in his workshop while he tinkers with something strange and sparking. He lets you sit on the counter, tosses you tools when you ask, and only yells a little when you nearly press a self-destruct button.

“I like when you’re here,” he mumbles, not looking at you “Ship feels less… noisy.”

You blink “Kid. Your ship is always noisy.”

“Exactly.”

You chuckle, reaching down to brush a bit of oil off his cheek. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your palm like it’s no big deal.

You don’t tell him your heart stutters. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

You wake up in Kid’s room. It’s not as scary as people would think. Sure, there’s a pile of gears in one corner and his desk looks like a mad inventor lives there (he kind of does), but the bed is surprisingly soft.

Probably because he shoved every blanket on the ship onto it last night.

You stretch, blinking as the first rays of sunlight sneak through the window. A heavy weight is across your waist.

You look down.

Kid’s metal arm is draped over you like a guard rail. His face is pressed into the pillow beside yours, red hair a mess, mouth slightly open. He’s snoring. Just a little.

You try to move.

The arm tightens.

“…Don’t” he mutters, still half-asleep.

“I need to pee.”

“…Hold it.”

You snort “Wow. Romantic.”

He finally opens one eye “You got somewhere else to be?”

“I mean, eventually? The deal was one day each.”

“Tch.” He flops onto his back, metal arm now resting across your stomach like a very heavy paperweight “Not a good deal. Should’ve fought harder.”

“You won.”

“Yeah. But now I gotta give you up.”

You pause.

“…Did you just say something sweet?”

“No. Shut up.” He throws a pillow at your face.

You toss it back.

He catches it midair, grinning “You really like that coin more than me, huh?”

You smirk “The coin doesn’t snore.”

“Liar. Coin’s boring. I’m way more fun.”

He leans in and kisses you hard, no warning, no softness. It’s all teeth and heat and Kid. He pulls back just enough to murmur “Next time, I’m not letting that stupid surgeon or Straw Hat touch you for a week.”

You raise an eyebrow “Jealous?”

“Damn right I am.”

You wrap your arms around his neck “Then make this day count.”

He grins.

Challenge accepted.

Later on you stand at the edge of the harbor, bag over your shoulder, Law’s submarine already waiting in the water like a quiet shadow. You can see Shachi waving from the deck. Bepo’s holding a handmade welcome banner. It’s adorable.

Behind you, Kid is scowling like he just bit into something sour.

“You don’t have to go, you know” he mutters, arms crossed. His metal arm whirs softly as he flexes it without meaning to.

“I do,” you say, turning to face him “We had a deal.”

“Deals can be broken.”

“Not this one.”

He glares at the submarine like it insulted him personally “Stupid bathtub ship.”

You smirk “Aww. Are you gonna miss me, Captain Angry?”

“…No” he lies.

You step closer, rising up to kiss his cheek “Well, I’ll miss you.”

He shifts awkwardly, lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile. But when you start walking away, he follows behind you like an annoyed cat.

You reach the dock. Law’s crew starts lowering a little platform to pick you up.

Kid frowns deeper “This is dumb.”

“Don’t start” you sigh.

“I don’t like this.”

“You agreed to this.”

“Under protest.”

You glance back at him, amused “Come on, Kid. Sharing is caring.”

That does it.

“I share nothing with them!” he snaps, voice echoing.

You turn around slowly, tilting your head. Then you smile. Not teasing. Not smug. Just soft.

“You do,” you say quietly “You share me.”

Kid blinks. His jaw clenches.

You can almost see the NO I DON’T forming on his lips, but he doesn’t say it.

He looks at you and his scowl twitches into something closer to pain “That’s different.”

“I know,” you whisper, stepping up to him one last time. You press your forehead to his “But I come back. Every time.”

He exhales through his nose “You better.”

“I will.”

“You better wear the coat I gave you. It smells like me.”

“…That’s why you gave it to me?”

He shrugs, smug again “Marking my territory.”

You shake your head, laughing, and step onto the lift as it takes you down toward the sub.

Kid watches the whole way, eyes sharp, arms folded tight across his chest.

You wave.

He doesn’t wave back but you know he’s still watching, until the sub door closes behind you.

The inside of the Polar Tang is calm, quiet, and weirdly clean. After the wild noise of Kid’s ship, it’s like walking into a library, if libraries smelled like antiseptic and steel.

Bepo meets you at the entrance with the banner still in his paws.

“Welcome aboard, Y/N! Captain said you’re not allowed to do any chores. And also that we have to ‘give you space’ but I don’t know what that means!”

“Thanks, Bepo,” you giggle “He’s just being dramatic.”

“I heard that” comes Law’s voice from down the hallway.

You walk toward it, dragging your bag behind you, and turn the corner to find him already leaning against the wall, arms crossed, trying to look bored.

He looks at you for one second too long.

You raise an eyebrow “What?”

“You’re five minutes late.”

“I know, Kid was being… Kid. But I’ll make up for it.” You smirk.

He glances away “Good.”

You roll your eyes and keep walking “So what’s the plan? Books? Tea? Staring at walls in silence?”

“I made a schedule.”

You freeze “You… what?”

He pulls a folded paper from his coat pocket “It includes meals, reading time, coffee breaks, and precisely two hours of optional nap time.”

You stare “You made me a day plan?”

“It’s important to have structure.”

You press your lips together “You’re such a weirdo.”

“You’re the one who dates me. And I’m the most normal one here and out there.”

You both smirk.

Later you’re in his room. Wrapped in one of his giant coats. Reading.

Law’s on the couch across from you. Also reading. Except he’s definitely not reading anymore because he keeps glancing over the top of the book every ten seconds.

Finally, you sigh and close yours “Okay. What is it?”

“…What?”

“You’re staring.”

“I am not.”

“You are definitely staring.”

He shuts his book and leans back “You smell like Kid.”

You blink. Then grin “Oh my god. Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Law…”

He mutters something under his breath and gets up, walking over to you. He plucks the coat off your shoulders, drops it on the floor, and replaces it with his own. It smells like clean linen and ink and something you’ve decided is just “him”.

You blink up at him, amused.

He leans down, cups your chin, and kisses you slow and deliberate.

When he pulls back, he mumbles, “There. Better.”

“Still jealous, though.”

“Shut up.”

You laugh and curl into his coat, dragging him down beside you on the bed.

It’s quiet. Warm. Comfortable.

This is his love language. Quiet touches. Shared books. Little things that say, you matter.

He tucks you close, arm around your waist, whispering almost shyly, “Don’t fall asleep yet. You haven’t had coffee.”

You smile against his chest.

“I don’t need coffee. I have you.”

He groans softly “That was awful.”

“You loved it.”

“…Yeah.”

You wake up warm, tucked under smooth sheets. Everything smells like fresh cotton and old paper.

Law is still asleep behind you, breathing steady against the back of your neck.

He’s the kind of sleeper that holds on without meaning to, one arm around your middle, the other curled loosely near your head like a shield.

You shift a little.

The grip tightens instantly.

“…It’s not time yet” he mumbles, voice gravelly from sleep.

You smile, still half-asleep yourself “We have around twenty minutes.”

“That’s twenty minutes too soon.”

You laugh softly “You made the schedule, remember?”

He groans and presses his face into your shoulder “Mistake.”

You turn to face him. He’s got bed hair, soft eyes, and that quiet pout he doesn’t know he makes in the morning.

“You could just come with me, you know” you tease.

“No.” He closes his eyes again “He’s too loud. And he’s going to jump on me.”

“True.”

You brush a hand over his bangs, then kiss the spot between his brows “But I’ll miss you.”

His eyes open slowly. Golden brown, focused. Honest.

“…I’ll miss you too.”

You both lie there for a little longer before he finally sighs and sits up, stretching “Come on. I’ll walk you to the dock.”

The Thousand Sunny bobs cheerfully at the edge of the water. Luffy is already waving both arms like a windmill “Y/N! Y/N! I made snacks! Hurry before Usopp eats them!”

You shake your head, laughing.

Law stands beside you, hands in his coat pockets, watching like he’s preparing for surgery. His mouth is a flat line, his shoulders a little too stiff.

“He’s… excited” you offer carefully.

“He’s loud.”

“You said that already.”

“He’s going to drop you.”

“I’ll survive.”

“…Unlikely.”

You nudge him with your elbow “You’re allowed to be annoyed. Just don’t kill him.”

Law exhales through his nose, not quite a laugh “No promises.”

You look up at him and smile softly “You know, Kid yelled the whole time when I left. You’re kind of… the opposite.”

“I don’t yell” he says, insulted.

“No, I know. You… hold it all in.”

He glances at you, eyes unreadable “Is that a bad thing?”

You shake your head “No. It’s a you thing.”

You lean up on your toes and kiss him. Slow. Thoughtful. Long enough to make Luffy groan loudly in the distance.

“STOP KISSING, START WALKING!”

You both ignore him for a second longer.

When you pull away, Law presses something into your hand, a folded note. You blink.

“What’s this?”

“A list.”

You open it and read: “Come back safe. Drink water. Don’t fall off the ship. Don’t forget me.”

You smile so wide it almost hurts.

“Romantic and bossy at the same time” you tease.

He shrugs “I multitask”

You take a few steps away, then pause and turn.

“Hey, Law?”

“…Yeah?”

“I’ll come back. I always do.”

He doesn’t smile. But his voice is soft.

“I know.”

You barely make it onto the Sunny before Luffy tackles you in a flying hug.

“YOU’RE HERE!!!” he shouts, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like you’re a piece of treasure he thought might vanish.

“Luffy! Breathing! Air!” you wheeze, laughing as he spins you in a circle.

The crew just watches fondly, like they’ve seen this a hundred times before.

“You’re late!” Luffy declares, finally setting you down.

“I’m literally on time.”

“But I missed you!”

You open your mouth to reply, but he suddenly cups your cheeks, squishing them “Do you smell like Law?! Ew!”

You grin “He gave me a coat.”

“I’M BURNING IT.”

Later he gives you a tour of the ship again like it’s your first time.

“Here’s your room! Just kidding, you can sleep in my hammock!”

“This is the kitchen—Sanji said I can’t cook anything, but I might have made snacks.”

“This is where Usopp and I tried to make a rocket once! It almost worked!”

He’s chaos on legs, grabbing your hand and dragging you from one spot to the next with endless energy.

But the moment you say, “Luffy, slow down” he stops instantly and looks back at you, worried.

“You okay?”

You blink “Yeah. I just want to be with you. You don’t have to impress me. And I’ve been on this ship thousands of times.”

He tilts his head, smile softening “I know. I just wanna show you stuff. ‘Cause you’re mine.”

You raise an eyebrow “Part mine.”

He frowns, dramatic “Don’t say that!”

You laugh and tug him down to sit on the deck. The stars are starting to show. The ocean sways under the ship like a giant heartbeat.

You lie back.

He flops down next to you, arms behind his head.

“I like this” he says.

“Just lying here?”

“Yeah. With you. It feels like the end of a good meal.”

You turn your head to look at him “That’s your best way of describing love, huh?”

“Yup!” He grins “Warm, full, and happy.”

You nudge him “You’re getting good at this.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

“On who?”

He grins wider “On you.”

Later that night you’re curled in his hammock, swaying gently. Luffy’s tangled up with you, head on your chest, arms around your waist, snoring softly.

For someone who never stops moving, he sleeps like he never wants to let go.

You brush a hand through his hair.

“I’ll come back” you whisper, though he’s already dreaming.

He mumbles something.

You lean down.

“Luffy?”

“…Don’t go too long.”

Your heart twists.

“I won’t” you promise.

You’re still on the Sunny in the morning, sitting on the edge of the deck with your legs swinging over the side, sun warming your face.

Luffy’s beside you, leaning against the railing with a toothy grin, snacking on meat like nothing in the world could ever go wrong.

Then you hear it.

A mechanical thunk and a soft hum of teleportation.

You glance back.

Law steps onto the deck with his hands in his pockets. Kid is right behind him, arms crossed, face unreadable. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

Luffy waves like it’s a reunion party “You’re late!”

“We weren’t invited” Law deadpans.

“Still late.”

You turn to them both, heart already in your throat.

“You guys came to fight over who gets the next turn?” you ask, even though you already know.

Law shrugs, casual on the outside “I assumed the coin toss would happen again.”

“Yeah,” Luffy says “Let’s flip it! Where’s the coin?! I'm going to win this time!”

You hold up your hand.

“No.”

They both pause. Even Luffy blinks at you.

Kid doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His jaw’s tight. That angry glint in his eye is gone, replaced by something more dangerous, quiet.

And that’s what gets you.

Because Kid is never quiet. He’s yelling, cursing, stomping, alive.

And right now he looks like someone who’s afraid if he opens his mouth, he’ll say something he can’t take back.

You step forward, past Law, past Luffy.

“I’m not flipping a coin this time,” you say softly “I’m going with Kid.”

His head jerks a little, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“I said something dumb last time,” you continue “I thought I was being funny. But you’ve barely looked at me since then. You haven’t said a single thing, and that’s… not like you.”

He stays silent.

You step even closer, just a few feet away now.

“I think I hurt you. And if I did… I’m sorry.”

Finally, his jaw unclenches. His voice comes out rough, like it’s been held back too long.

“You didn’t hurt me” he says, not meeting your eyes.

“Then what?”

He looks at you and shrugs, like it’s not a big deal.

“I just don’t like when the person I’d rip the sea apart for calls herself something I have to share.”

Your heart cracks and stitches at the same time.

Before you can say anything, Luffy steps forward and grins.

“Okay!” he says “Then it’s Kid’s turn!”

Law doesn’t argue either. He just gives you a soft look. A knowing one.

“…a week each?” he says, not to Kid, but to you.

You nod and smile softly “That would be great.”

As you walk back toward the dock with Kid, he finally speaks again.

“…You don’t have to come back with me, you know.”

You look up “I want to.”

He looks away, ears a little red “…Good.”

Behind you, Luffy waves “BYE! DON’T DO TOO MUCH KISSING WITHOUT ME!”

Law just mutters something under his breath about idiots and walks away.

But in that silence, those few moments where nobody argues, nobody fights, you know that they understand. Not just you. Not just their place in your world. But they understand each other.

Even if they’d never say it out loud.

[hhhwnr]

ꨄNot about knowing — S.R

masterlist + navigation

author’s note: fluffy little something about a brainiac reader who “matches Spencer’s freak”. I’m new to writing on Tumblr and in English (which isn’t my first language), so please be kind. I’m open to suggestions or feedback, as long as it’s respectful :)

genre: fluff/comfort word count: 770

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader (established relationship)

warnings: none ! He talks, you listen.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Spencer never believed that there’s a reliable and accurate way to measure intelligence.

While he was, indeed, a “genius” by society’s standards — IQ of 187, reading twenty thousand words per minute, high school graduate before he could hit puberty, eidetic memory along with 3 PhD’s ans 3 BA’s. But despite all that, he was always modest — sometimes awkward — about his achievements.

“She must be a hell of a woman to keep up with you,” Morgan once teased, back when you and Spencer had just started dating.

Spencer appreciated that you were, in fact, able to keep up with him and his whirlwind mind — and so did the rest of his team. But they might have been underestimating how much.

Maybe it was because Spencer didn’t talk about you much, choosing to keep your connection private, something sacred. Or maybe it was because he himself hadn’t yet seen you in full force — not because you were hiding, but because you were focused on making him embrace everything that made him extraordinary.

You weren’t a certified genius, yet Spencer never made you feel lesser than him. You were brilliant in your own right — well rounded, curious, thoughtful. You had a wide range of hobbies, high intellectual pursuits, but what mattered most to Spencer was that you were endlessly open-minded.

You and Spencer learned a lot from each other, always growing, and your relationship never felt like a competition.

Sure, he beat you at chess three times in a row. But by the fourth game, you’d reworked your entire strategy, and when he lost, he stared at the board with a satisfied smile.

“A crashing defeat,” he called it.

And he meant it with admiration.

Spencer breathed facts — erratic, beautiful facts — whether it was about the unique ratios in your coffee or historical inaccuracies in movies. And while most people would’ve tuned him out, you didn’t. Even if you already knew what he was saying, you listened. You wanted to listen. Because he mattered.

And you never wanted him to feel like you’d be happier if he just shut up.

Just like now.

The light low and golden, the hum of the city outside your window barely breaking the stillness. Spencer is tucked against you, the collar of his shirt wrinkled, his tie long discarded on the floor. He’s tired — not just physically, but in the way that settles in the stiffness of his shoulders when a day has demanded too much and offered too little in return.

You run your fingers through his curls gently, and that’s all it takes.

“Did you know,” he begins, voice hoarse from hours of disuse, “that the Library of Alexandria had a policy where every ship that docked in their port was required to hand over any scrolls or books on board so they could be copied before being returned?”

You smile softly. You did know. You could recite the footnotes from memory. But you don’t say that.

“No way,” you whisper, letting the wonder hang in your tone. “That’s kind of genius. I mean, inconvenient, but clever.”

Spencer shifts, just enough to rest his chin near your collarbone. “Exactly. It was one of the first recorded efforts to centralize and preserve knowledge — though some argue it was more about control than curiosity. The original texts were often kept, and copies returned.”

You hum thoughtfully, encouraging him. “I wonder how many ideas were saved that way. Or lost.”

His eyes light up, the exhaustion peeling away just a bit. “Lost, mostly. Fires, conquests. Caesar’s siege of Alexandria in 48 BCE damaged a lot. But some of that knowledge, in fragments, still exists today — quotes in other texts, secondary references. It’s like… like archaeology of thought.”

He talks for a while. About lost knowledge, about how fragile history is when it’s left in the hands of people who don’t value it. His voice fades and swells like a tide, and you nod along, ask the right questions at the right time, follow his rhythm even when it’s familiar.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve already read the same paper he’s referencing, once annotated it in a grad seminar, or that your bookshelf has a volume with his exact phrasing highlighted.

Because this isn’t about facts. It’s about him unwinding, about being heard.

So you stay there, half in shadow, fingers in his hair, and you listen — like it’s the first time you’re hearing about Alexandria, like he’s handing you something fragile, and you’re lucky just to hold it.

Thank you for reading ! ♥︎

[formulaonecrumbs]

helloo!!! a story where oscar is celebrating a win at a random club and ends up having a one-night stand with the reader, whom he just met? she ends up getting pregnant, and oscar struggles to explain to his family that he's going to be the father of a child with a woman he barely knows. at first, they scold him for being so careless, but over time, he and the reader grow closer, start dating, and his family starts supporting the pregnancy?

sunday night, monday reality 🤰

Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: a one night stand turned pregnancy ruins blesses their lives. now they have to navigate it while barely knowing each other.

warnings: one-night stand, accidental pregnancy, co-parenting to lovers, brief mention of alcohol

A/N: i’m not gonna lie when i read the request, i cackled cause imagine it actually happened 😭😭 one of the single f1 drivers gets some random one night stand pregnant and is just a parent now. that’s so funny to me. anyways, THANK U ANON!!! requests are always appreciated. i hope this isn’t too boring, i tried making it as funny as possible. enjooyyyy, love u bitches 💋💋

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

you never planned on oscar piastri being the father of your child.

because it was supposed to be just one drink.

just one, to celebrate the win. a little toast with his team, a quick “cheers” before disappearing into the night like usual. oscar piastri didn’t even like clubs that much. too loud, too sweaty, too many people trying to pretend they weren’t watching him.

but there he was, two drinks deep, standing in some overpriced monaco club that smelled like vodka and rich people’s perfume.

and then there you were.

honestly, he wasn’t even sure how it happened. one minute he was trying to order water (because he’d already messed up his post-race hydration schedule), and the next, he was laughing at something you said about the guy dancing like a malfunctioning robot.

you weren’t a fan. didn’t even realize who he was until your friend elbowed you in the ribs and whispered something about “that f1 guy.”

you just shrugged. “cool. he’s got nice teeth.”

that made him laugh. really laugh. like, the kind that makes his shoulders shake.

by 3 a.m., you were sitting in a cab with him, giggling like teenagers, way too sober to blame it on alcohol. you both knew what was happening. neither of you said it out loud.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it was fun. reckless. the kind of story people only half-believe when you tell it later.

he left before breakfast. not in a rude way, just… life goes on.

until yours didn’t.

two pink lines. three deep breaths. one panicked text.

you: so. uh. i’m pregnant?

you didn’t expect him to reply so fast. or at all, honestly.

but he did.

osc: wait. what?

followed by a very long phone call, one awkward coffee meetup, and him pacing your living room with his hair sticking up in every direction like he’d just driven through a tornado.

“okay. okay. we’re gonna—this is fine. i mean, not fine. but not not fine? wow. okay.”

you just blinked at him. “you done?”

he nodded. “yeah. no. maybe. i have no idea.”

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

telling his parents was… fun.

“i got someone pregnant,” he blurted out before they even sat down. classic oscar.

his mum dropped her fork.

his dad blinked exactly once, then said, “didn’t they teach you basic health in school?”

“yes, dad. thanks for the support.”

they freaked out a bit. okay, more than a bit. but he didn’t blame them. he was freaking out too.

he barely knew you. he couldn’t even remember what your favorite color was. but here he was, scrolling baby name websites at 2 a.m. and texting you dumb things like:

osc: what if we name it after a track?

you: if you suggest monza one more time i’m blocking you.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

slowly, you both figured it out.

he started showing up. not in a “look at me, i’m a hero” way. just… he wanted to be there. he came to appointments. brought snacks. made fun of the baby books. (except the one with cartoons. he actually liked that one.)

you weren’t dating. not officially. but he made you laugh. you made him feel normal. and when he talked to your belly and got kicked mid-sentence, he swore it was on purpose.

“this baby’s already got sass. takes after you.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re the one who talks to unborn humans like they’re your teammate.”

“strategy is important,” he said seriously. “i need to build trust.”

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

his family came around eventually.

his mum knitted a tiny hat. his dad bought a car seat and refused to let oscar install it wrong. they invited you for dinner, asked questions, started smiling a little more when they said “baby.”

you and oscar grew closer without really meaning to. it wasn’t romantic movie-level stuff. more like inside jokes, shared ice cream, and him falling asleep on your couch with his hand on your belly like a protective raccoon.

and then one night, you kissed him.

neither of you said anything about it. just… kept kissing.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

by the time the baby arrived, everything felt different.

he was calmer. more grounded. still chaotic, but in a “dad who has the diaper bag ready five hours early” kind of way.

you were exhausted, emotional, and slightly murderous toward anyone who told you to “just relax.”

but when he held the baby for the first time—eyes wide, face soft—you saw something shift.

he looked at you and whispered, “i think i love you.”

you blinked. “you think?”

he laughed. “okay, fine. i know. but i was trying to be cool about it.”

you smiled, tears in your eyes. “you failed miserably.”

turns out, unexpected love hits different.

especially when it comes with midnight feedings, matching pajamas, and a baby who somehow has his exact eyebrows.

(“they’re aggressive little eyebrows,” you said once. “they’re powerful,” he argued back, dead serious.)

he learned how to swaddle like a pro. changed diapers half-asleep. sang lullabies that were really just off-key versions of old race radio messages. and somehow, through all the chaos, he made you laugh even when you felt like crying.

you never planned on oscar piastri being the father of your child.

never planned on him staying. or falling. or building a life around someone who’d only been a stranger at a bar.

but damn, he made it kind of hard not to fall for him.

especially when he looked at you like you were the best win of his career.

and maybe—just maybe—you were.

THE END :>

[rafesangelita]

♡ having a pregnancy scare wasn’t on rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader’s to do list anytime soon.. but alas, here they are waiting to see if two pink lines will change the trajectory of their lives forever.

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of a breeding kink lol, super sweet fluff, slight humor, lots of crying

a/n: this is my not-so-subtle way of introducing babydaddy!rafe to my blog (i’ve been reading a lot of babydaddy!rafe lately.. yum) also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the ‘₊˚⊹♡ babydaddy!rafe x pogue!sweetheart!reader’ tag of this post!

w/c: 1.3k

“a-are you sure you’re late?” rafe was pacing back and forth, tears pricking your eyes as you flipped through your little calendar book. “yes! i look at my calendar everyday rafe, it’s been three weeks!” you sniffled, checking for the millionth time. rafe joined you on your bed, realizing he probably wasn’t making you feel any better if he was freaking out too. “hey..” he cupped your chin, “it’s gonna be okay, baby. what do you need me to do? ‘want me to go get some tests from the store?” you cried even more, the whole thing becoming too real all at once. “i don’t know! i don’t know what to do, ray!”

he sighed, holding you as you wept in his arms. “oh, baby,” rafe rubbed your back, “you know i’m going to take care of us, of you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. he wiped the tears from your eyes, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i know.. it’s just— this is so new, and even though we don’t have a for sure answer yet, i feel like i really am. you know.. pregnant?” saying it out loud made rafe’s heart drop to his stomach. you saw the way his expression softened, his eyes flickering down to where you two held hands.

while it shouldn’t be too surprising, considering you two never use protection.. it’s still a delicate matter that rafe took very seriously. “am i gonna sound crazy if i say i hope that you are?” you took a breath, stroking the side of rafe’s face. “no. i want it too.” letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he pulled you against his chest, embracing you once again. “why don’t we find out? ‘go to the pharmacy and get some tests?” you nodded, the anticipation already feeling unbearable. “okay.” you pulled away, getting under your knitted blanket.

“you’re not going with me?” rafe laughed. “are you joking? the owner has known me forever. if he see’s us buying a pregnancy test, he’ll—” you lowered your voice down to a whisper, “he’ll know what we’ve been doing..” your cheeks heated at the thought of the sweet old man who’s known you for all of your life checking you out for a test that indicates you’ve been doing a lot more than just baking cookies. “baby, if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, and far away from any kind of civilization, everyone on this island would know what we’ve been doing.” he winked.

at his words, you shooed him out of your camper as a giggle escaped your lips. he wasn’t wrong. rafe knew all the ways to make you scream and tremble in pure bliss. it felt like forever since rafe had been out, but one glance at the heart shaped clock on your wall, and it had only been ten minutes. you laid on your back, fingertips skimming your tummy. imagining a baby, half of you, and half of rafe, a result of two worlds, both full of so much love, colliding into one and making the most beautiful creation you were sure to ever see, made a smile grace your pretty face.

now you were thinking about a nursery, wondering if you’d be painting it baby pink or powder blue. either color was fine with you. sitting up, you looked around your camper, really seeing just how small it was. you and rafe barely fit in here together, let alone with a little baby that’ll eventually grow and want to run around. now you felt sad at the indication that you might have to move out of the only place you’ve ever known. this would change your life, but with rafe by your side you felt more ready than ever. just as you were going to call rafe and politely tell him to hurry up, he walked through the door.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, so i just grabbed one of each.” rafe gave you the bag, plopping down next to you. there was about ten different tests in there, including a lot of the snacks you’d been craving over the last week. sour gummy bears, chocolate, and spicy chips mostly. taking out a pink box, you read the instructions before looking back at rafe who already had his full attention on you. “can you come with me?” without hesitation, rafe helped you up and guided you to the bathroom. “alright..” he leaned against the doorframe, watching as you unwrapped the test.

“i can’t really pee if you’re looking..” rafe had zoned out, thinking about house hunting already and wondering what kind of car seat would be the safest for a baby. “right, i’m sorry.” he turned around, swallowing the lump in his throat. rafe needed the confirmation just as much as you did, his stomach doing somersaults as he nervously bit his lip. “you okay?” he asked. you hummed, peeing on the stick before setting it down on a piece of toilet paper. washing your hands shortly after, you and rafe left the test in the bathroom as you waited in silence.

“my heart is beating so fast right now.” you laughed, on the verge of tears as rafe rubbed circles into the flesh of your thigh. “i want you to know something..” rafe whispered, “whatever those test results come out to; negative or positive, we’re going to be okay. i don’t want you to worry about a thing, alright?” your chin wobbled as you nodded, your head falling in the curve of his neck. you stayed quiet for the rest of the time, the timer on rafe’s phone going off. “oh, god..” you whimpered, motioning for rafe to grab the test. “don’t look at it, just bring it over!” you called out.

rafe walked back with his eyes closed, nearly bumping into the wall as his hands trembled with excitement. “where are you?” he kept his eyes screwed shut, in which you followed suit. “i’m right here.” you squeaked out, holding onto his wrists. “on three we’re gonna look down.” you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “okay, i’m ready.” both of you smiled. “one, two, three—” both of you looked down, rafe jumping and running out of your camper as you stared down at the sight of two, very prominent, pink lines. rafe was shouting outside, the sound making you laugh as you took a seat on the couch.

“oh my god.” rafe poked his head in, your teary eyes meeting his. thankfully, he was able to read the room and calmed down a bit. “oh my god.” he repeated, kneeling down in front of you. “are you okay? are you happy?” rafe rubbed the side of your thighs, his touch providing a comfort like no other. “yes! i just can’t believe it..” you hugged him, his arms wrapping around your waist. “we have a lot of planning to do.” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. rafe could already see it. the white house, the white picket fence, both of you were already two steps closer to your dreams becoming a reality.

“yeah, we do,” he agreed, “let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?” you smiled, cupping his face. “i love you so much, this is crazy.” he kissed your lips before taking the test in his hands again. “a whole baby..” you were in utter disbelief. “maybe i should take the rest of the tests?” you stood up, taking the plastic bag with you to the bathroom. by the time you finished, the sun was already setting, both you and rafe staring at the approximately ten tests in front of you. all positive. “looks like we took the breeding kink a little too seriously, huh?” you looked up at rafe through his reflection in the mirror. “that was a good one.”

[izzih22]

I hope to wake up to this request 🫰🏾

Any chance you would consider Azzi telling Paige she’s pregnant with their 1st child?

Chapter 1

You’re What?!

Note: yall finally got me to do pazzi moms smh also im sorry it’s short but this was difficult😂

Azzi had been pacing in the kitchen for ten minutes.

Not the anxious kind of pacing the holy crap, how do I tell her this without combusting kind.

The little white box sat on the counter. Wrapped in a UConn onesie that said “Future Husky Coming Soon”, tucked inside a tiny gift bag.

She heard the shower shut off upstairs.

Paige was singing off-key, as usual and Azzi bit down a smile.

It felt like a dream. After six months of IUI attempts, medication, blood draws, failed tests, whispered prayers and late-night cuddles filled with cautious hope… it had finally happened.

She was pregnant.

And Paige, her over-the-top, extra, loving, ridiculous wife, was about to find out.

A few minutes later, Paige came bounding down the stairs, hair wet, skin glowing, still in her towel.

“Why do I smell coffee and secrets?” she asked, narrowing her eyes dramatically. “You’re up early for a Sunday. What’s goin’ on, Fudd?”

Azzi laughed and handed her the bag. “Just… open it.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Is this a trap? Am I gonna get glitter-bombed?”

“Open it,” Azzi said again, breath catching.

Paige rolled her eyes playfully and reached in and the second her fingers touched fabric, her brain caught up. She pulled out the onesie, read it once…

Twice…

Then froze.

Dead silent.

Azzi waited.

Paige’s eyes slowly lifted to meet hers, wide as the moon. “You’re… Azzi.”

Azzi nodded, voice breaking from the grin on her face. “I’m pregnant.”

There was a full beat of stunned silence and then Paige screamed.

Not out of fear. Not even a little.

Pure, unfiltered, bounce-off-the-walls joy.

“YOU’RE PREGNANT? YOU’RE FREAKING PREGNANT!?” Paige launched herself at Azzi, lifting her clean off the ground, spinning her in a circle before pulling her in for the most ridiculous, love-drenched kiss of her life.

Azzi giggled breathlessly. “Babe, I’m literally carrying our child maybe don’t yeet me across the room.”

“RIGHT. YES. SAFE. GENTLE.” Paige immediately set her down like she was made of porcelain. “Okay okay okay, new rules. No heavy lifting. No running. No looking too cute in public where people can stare at you and upset my pregnant wife and unborn child.”

Azzi blinked, laughing. “Those are your top three priorities?”

“Those are just the start,” Paige said, already pacing like she was coaching a championship game. “I’m baby-proofing the house. I’m buying ten pregnancy pillows. We’re getting a new car. I’m googling everything. Everything.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I’m spiraling in love, Azzi!” Paige shot back, grinning like a kid on Christmas. “You’re having our baby. I get to be a mom with you. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

Azzi’s eyes softened. “Yeah. I do.”

Paige stopped. She crossed back to her, slower now. Hands cradled Azzi’s waist, her thumbs pressing gently where her flat stomach sat between them.

“That’s our baby in there,” she whispered, awe in her voice. “Like… our baby.”

“I know,” Azzi murmured, leaning into her. “You’re gonna be the best mom.”

Paige’s eyes welled with emotion again, but this time she just laughed through it. “Damn right I am. Starting now.”

She dropped to her knees, pressed a kiss to Azzi’s belly. “Hi, little one. It’s me, the loud one. Your other mom is the smart, calm, pretty one. I’m the one who’s gonna teach you to hoop and embarrass you at school drop-off with music blasting from the car.”

Azzi covered her mouth, overcome.

Paige looked up at her, still grinning. “You feel okay? No nausea?”

“A little,” Azzi admitted. “I’ll probably want a nap soon.”

“Say less.” Paige stood up, kissed her forehead. “You’re not doing a single thing today. Couch. Blankets. Snacks. Netflix. Me worshipping you every thirty seconds.”

“You already do that.”

“Now it’s medically required.”

Azzi rolled her eyes affectionately, letting Paige guide her to the couch, wrapping her up in blankets and fluff like a queen. Paige flopped next to her, curled an arm around her waist, and rested her hand protectively over her stomach.

They sat like that, hearts full, future blooming.

“I love you,” Paige whispered.

“I love you more.”

“Impossible,” Paige said, grinning. “I’m literally in love with two people right now. I’m outnumbering you.”

Azzi laughed, soft and full of joy.

The journey hadn’t been easy. But this moment wild and loud and perfect was worth every second.

[ramp-it-up]

Captain. My Captain.

Mood

Summary: Steve has a kink. And you have the key.

Word count: 3.3 K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

A/N: This is a fic related to Call Me Captain When I... and comes right after Mood. It is also for @avengers-assemble-bingo. #KinkyBingo. This fulfills the square: Sir/Daddy Kink This is also part of @yenzys-lucky-charm Cranky, Grabby, Stabby, Oh My Challenge. Prompt: “just the tip I promise" *holds me down and fucks me full of cum.*” I'm deep in love with Steve and Libby. Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! This Steve curses, and he is also grumpy. Steve is weak for you but a bit of a control freak. Dominate Steve, Semi-public sex act, fingering, lots of dirty talk and verbal edging, literal edging, orgasm denial, Captain and Sir kink, size kink, praise oral (m receiving), raw p in v, creampie, aftercare, soft Steve after he cums. 😜

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

It started at the briefing.

Steve sat at the head of the table, full Captain mode. The stealth suit fit him like a second skin and you’d had to will your eyes forward more than once. His jaw was set, his focus sharp. Everyone else, Sam and a few others, listened while he laid out the plan to hunt the organization behind the ambush on your training op.

The bastards who hit you were already “neutralized,” though you had yet to learn what Steve meant by that. This mission was about the ones who’d sent them. 

The ones who thought they could touch you.

It was the first time you’d worked directly with him in the field.

You were paying attention. To the plan. To him. To the way his fingers curled tight around the table’s edge. The sharp crease between his brows. The way he looked at everyone else like their Captain, and looked at you like a man who’d memorized the sound you made when you broke.

Steve’s reactions to you had always been inconvenient, but they were especially volatile now, on a mission, in uniform, with your professionalism at risk. Hundreds of people called him Captain and Sir every day, but when you said them, it short-circuited something primal inside him.

You weren’t supposed to be under his command outside of the bedroom. But this time, you were. And he was doing everything in his power to keep his shit together.

That meant no time alone. No slipping. No touching. No relief. He even insisted that you get yourself off every night to counter the maddening effects of no contact between you, but you defied him.

“Respectfully, Sir, I don’t want to.”

He’d nearly broken then, but understood. Nothing felt better than you two together. He’d decided the same. Two weeks of self-control would be hell. But he’d endured worse.

You weren’t so sure you would last.

When he asked the room, “Any questions before we move?” his gaze locked on you, unflinching.

You tilted your head innocently.

“No, Sir.”

His breath hitched. Just enough that you noticed.

Sam started talking, but you didn’t hear a word. You were too busy watching Steve’s knuckles strain, his jaw tick, and the storm brewing behind his ice-blue eyes.

He was daring you to say it again.

You straightened, hands folded neatly, waiting for him to look away.

He didn’t.

After the briefing, you didn’t even make it three steps down the hall before his hand circled your arm, pulling you into the breakroom. Not rough, but firm enough that your heart stuttered.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, voice low.

You blinked up at him, all wide-eyed sweetness.

“What was what?”

“You know damn well.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Sir.” You leaned in, breath warm against his ear. 

“Didn’t mean to distract you, Captain.”

The growl that rumbled from his chest was the sound of a man fraying at the seams.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll bend you over the nearest tactical table.”

Your pulse fluttered. “Is that a threat or a promise, Sir?”

His hand drifted, barely brushing the curve of your ass and it was subtle, calculated, and electric enough to buckle your knees.

“You’re walking the line, Lieutenant.”

You lowered your gaze, fighting for control you didn’t want. 

“Apologies…”

He nodded, sharp and curt. Turned to go and you watched America’s Ass. You waited just long enough, then let the last word fall like a stone in water.

“…Captain.”

He froze. Just for a second. Shook his head and walked away.

But it didn’t end there.

On the jet, the tension only sharpened. You sat across from him, knees brushing, the hum of the engines a thin veil over the silence between you. The rest of the team prepped and chatted, oblivious.

Steve didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just watched you watch him. Your eyes dropped to his lap, tracing the outline of his cock beneath the suit. You licked your lips deliberately, remembering the weight and stretch of him.

You leaned forward, passing him a file, fingers brushing his on purpose.

“Here you go, Sir.”

Your voice was husky and he knew you were wet, and probably desperate for any contact with him. So he didn’t take the file from you.

Didn’t move.

Just stared at you, like he was one slip away from throwing you over his knee in front of God, country, and S.H.I.E.L.D.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice dark and tight.

You smiled, all sugar. “Yes, Sir.”

Steve’s jaw flexed as he turned to Sam, locking the need away with brutal discipline. You swallowed, steadying yourself. The mission came first.

It always did.

The mission’s success only sharpened the edge. By the time the gala rolled around, neither of you had cooled off, not even close. You’d basically begged him before the event. Your hands tangled in his shirt, your lips bruising his, your body pressed tight against his in the darkened corner of your quarters.

“Please,” you whispered. “Just the tip.”

Steve laughed against your mouth, but he’d pulled back, steady even with his pulse racing wild beneath your fingers. His hands cupped your face, thumbs sweeping over your swollen lips.

“We both know that just the tip would end up with me holding you down and fucking you full of cum, Libby.”

Your eyes rolled. “Please…”

Your wanton moan had him a hair’s breath from giving in. But you both still had a job to do.

“I want to take my time with you.” His voice was all gravel, thick with promise. “You’ll get all of me. But not now. Not like this.”

So you dressed for the gala, the ache between your thighs a constant reminder that Captain Rogers was still calling the shots. And you let him think he’d won right up until the Senator asked that question.

The man had the nerve to sidle up to you, drink in hand, charm dripping off him like oil, and ask what it was like to serve under Captain Rogers.

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, I always follow orders,” you said, slow and sweet. “Isn’t that right, Sir?”

You saw it, the way Steve’s glass froze halfway to his lips, the flicker of fire in his eyes, the sharp clench of his jaw as he forced down a cough to cover the sound of his own restraint breaking.

Five minutes later, he excused himself. You followed.

The hallway was empty. His hand caught your wrist the second you were close enough, pulling you flush against him, pressing your back to the wall. You were so wet.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

You blinked up at him, lashes fluttering. 

“Whatever do you mean, Sir?”

His breath ghosted your lips. 

“You think it’s funny? Teasing me like that. In front of him.”

You smiled angelically. 

“I think it’s hot. Watching you try to keep control when all you want to do is take me apart.”

His hands tightened against the wall.

“You know what happens when I lose control, Libby.”

You smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

His hand slid down your arm, fingers curling tight around your wrist as he dragged you into the nearest supply closet. The door clicked shut, the air was charged, and you could barely breathe.

“You wanted this,” he growled pinning you back against the shelves. His hands roamed, hiking your dress higher and higher until his fingers brushed bare skin. 

“You’ve been begging for it since the damn briefing.”

Your breath hitched, but your voice stayed steady. 

“Still am.”

The second the word Captain left your mouth, his control shattered and he was on you.

His hand covered your mouth to muffle the sounds, the other sliding between your thighs, fingers slipping deep, parting your folds roughly, desperate to feel you. He swallowed every broken noise you couldn’t hold back, his mouth finding your neck, your shoulder, your breast. His teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, and his lips branding you.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, voice cracking open at the edges.

You moaned, helpless against the waves of pleasure.

His fingers pumped harder, faster. His control slipping with every stroke. His fingers worked you harder, faster, until your legs trembled and your world seemed to bend around you.

Then, right before you came, he stopped.

“You wanna play games, Sweetheart?” His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “You better be ready for the consequences.”

When he pulled back, he held you steady, smoothing your dress back down with those same hands that had almost wrecked you. His lips ghosted over your temple, while what he did still vibrated through both of you.

“You okay?” 

You swallowed. You couldn’t even be mad at him because you knew how much you’d teased him.

“Yeah, I….you. That was…” your voice trailed off. “...Are you?”

His smirk was pure sin. “Nope.”

You laughed, breathless and wrecked. 

“You know it would help if you didn’t look so damn smug.”

“Oh, Sweetheart, you haven’t seen smug yet. Wait until I give you at least three orgasms.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

“So you keep telling me.”

—----

The second the gala ended, you’d expected him to break. To drag you into the nearest car, or corner you in some dark hallway before the flashbulbs had even cooled.

But no.

Steve kept his distance.  

All night, you’d felt his eyes track you across the room, the heat of it searing through the silk of your dress, the weight of his control stretched so tight it was a wonder he hadn’t snapped.

But he never touched you again. Never slipped. Not once.

He even sent you home in a separate car. Your heart couldn’t take it, but you knew there was more to come. And it was long past midnight when the knock came. You opened your door, heart already pounding, and there he stood.

His shirt sleeves were rolled, the tie hanging loose around his neck, his jacket nowhere to be seen. His restraint had finally cracked, written all over his face. But his voice stayed low, even.

“Pack your bag,” he said. “Now.”

You didn’t ask where. You didn’t need to. You just obeyed.

Ten minutes later, you were in his car, the city lights blurring past the windows, your thighs pressed tightly together. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at you, hands flexing on the wheel like he was holding himself together by the thinnest thread.

By the time the car stopped,  a quiet, private safehouse on the edge of the city, your skin was flushed, your pulse wild.

The door had barely shut behind you when you felt it.

His hands.

One gripping your jaw, tilting your face up, the other on your waist.

“You think you can tease me like that,” he murmured, voice like gravel, “and I’ll just sit back and let it slide?”

Your breath hitched. “I wasn’t teasing, Sir.”

His eyes darkened, and the corner of his mouth lifted. not a smile, more like a warning.

“You don’t get to play innocent. Not after two weeks of ‘Yes, Sir’ and that sweet little tilt of your head. You’ve been testing me since the briefing.” 

His thumb brushed your bottom lip.

“And you knew exactly what you were doing.”

You felt the heat pool low in your belly, your legs weak beneath the weight of his words, the sharpness of his stare.

“On your knees.”

The order sent a shiver through you and you dropped without hesitation, hands resting on your thighs, head tilted back to look at him, waiting.

Wanting.

He watched you for a long, heavy moment, jaw tight, chest rising slowly.

“Look at you,” he muttered, shaking his head, more to himself than to you. 

“So damn pretty when you’re obedient.”

When he undid his belt, his fly, and freed his cock, you swallowed hard. The size of him, the sheer weight and length, was always a shock to your system no matter how many times you’d seen him.

You glanced up through your lashes, the shape of a question lingering in your throat.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. 

“You’ve been begging for this with every word you’ve said for the last two weeks. Work for it.”

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat, the heft, the impossible stretch of him. Your lips parted, and when you took him in, his breath hissed through his teeth, one hand threading to your scalp.

“Good girl,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek, the barest encouragement as you started to bob on his cock, lips stretched wide and drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

“Look at you. Captain’s perfect little mouth.”

You worked him slow at first, savoring the low growl of his approval, the way his hips flexed, controlled even now. But when you hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him, wide-eyed, his control cracked.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

His hand tightened on your head, hips pressing forward until you took him deeper, until tears dropped from your eyes. But you didn’t pull back. You wanted this, you wanted to watch him fall apart.

When he finally eased out of your mouth, his thumb wiped your lips, tracing the slick curve.

“Up,” he ordered softly, and you obeyed, rising to your feet. His hands were on you the second you stood, spinning you, pressing you against the nearest wall, his large body caging you in completely.

“You like making me lose control, don’t you?” he rasped against your ear, his hard length grinding against your ass through the thin fabric of your panties. 

“You like knowing no one else gets to see me like this.”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, Sir.”

His hand slid between your thighs, fingers finding you soaked and ready.

“Of course you do. You’ve been dripping for me all damn night.” 

His mouth brushed the shell of your ear, voice dark and ragged. 

“And I’ve been thinking about bending you over every flat surface I could find. About splitting you open on my cock until you forget your own name.”

You whimpered, grinding back against him, desperate.

“You wanted me to break, sweetheart?” 

His hand gripped your hip, his other one sliding between your legs again, fingers skating through your slick. 

“You’ve got me. But you’re going to pay for every second you spent torturing me.”

He didn’t take you to bed. Not yet.

Instead, he lifted you, like you weighed nothing at all,  and carried you to the couch, settling you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his hips, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You did, your gaze locking with his as he guided you down onto him, slowly, filling you inch by impossible inch until you were gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he groaned, holding you still once you’d taken all of him. 

“You feel so fucking tight. So goddamn perfect around me.”

You clung to him, barely able to breathe, stretched to the limit. It hurt so good.

“You wanted your Captain,” he whispered against your lips. “Now you’ve got him.”

And then he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts that pushed you to the edge of madness, his mouth capturing every moan, every broken plea you couldn’t hold back. And you knew, right then, there’d be no walking straight tomorrow.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—---

You lost track of how many times he made you cum. His mouth, his hands, the punishing rhythm of his hips. Every part of him wrecked you with single-minded precision.

But it wasn’t until long after your voice was hoarse from moaning his name, long after your body trembled from overstimulation, that Steve softened.

He shifted beneath you, easing out of your body with care, murmuring something low and tender against your skin. You couldn’t make out the words because your brain was a fog of pleasure and endorphins. But the gentle tone was enough to settle you.

Strong arms gathered you close, one hand cradling the back of your head as he carried you to the bed like you were precious. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the salt of his skin, the faintest scent of sweat and his cologne.

He laid you down carefully and climbed in beside you. His big hands smoothed over your hips, your thighs, his thumbs catching on the marks he’d left behind.

You didn’t mind them. You liked that you’d wear the shape of him tomorrow. On your skin. Between your legs. In the slight limp no one would question, but he would know.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, still dazed, sated and warm. “Yes, Sir.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled the blanket up over both of you.  

“Didn’t mean to go so hard,” he murmured, brushing your curls back from your forehead. 

“Just… you get under my skin, Libby. Make me forget how to think.”

“You didn’t forget how to think,” you whispered, tracing the curve of his bicep, the hard line of his chest. “You planned that.”

His answering grin pressed against your shoulder. 

“Maybe a little.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he asked, “And you knew what you were doing at the gala.”

You smirked against his throat. 

“You liked it.”

Steve groaned and pulled you tighter. 

“Liked it too much. Nearly lost it when you said Sir like that in front of the Senator.”

You laughed softly. 

“You like it when I say it in private more?”

His hand slid to the base of your spine. His grip was warm. 

“I like it when you say it when you're wrecked. When you’re trying not to come and you whisper it like a prayer. That’s when it ruins me.”

The silence that followed was full of heat, but not urgency. The hunger had been sated. What remained was the closeness. The wanting still there, but quiet now. Like embers under ash.

You moved and winced, the soreness sparking up.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s just that you’re huge,” the words tumbled out unfiltered.

Steve stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “No. Not even close. Just… I’m still adjusting. In my soul.”

He laughed then, head falling back, the sound full and rich and happy. It shook the bed, and you smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed.

His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could look at you. 

“Who knew you were this much of a brat?”

You gave him a sleepy, satisfied smile.

“Only for you, Captain. My Captain.”

His expression softened completely. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and for a second, there was something deeper than heat in the space between you.

Something like devotion.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “Every time. Before, during, after. I love you Libby.”

You leaned into the touch. 

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know, Steve. I love you too.”

And with that, he kissed you, slow and lingering, nothing like the bruising hunger from earlier. This was patient. Tender. The kind of kiss that promised more.

Not just in bed, but in the quiet spaces between missions and chaos. In the in-between moments where your heartbeat slowed and the world finally held still.

Eventually, you drifted off, curled against him, your leg thrown over his thigh, his hand resting on the curve of your hip.

And even in sleep, you felt it, his presence wrapped around you like a shield. Steady. Unshakable. Yours.

Captain. Sir. Steve.

All of him.

——

Read Payback

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊˚── Request: "Omg, I love your actor AU for Sevika x Reader! Can I request something? How about Sevika trying to figure out if reader actually likes women? And how would reader pick up on the signs that Sevika actually wants her? It's like some yearning for both of them"

Word Count: 1.4K Content/Warnings: sfw, loser!sevika lol, fem reader (referred to w fem pronouns), bartender!reader, yearning, pining, and the likes, sevika doesn't know what to do when she has an actual crush on someone A/N: thank you so much for this request, anon! this was so fun to write, i love clueless sev and i hope you enjoy it, too <3

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

 ──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika certainly isn’t known for being easy to read

୨ৎ When regarding others, she wears an expression of indifference at best, and scathing anger at worst

୨ৎ At this point, you’d take the scathing anger over whatever the fuck she regarded you with now

୨ৎ Disdain? Disgust? Confusion?

୨ৎ You can’t figure out what it is, and you’re completely lost on what it is you’ve done to deserve it; all you’re sure of is that Sevika cannot stand you

୨ৎ And to make matters worse, you’ve had a thing for her since your first day at The Last Drop 

୨ৎ You just can’t seem to shake it

୨ৎ Not when she walks into the bar, her strong jaw set and her gait unyieldingly confident as she makes her way to the booth in the back corner that everyone knows belongs to her

୨ৎ Not when she’s dealing another round of cards after winning poker for the fifth time, her wicked chuckle rumbling low and smooth, her mechanical arm glinting in the neon lights as cards fly out of its sharp claws

୨ৎ Not even when you approach the table to take everyone’s orders and her eyes are on you like a hawk, brows knit together in… whatever the hell it was she was feeling toward you

୨ৎ She doesn’t like you- that much has been made adamantly clear- but why still she seems so interested in you, you had no idea

୨ৎ You try your best not to let it bother you, which gets increasingly hard when all of a sudden, she starts to hover

୨ৎ It’s like she’s going out of her way to piss herself off with your presence

୨ৎ Coming up to the bar to order her drinks instead of letting you come to her, and standing around for damn-near half an hour before she finally leaves

୨ৎ Hanging around past close, watching intently as you stack chairs and wipe tables whilst chatting with your coworkers

୨ৎ And Janna, not to mention the way she plays helicopter mom when you speak to Jinx 

୨ৎ “Dude, your fake is so bad. I’m never taking it. Stop trying.”

୨ৎ “Nah. You’ll throw me a bone one day, toots.”

୨ৎ You snicker as you continue to wipe down the bar

୨ৎ “Ugh, I broke a nail,” you suddenly chime. “Eh, they were getting too long anyway.”

୨ৎ Sevika’s eyes shoot up, and you don’t notice, but Jinx sure does, because she knows Sevika has been trying to figure out if you’re gay for the past three months

୨ৎ It had been incredibly entertaining at first, watching Sevika scramble for any sign at all that you might swing her way

୨ৎ It’d been a long time since Sevika had a crush on someone like this, and frankly, it’s reduced her to a total loser

୨ৎ And now, the fun’s over, and Jinx is getting sick of her pining 

୨ৎ “Quit being such a freak,” you hear her grovel

୨ৎ You lift your head up to hum in question, having missed the context of her comment

୨ৎ “Nothing,” Sevika quickly spits, and you walk away with your hands held up in surrender

୨ৎ “Let’s go,” she continues, looking to Jinx and cocking her head toward the stairs to Silco’s abode, “you’re not even supposed to be here.”

୨ৎ “Yeah, yeah; whatever,” the blue-haired girl mumbles before bidding you goodbye

୨ৎ You wave back with a soft smile, but your brows furrow in sudden confusion after you swear you hear her mutter:

୨ৎ “Just ask the damn bartender out already.”

୨ৎ You brush it off

୨ৎ There’s no way in Janna you heard that right; and if you did, it must have been some joke about how incredulous it would be for Sevika to do such a thing

୨ৎ But, ever since that night, any interaction between you and Jinx ends this way; abruptly and awkwardly as Sevika pulls her away

୨ৎ There was the time that Jinx asked you to remind her what book you were currently reading, and when you answered with the name of a well-known Sapphic novel, Jinx turned to chortle at Sevika, who then quickly informed her of an errand they needed to run before you could ask if there was something you were missing

୨ৎ Or the time that they ran into on your day off, and you couldn’t have looked more gay if you tried: rings adorning nearly every finger, combat boots on your feet, and a carabiner on your belt loop

୨ৎ “See,” Jinx laughs, “I told you-”

୨ৎ This time, Sevika physically pulls the smaller girl away, leaving you in the dust and entirely confused

୨ৎ At this point, you were starting to get a bit offended

୨ৎ Sevika reserves the right not to like you, for whatever reason, but it isn’t fair of her to police your friendship with Jinx

୨ৎ And one night, she’s lingering after close again, and you finally let her have it

୨ৎ It’d been a long shift, and the last thing you had the patience for was her brooding gaze pinned to you as you did your closing chores

୨ৎ “Can I help you?” You suddenly jeer, turning on your heel to face her and placing a hand on your hip. 

୨ৎ You don’t miss the way her eyes widen in surprise for a split second before she schools her expression into her typical disinterest

୨ৎ “You weren’t here last night,” she deadpans

୨ৎ Your lip curls in irritation, head tilting to the side as if to ask her why the fuck she cares

୨ৎ “Yeah, I took the morning shift so I could go on a date at six,” you scoff, turning to wipe the table behind next to you. “Didn’t hit it off with her anyway, so I’d prefer that you don’t add insult to injury-”

୨ৎ “Oh, thank Janna.”

୨ৎ You whip your head around to see her eyes closed, her head tilted back, and her shoulders relaxed 

୨ৎ She looked relieved 

୨ৎ And now, you’re pissed

୨ৎ “Okay, are you some sort of sadist or something?” You suddenly snap. “I mean, seriously; I get that you don’t like me, but first, you try to get in the way of my friendship with Jinx, and now you’re happy to hear that my love life is in the shitter, so if you could please tell me what the fuck your problem is-”

୨ৎ “You’re into girls.”

୨ৎ Your eyes fly open in rage

୨ৎ “I’m into girls?! That’s why you don’t like me? Oh, so you’re really a piece of shit-”

୨ৎ “Wait! No! I-I…”

୨ৎ Her hands fly out, waving as frantically as her eyes as they dart across your features

୨ৎ In the months you’d known Sevika- in the months you’d been dealing with the stupid crush you had on the woman who absolutely despised you- you’d never seen her look like this

୨ৎ The poor woman is horrified and scrambling to explain herself

୨ৎ “I didn’t mean… that’s not what I meant. I just… I’ve been trying to figure out if you liked girls,” she finally sighs, hands dropping to her sides in defeat

୨ৎ Still, confusion is written all over your face

୨ৎ “Why?”

୨ৎ She shrugs

୨ৎ “T’ save myself the embarrassment of you being straight when I finally built up the courage to ask you out.”

୨ৎ Your jaw goes slack

୨ৎ And as you think about the past few months- her narrowed gaze not of confusion, but of appraisal, her quickness to pull Jinx away not out of reproval, but out of embarrassment- all you can do is laugh

୨ৎ “So you’ve had a thing for me this whole time, too?”

୨ৎ “Too?!”

୨ৎ You laugh even harder

୨ৎ “Why didn’t you just… ask?”

୨ৎ She scratches the back of her neck, looking up at you through her dark lashes

୨ৎ “I know, I know… just thought that might be awkward.”

୨ৎ “More awkward than looking at me like I’ve lost my mind when I ask you what you want to drink?”

୨ৎ She huffs out a chuckle, hand coming up to rub her face

୨ৎ And suddenly, you’re taking her face in your own hands to plant a kiss on her lips

୨ৎ She leans back in surprise for a fleeting moment, but it isn’t even a second later before her hands anchor to your hips and she melts into the feeling of your lips on her own

୨ৎ When you pull away, her lips quirk up into a smirk, and yours do the same as you purr,

୨ৎ “Does that answer your question?”

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

[coffeewasamistake]

Billie Jean (Eddie's not the father, dude)

(read part two)

For the Mini Pride Bingo hosted by @genderthings.

[AO3]

Prompt: 90s et  Eddie Munson | Rating: T | WC: 1239 | Relationships : Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin&Eddie Munson Tags: Rock star Eddie Munson, interview, coming out

Summary:

After five albums and two tours, Corroded Coffin has made it. They're famous, they're beloved, and everyone want to interview the new metal phenomenon. But now a groupie is telling everyone she's pregnant with Eddie's child. You can't blame the guy for losing it on live TV.

The interview had barely started, and Eddie was already losing it. Corroded Coffin had made it; they were releasing album after album and everyone in the metal scene fucking loved their music. They should be talking about songwriting, their inspirations, the difficulties they had with some songs, their last album or if they were planning to go on tour soon. But no. Eddie had been on the cover of so many tabloids these last months, and, of course, that dumb excuse of a reporter had to bypass their manager’s demands and talk about the Rumor.*

“Now, we all heard the story, Eddie.” The interviewer had a smarmy smile plastered on his face, and the way he looked at Eddie was almost predatory. “So tell me, when did you first cross paths with Jessica Marsh? It must have been at a meet-and-greet, no?”

 The question brought a wave of anger amongst the members of the band.

“Listen,” Eddie hissed, “for the last time, I don’t know that girl, okay? If we did meet at some point, I have no memory of it, and her whole story is just a bunch of lies.”

“That’s understandable. You must see a lot of different people when you tour, and you’re bound to forget a few faces, even those you got really acquainted with, am I right?”

Gareth intervened. “Dude, you’re pushing it. Can we get back to the album?”

“Of course we’re gonna talk about the album, don’t worry, we are all very excited about the new music Corroded Coffin is going to offer us. With a name like Thou shalt not kill, I can already say it’s going to offend a good number of people!”

“We don’t really care if we offend people or not,” Jeff answered. “Thou shalt not kill is an accusation, a way of fighting back against all the people who had tried to take us down, to silence us. To make us disappear. We open up a lot about our teenage years in a small-minded town in the middle of nowhere, and everything we had to go through growing up. This is not a nice album, because our lives weren’t nice back then, and if people are offended, I’m telling you, they are part of the problem.”

“Well, your new album sounds even more interesting! I think we all agree here that your fans are going to love learning more about your past, and how you ended up where you are.” The interviewer stopped for a second, a predatory glint in his eyes. “But I have to wonder, Eddie, you are the one doing most of the writing, right? Surely the news of your impending fatherhood must have had an influence on your creative mind?”

“Fuck, what do you want me to do?” Eddie stood up, arms flying in the air. “Should I scream it, sing it, sign it? Do you want me to draw a goddamn diagram? What will make you understand? I did not sleep with that Jessica girl, and she’s definitely not pregnant with my child.” He plopped down on his seat, seemingly exhausted by the accusation and his own answer. “I’m not the father, period.”

It was not enough to stop the man in front of him.

“Surely, with all the groupies throwing themselves at you, you could have slept with her and forgotten about it.”

Eddie buried his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths. Then, he hit the table three times with his open palm. “Rob Halford.”

Jeff immediately threw himself backward on his chair. “Fucking finally!” He almost screamed before knocking on the table in response.

Gareth pumped his fist, Freak nodded, and both did the same knock.

The interviewer looked at them with a questioning look.

“What is happening?” he asked. “Are you having a little discussion in code? Do you have secret Corroded Coffin informations the fans should know about? A collaboration with Rob Halford, maybe?”

“Funny how you’re coming back to relevant topics now,” Eddie replied, disdain clear on his face. “No, we don’t have a collaboration planned with him, even if it would be fucking metal to work with the man. But if you want to gossip instead of talking about your music, yeah, I have something to say. Nothing everyone is entitled to know, because that’s my personal life, but clearly no one is going to drop this stupid rumor, and I’m tired of it. Do you want to know why Miss Marsh’s accusations are ridiculous?”

“Oh yeah, please, tell us everything!”

“People keep saying I’m lying about not sleeping with that girl, either because I don’t want to take responsibility for my actions or because I fucked so many groupies I don’t even remember it.” Eddie leaned over the table, his eyes staring holes in the man interviewing them. “But you know what the truth is? I never slept with any of these girls who are throwing themselves at me at the end of every concert.” 

“That’s not what I heard!”

“Yeah, well, reputations don’t always portray reality. I don’t sleep with groupies, I don’t sleep with journalists who want to gain information, I don’t sleep with hotel employees, waiters, bartenders, flight attendants or random people I meet on tour or at the grocery store. Do I have a healthy and fulfilling sex life? Yes. Do I have a list of hookups longer than the Lord of the Ring trilogy? No. I’ve been consistently fucking the same person, thank you very much.”

“You mean the famously single Eddie Munson is finally taken? Perish the thought! Your poor fans are gonna be devastated! How long has it been going on? Longer than six months? Which is, for the reminder, dear spectators, when Jessica Marsh says she has slept with our darling Eddie and fell pregnant.”

“It’s been years man. And no, I never cheated. In fact, I’m still dating the person I lost my virginity with, and I’m never planning on seeing anyone else. And last I checked, which was…” Eddie briefly looked at his watch, “Forty-eight minutes ago, my man does not have the necessary equipment to fall pregnant.” 

The journalist choked on his spit. “Excuse me? Your man?”

“Yes, my man. Cause I’m a goddam fag.” Eddie’s smile was all teeth. “You don’t like it? Deal with it, I don’t give a shit. Steve and I, we’ve been together since ’86. He gave me the inspiration for a lot of song lyrics, but most of the time I had to change the pronouns so my label would accept them.” His violent smile disappeared, leaving only tiredness behind. “Most of them still only exist on paper because being gay is apparently a crime in the music industry and my producer would not let me make a whole album about Stevie.”

Eddie buried his face in his hand and took a deep breath.

“Well,” the journalist said, “that’s not quite what we were all expecting from this interview.” He cleared his throat. “So, about that new album of yours…”

Freak’s laugh interrupted him.

“Man, you really think we’re gonna answer your questions after all that bullshit. Nah, this interview is over.” He jumped to his feet, followed by two of his bandmates. “We’re leaving.”

Gareth tugged on Eddie’s arm until he stood up with them.

The last image the journalist got of Corroded Coffin was Freak’s raised middle finger as they walked out.

[bartonomy]

A GLIMPSE BETWEEN THE VEIL

PAIRING James Potter x Whimsical!Reader

SYNOPSIS James Potter has never put much stock in divination, but when a peculiar classmate offers to read his future, he finds himself unable to resist.

CONTENT WARNING talk about the future, James freaking out, angsty but not too bad, not exactly romantic but the reader is implied to be interested

WORD COUNT 1.2k

library.

James Potter never fancied himself the superstitious sort. Sure, he had vague notions of grandeur- winning the Quidditch Cup, making his parents proud, marrying a cute girl with a laugh as sharp as her hexes- but actual predictions? No, thanks. That sort of thing was for people who saw shapes in tea leaves and claimed the wind is responsible for every little mishap.

Which was precisely why he was sitting crisscrossed apple sauce across from you, mildly bewildered, as you shuffled an old deck of tarot cards with an almost hypnotic grace.

“You’re taking an awful long time, darling,” James teased, propping his chin on his hand. “Are you searching for a particularly good future, or just one that doesn’t end with me embarrassing myself?”

You smiled, a slow, knowing thing that made his skin prickle.

“The cards take the time they need, James.” Your voice was soft, melodic, like you were speaking from somewhere just beyond reality. “patience, or you might spook them away, the nargles have been especially fussy these days”

“Wouldn’t want that, do we” he murmured, glancing down at the cards with skepticism.

It was a quiet afternoon in the Gryffindor common room, the fire casting warm shadows across the walls. Most of the house was either out on the grounds or in Hogsmeade, but James had lingered behind, half out of laziness, half because he’d overheard Sirius mention your readings and got inexplicably curious.

Sirius, for all his bravado, had walked away from his session looking rattled. Which was interesting and absolutely hilarious.

You sighed contently, spreading the deck between your hands like a fan. The firelight flickered, casting warm shadows over the cards, their edges frayed from years of use. James had seen you doing readings before- sometimes for your friends, sometimes for curious younger students, and even once for Professor Whats-Her-Name in the Courtyard.

“Please pick three,” you instructed with the same soft tone you only used in class.

"Aye, aye grand Seer", James did as he was told, amused despite himself. “So, how does this work? You going to tell me I’m going to be rich and famous or that my soulmate, the love of my life is around here??” he snorted "please let it be the latter one"

"You are already rich" you pointed out, laying the three picked card neatly in front of you and discarding the unused deck in your satchel "and whether or not you will find love...well. That remains to be discovered, hm?"

With that he rolled his eyes playfully and you hummed, drawing the first card and laying it gently in front of you. The Fool.

James blinked.

“Oi, that’s just rude.”

You laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Not at all. The Fool isn’t the fool we all know, James. He’s someone at the beginning of a great journey, standing on the edge of a cliff, about to take a leap of faith.” You tapped the card. “He’s full of potential, but also reckless. Fascinating, don’t you think?”

James grinned. “Sounds about right so far.”

You drew the next card. The Lovers.

James coughed. “Oh, well—”

You tilted your head, studying it with quiet reverence. “This isn’t always about romance, you know. It can mean a choice, a connection, a relationship that defines a person. It’s about harmony and consequence. Something you can’t escape.”

James swallowed. His mind, without permission, conjured an image of Lily Evans—her oh so fierce green eyes, the way she scrunched her nose adorably when she was annoyed, how she never hesitated to call him out.

You watched him closely, as if seeing the thought pass across his face. He didn’t like how sharp your gaze was, like you were peeling him apart with nothing but intuition.

“Shall we?” you murmured, pulling the third card.

You turned over the third and last card.

James frowned at the image—a great tower, struck by lightning, people falling from its heights. The air around you both seemed to shift, the easy playfulness from before fading into something heavier.

“The Tower,” you murmured.

James swallowed. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

You traced the image with a careful finger. “Not bad. Just… necessary.”

James gave a dry laugh. “Destruction is necessary? On my buttocks, you are just like us, little troublemaker”

“Sometimes.” Your voice remained gentle, but the certainty in it made James shiver and his uneasy smile faded. “The Tower comes when the foundation isn’t steady. It doesn’t destroy for the sake of it—it forces change. When the dust settles, the world isn’t the same, but that doesn’t mean it’s worse.”

James stared at the card, feeling an unexpected tightness in his chest. Something about it—it felt too close, like a whisper against the back of his mind.

“What kind of change?” he asked quietly.

You studied him for a long moment, then examined the fated cards in front of of you

James stared at them. The Fool. The Lovers. The Tower. A journey, a choice, a fall.

He let out a quiet breath. “You sure you didn’t stack the deck?”

You smiled, but didn’t answer. Instead, you gathered the cards and shuffled them again, your fingers delicate against the worn edges.

James watched you, the tightness in his chest still there, lingering.

“Do you ever do readings for yourself?”

The question was simple, but it was enough to stop your fingers mid-motion. You hadn’t expected him to ask that. It was an unexpected question. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of reading for yourself felt like stepping into uncharted territory, where the gods will have full access of your being, your soul, and your mind.

“I... would rather not” you answered softly, your eyes now focused on your hands,“I mean, It is possible if I do, but it’s not something I like to do often.”

“Why not?” James asked, his curiosity piqued, though his tone was lined with the previous horror of his reading. “Scared the cards might tell you something you don’t want to hear?”

You chuckled, but it came out strained. “Something like that.”

James leaned in a bit closer, tilting his head. “Come on, you’re always so ominous with the cards for everyone else. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few little 'whackspurts' messing up your head.”

The mention of whackspurts—those silly, fuzzy little creatures from your gardens, made you stiffen slightly, but not in the way he intended. It was funny, yes, but also something you had come to associate with the fuzziness that clouded your mind whenever you thought too much about yourself. The confusion, the uncertainty, the inability to make sense of your own feelings. You’d often joked about whackspurts being responsible for any moments of mental fog, but in truth, it was far more than that. It was a kind of fear—the uneasiness of confronting the unknown parts of yourself, the parts that were tangled and elusive.

“I don’t think it’s whackspurts,” you said quietly, finally meeting his gaze. “not entirely at least, It’s more like… what if I look too closely and find things I’m not prepared to see? What if there’s something inside me that I’m not meant to understand?”

He only shrugged, " then you are forced to confront them no matter what. I mean, with the bullock of a reading you gave me, I can't entirely avoid it can I?" he gave you his signature smile, all teeth and stirring something foreign inside of you.

“You believe in fate, don't you?” you asked after a moment.

James shook his head. “I believe in making my own future.”

Your smile was soft. “Then do.”

The words settled into him, deep and warm, and he suddenly had the strangest feeling that one day—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—he would look back on this moment and realize just how much the universe had been trying to warn him.

[mullermilkshake]

Realisation is a fucking eyesore

Part 20 <- Part 21 -> Part 22

The aftermath is excruciating. Jinwoo gets your true perspective.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Pregnant!reader Tags - Mentions of potential self harm, Yandere thoughts/behaviours, Mental health, Body horror (eyes)

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST CLOSED

“How could he not have known she was in there?”

Jong-in was a fucking idiot.

“He was embarrassed when he got here.” You defended him. “He said he looked here already, three times and called, then he saw all the missed calls from his phone. Just the wrong place, wrong time.”

Were you still punishing Jinwoo for the way he behaved? Sure he did something he never should have done to you, but you were incredibly forgiving of Jong-in's behaviour. And that was fucked up.

“I guess… but if it were me, I would have found you immediately.”

You nodded, rubbing your arms for warmth over your little jacket. “I know that, but Jong-in isn’t you, he doesn’t have your resources. I wouldn’t give him too much of a hard time. Hae-in’s back with him, and safe. That’s all that matters right now. But what I’m concerned about is what’s going on in that place. That’s what we should be thinking about.”

Jinwoo slipped his jacket off to settle over your shoulders, he listened out for your quiet ‘thank you’. He was suspicious of why you had changed your tune so suddenly. You were worried about getting Hae-in out, yes. But the overall subject came across as moot from you, Jinwoo couldn’t understand it.

As much as he was happy you didn’t cause issues, he was expecting more of a fight or disruption. Had your will and independence melted into the pavement in the ten minutes he was gone? Or perhaps Jong-in said something to you while Jinwoo was away?

Jinwoo could just imagine a big, grand gesture at your feet, Jong-in only coming because you called him and had nothing to do with Hae-in. No… you weren’t dense to it, even if you were oblivious to the way Jong-in felt towards you. After everything you said to him in the apartment, you wouldn’t bend to outside influences so easily.

“What do you think is going on?” Jinwoo took your hand like a lifeline.

“I-I don’t know…” You said. “The whole thing is odd, hearing her so frantic, so sure that this is what’s going on. I don’t know what to believe. What did the doctor say?”

“She was pretty sure that Hae-in wanted to hurt herself. That’s the gist of it anyway.”

“Fucking hell… You don’t think she would have, right?” Was that all you would say on the matter?

“To be honest, I’m not sure.” Jinwoo decided to take a different approach “She was really distressed. It was a bit strange though, right? I’ve never seen Hae-in like that.”

“I know, it’s taken a moment to process it, I just wanted her out of there. After having time to think about it, I definitely won’t be going back inside that place… sorry I freaked out.”

“It’s alright, just take a step back and remember that you’re pregnant. You can’t go stressing yourself like that.”

Something wasn’t right.

“I know. I wasn’t thinking… it’s just seeing her like that- I want to blame baby brain, but I can’t, can I?”

What the hell was going on with you? “You’re incredibly blase about this.”

You slowed for a second, wide eyed in his jacket where the cuffs dangled past your fingers. “I’m not-“

“You are. If anything that Hae-in said was true, we have a bigger problem on our hands. Our babies could be at risk and you’re acting like we just went out for coffee or something, what’s wrong?”

“No, Jinwoo, it’s not like that. Please don't-“

“Then what is it?”

“If I think about what she said, and it turns out to be true, I can’t bear it!” You halted in the middle of the pathway, ripping your hand from his in a fit of defiance. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this while also trying to be strong for Hae-in, then you yank me out of there and make what is already a terrifying thought closer to reality! I’m terrified already, Jinwoo, I don’t need another thing on my plate right now…” You sniffled into his jacket in an attempt to hide yourself. “As soon as I heard those words, my heart broke, but if I’m supposed to become a mom, then how can I panic in front of the babies? They feel everything I do, I can’t hide any of it!”

The mana spike coming from you pulsed the strongest it had ever done thus far in the pregnancy. Still, Jinwoo challenged you. He wanted answers.

“So you’d rather ignore it?” In hindsight, it was a dick move stressing you out just to get answers.

“No! I just need to deal with it in my own way. I- just forget about it, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Wait.” Jinwoo grabbed your wrist to stop you leaving, you didn’t resist much. “Then help me to understand, because we can’t be falling apart right now. Baby please, not after all this tonight. We’re on our own and we shouldn’t be at each other's throats. The association’s left us to our own devices so we have to decide how to move forward.”

“I feel guilty. Okay? I feel guilty that I even entertained the idea of going in there. I put my trust in the institution that’s accepted us for who we are and our abilities, and they’re up to something shady. Something we can't see.”

Your eyes were wet, tearfully dripping down your shirt, you rubbed your belly like any mother-to-be would. “What if that were me in that bed and I went there willingly just like Hae-in did? What if they really want to take her baby? What if I’m next? Or there’s the next harsh possibility that Hae-in is sick and she’s seeing things. Thinking dangerous things. Is that why she’s saying they want to take her baby away? I don’t know. And it’s killing me.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty, it’s not your fault.”

“So why can’t I stop feeling guilt? Why am I trying to ignore everything I saw in there so that I might feel a little better? I’m a terrible person… A terrible person who just wants to be with you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I pulled something like this and you left me-“

“I wouldn’t do that.” Jinwoo did not let go in fear you’d run away from him and he’d never catch back up. You were making leaps and bounds properly in his direction and admitting what he wanted to hear for the first time. “We’ve been through this already. Don’t say things like that. I’ll never leave you… And you’ll never be in Hae-in’s position because I’d burn the whole association down before that happened.”

Should he say it?

“I’d kill before that happened.”

Shaking your head never swayed him, you wiped away the wet from your face with the jacket sleeve. “One day you might think differently, and that thought terrifies me if I think about it.”

“I won’t- why are you thinking like that?”

Where were you going with this? Why did it sound like a break up? Jinwoo wouldn’t allow that, he couldn’t. But as he stood there watching you, his heart pushed his brain to assume the worst with something he couldn't control, even as the S-Rank he was.

“The last twenty four hours have been ridiculous. And with each second that passes, I can’t get it out of my head that we’re getting married at some point… and when I think of that, it comes over me like ocean waves, but the tide’s coming in now.”

“What does that mean?” 

This is it, she’s done with me. It’s how this goes, right? 

“It means that I’m evolving, Jinwoo.” That could mean you were finished with him. “And it’s getting to the point that I can’t think of my future where you’re not in it. God, this is crazy! My head is all over the place, but if I did things all over again, I’m convincing myself that I’d do all of this again and I can’t put a reason to it.”

“So… you’re not breaking up with me.”

“What?! No!” You pulled him into an embrace as close as you could and the babies mana fluctuations ceased. “Why would you think that?”

“I just- look, I think we tackled this wrong.”

“I wouldn’t break up with you over this.” Your eyes were glossy as though they’d tear up again at the next word. “Things are happening so fast and my emotions and feelings are constantly changing… if anything, tonight has shown me just how far you’re willing to go and how much you care for me.”

Jinwoo exhaled one long breath, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “I care more than you know. Fuck- I’m so sorry for what I did, I just needed you out of there as soon as possible in case things got bad. I know I left Hae-in on her own, but here’s the ugly truth.”

He prepared to get hit in the face by the way the night had gone, but who was keeping score now?

“You are more important to me. If I had to choose between you and Hae-in, I’d choose you everytime. Everything comes as a second thought when you’re involved. That’s how much you mean to me. I didn’t forget about Hae-in, but your safety is paramount. Our babies safety is crucial.”

When it came to silence, Jinwoo just kept talking.

“I’m so sorry I shouted, and I wish I could take back how I handled the situation. I didn’t mean to hurt you, or put my hands on you. I just didn’t know what to do, and I went into autopilot.”

You did not slap him, nor shout, just gave him those beautiful doe eyes he loved so much. “Look, if it were any other situation, I would have been pretty turned on with you pulling me about like that, but please don’t do it again… That being said, I’m sorry I just buried my head in the sand and tried to deal with it on my own…”

“Baby, don’t apologise-”

“The truth is, Jinwoo… I’m really not okay. I haven’t been for a while and I think tonight just tipped me over the edge so that I shut down instead of opening up to you.” You looked down the street away from his gaze and anywhere else that wasn’t on him. “The thought of something like tonight happening to me is too real and I’m terrified all over again, it’s one vicious cycle and I don’t know how to tackle it.”

“Then we do it together. I won’t know unless you tell me everything… You can trust me, I hope you know that- like really know that.”

If you came to Jinwoo tonight after having killed someone, he’d take care of the body himself without so much as an acknowledgement that you’d even done anything illegal.

“I do... My emotions and thoughts are all over the place at the best of times. I know I shouldn’t wish it away, but I really can’t wait until I’m not pregnant anymore and the twins are here. I want to feel like me again. And with all this on top, I want- seriously, I don’t know what to think.”

Jinwoo rubbed your baby bump, secretly hoping that those S-Rank babies were good at telepathy or something, sending messages to them to try and not go so hard on their mom and calm down on the whole mana absorption thing. 

Nothing changed.

Okay, so the babies aren’t telepathic, noted. 

“Anyway… enough about all that. What are we going to do about Hae-in and Jong-in?” You linked your hand with his and continued walking back home.

As far as Jinwoo was concerned, Jong-in could kick rocks for all he cared. And Hae-in? Well, she wasn’t Jinwoo’s priority either. But now, Jong-in had a reason not to be around you with Hae-in being the way she was. While too dark to admit out loud, Jinwoo understood that this couldn’t have gone any better for him.

Jong-in was distracted, the association had knelt to Jinwoo due to the engagement, the association doctor backed off pretty quickly and seemed to understand that his threats left nothing to ambiguity.

And lastly, he was going to marry you and keep you close. At last. 

Even so, he couldn’t expressly state that to you, could he?

“I think we play it as it goes, the long game. We keep our ears to the ground and wait to see if we pick anything up. We’re halfway there and you need plenty of rest to grow our babies. So let me deal with it, yeah? I don’t want you worrying anymore, I’ll handle everything.”

“That’s a lot on your shoulders, Jinwoo.”

“Let me worry about that, just focus on yourself and stay stress free. I have a feeling that it’ll all work itself out if we let it.”

“How do we do that?”

The only thing he really could do. Sit and wait.

Jinwoo would investigate wit ha hard head if he didn’t have you and the twins to think about. If he went to far too soon, you’d see his darker side for what it was, and you’d run away from him. If he sat back too much, the association would go unchecked like a festering sore.

Things would be so much easier if I just wiped them all away out of existence. 

Jinwoo had no choice but to stick with the not-so-happy median. “If there really is something shady going on, then we let the association hang themselves with their own betrayal.”

And then Jinwoo would burn them all.

“And what if it’s all a misunderstanding?”

“Then it’ll all calm down once Hae-in is settled and Jong-in takes control of his end of things.” 

Or just gets his head out of his ass and quits talking to my fiancé, full stop. 

“And that doctor in the meantime? I still have to go to my appointments. And then there’s labour and everything else- oh my god… this is a shit show.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll deal with her. Something tells me that she won’t be an issue now. I attached a shadow to her just in case. But… it’s odd, I’m not getting anything from it, like the shadow keeps getting lost. Yet she has no mana, and I couldn't see any aura… It’s something to take into account, I’ll keep an eye on it.”

If she became an issue, Jinwoo would burn her eyes right out of the sockets.

“Really? That is odd.”

“Don’t overthink it, baby.”

“Ugh… I still can’t get over how weird this night has been. The twins are kicking like crazy, it’s making my stomach flutter.”

Jinwoo smiled, shoving away the dark stuff for just a moment. “See? They’re trying to tell you to take a deep breath and-”

Your stomach rumbled.

“No wait, I think I’m just hungry.” 

“Yeah, I think you are.”

“These cravings will be the death of me.”

And then you laughed, more like cackled in the street after the long night now behind you. Jinwoo couldn’t stifle his amusement either, his shoulders bouncing at the little slice of life amidst the darkness.

The darkness he’d make even darker if the association tried to test him further.

Part 20 <- Part 21 -> Part 22

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[sweetromanova]

Crisis Management: Part Three🖤

Natasha Romanoff x PR Handler!Reader

Summary: Your assigned to make Natasha Romanoff more ‘relatable’. Somewhere along the way you forget your job was to fix her image, not fall in love with it.

A/N: i was supposed to upload this days ago but every time i re-read it, i was unhappy, i still am but here is the third instalment! there will be one more...

Natasha wasn’t looking for trouble.

She was just walking through the training wing, finishing a sparring session with one of the senior agents, wiping sweat from her neck with a towel, already mentally halfway through a black coffee and a five-minute nap.

Then she heard it.

It wasn’t loud but it was clear. Just voices echoing off the hall’s concrete, a few of the younger agents in the corner, tossing back jokes and smirks like they were in some locker room comedy special.

“—PR girl? Damn. I’d sit through a whole press seminar if she was the one giving it.”

“Right? She’s hot and smart. Those are the ones that ruin your life in the best way.”

“I bet she’s got that whole hidden freak vibe. Quiet ones always do.”

And then: “Wonder if she and Romanoff are actually hooking up.”

“I was on nights and they were sparring the other day. Like Natasha was just tossing her around like a rag doll.”

“…Could be a kink thing.”

“I mean, I’d be into it. Wonder if they need a referee…”

That was as far as they got.

Natasha’s boot hit the floor harder than necessary as she stepped into view. The smile she gave them wasn’t a smile. It was a barbed wire snarl wrapped in silk.

“Care to repeat that?” She asked, voice low and lethal.

The agents froze, one of them paling instantly. Another opened his mouth, probably to make a joke but nothing came out.

Natasha stalked forward, hands at her sides but ready. Her whole body spoke threat in that cold, perfect way only she could.

“I didn’t quite hear you.” She said again. “Say it louder.”

One of them actually stepped back.

“You think because she’s kind, she’s an object? Because she does her job with grace and patience, especially with all of you walking PR disasters, you get to talk about her like that?”

“No- I- We-“

“I- I- I-“ Natasha mocked, her voice razor-sharp. “What? You thought nobody would call you out? You thought you could sit there, make your little jokes and it wouldn’t get back to her?”

The group stood frozen, the tension crackling in the air like a storm just about to break.

“She’s twice the person any of you could hope to be.” Natasha continued, stepping forward now, voice steady, low and deadly calm. “And believe me when I say, if you ever speak about her like that again, you won’t just be explaining yourselves to me.”

She let the silence stretch, let them squirm under the weight of her gaze. 

Then, almost softly, but with unmistakable steel. “Apologise, now. Then get out of my sight.”

They didn’t hesitate. A chorus of stumbling apologies, averted eyes, and hasty steps followed, leaving Natasha alone with the stillness.

She exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Idiots.”

“Romanoff.” Came a sharp voice behind her. Maria Hill. “You wanna turn that PR into HR?”

“Please.” Natasha scoffed. “The new agents need a bit of humbling.”

“You’re not wrong.” Maria said carefully. “But not here. If you’re going to bully the recruits, do it out of the training room”

Natasha stood still, still vibrating with fury. Her knuckles were white where she clenched the towel.

Steve, who had appeared not long after Maria, clearly also having overheard the conflict, stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s walk it off.”

“I’m fine.” She snapped.

“You’re not.” Maria said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re cracking that water bottle… So let’s fix that.”

Before she could argue, the elevator chimed.

Pepper and Wanda, walking with a coffee in hand, brows already raised like they’d sensed the tension from three floors up.

Natasha crossed her arms. “Let me guess, you’re here to tell me to calm down too.”

“No.” Wanda said. “But I did sense your mood from upstairs. What happened?”

“Some idiot agents talking shit.”

“Oh.” Pepper blinked. “When has that ever bothered you?”

“It didn’t.” Maria cut in. “Until they started talking about her.”

“Oh. OH.”

Natasha didn’t answer.

“Let’s take a walk.” Not giving the redhead a choice, the two women whisked her away. “Do you want to know why you’re… hulking out?” Pepper didn’t wait for answer. “She gets under your skin because she’s not built like us. Not hardened by missions and violence and trauma. But she’s strong in a different way.”

“She’s just good and you’re not used to that.” Wanda added softly.

Pepper nodded. “She sees people. The real parts. Not the headlines. Not the failures. Just the things worth holding onto. And she makes you want to live up to that.”

That cracked something in Natasha’s chest.

Pepper stepped closer. “I’ve known her quite a while but she doesn’t talk much about herself, not really. But people talk and well… she’s been through things that would’ve broken most people.”

Natasha said nothing.

“And instead of closing off, she got better. Softer. She doesn’t let the past make her cruel.”

“She’s not naive.” Wanda added. “But she still chooses kindness. Not because she has to, because she believes it changes people.”

Natasha was quiet for a long time. Then: “She deserves someone better than me.”

Pepper gave her a long look. “She deserves someone who sees her. And protects her when she’s not looking. I think that might be you.”

Something twisted hard in Natasha’s chest.

Because she’d fought wars. Escaped empires. Dismantled entire networks of evil. But this?

This was terrifying.

Caring for someone who mattered. Caring for someone who could be hurt.

And maybe worst of all, being cared for back.

Natasha Romanoff, legendary spy, killer, child assassin was scared. But not of pain or even of love.

She was scared that someone like you might reach for her one day, with all that light and stubborn hope and she’d be too broken to hold it.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You knew something was wrong when the third person asked ‘Is she running late or just blowing this off?’.

The event had started almost an hour ago.

The press was already circling like bloodthirsty drones, influencers taking selfies in front of the charity’s golden banner while you stood off to the side in the dress you’d picked carefully, hoping and stupidly that tonight might finally feel like something real.

You kept checking your phone.

Nothing. Not a text. Not a call. Not even a ‘Sorry, can’t make it.’

You tried to hold your smile when reporters asked if Natasha was on her way. “She’s probably just… delayed.”

When someone whispered ‘Guess the soft launch wasn’t real’ loud enough for you to hear, your cheeks flamed hot.

You left before the main speech. Before dessert. Before you had to feel the weight of every turned head and half-sympathetic glance.

By the time the Tower elevator dinged open, you weren’t sad anymore.

You were furious.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The team was scattered around the couches, Tony and Sam mid-bicker, Clint tossing popcorn at Steve’s head, Wanda trying to read a book but failing miserably through the chaos.

And there she was.

Natasha.

Perfectly calm, sitting on the armrest, sipping a drink, scrolling through her phone like the night hadn’t just imploded around you.

You stormed in and the room went still.

“Where the hell were you?” You snapped, voice sharp enough to cut steel. In the elevator ride, you planned your exact argument, down to the last word. But when you saw her there, nonchalantly on that damn phone that you’d spent the last hour calling and texting, it went out of the window.

Natasha didn’t look up. “I didn’t feel like going.”

You blinked. “You didn’t feel like it?”

She shrugged, indifferent. “Seemed like more of a PR thing than a me thing.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed, a sharp, disbelieving sound. “Are you kidding? You agreed to be there. You confirmed. We planned it, we rehearsed it. I stood there like an idiot while people asked if you were even real.”

She finally looked at you, still unreadable. “They’ll get over it.”

You took a step forward. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She said. Too fast. Too flat. “It wasn’t personal.”

The team had all practically dissolved into the couch at this point, wincing at every word Natasha said and looking everywhere but at you. 

“Not personal?!” Your voice cracked, your composure fracturing along with it. “You made me believe I could trust you. That we were building something. You let me in, let me- care about you and then the second it matters, you bail. You don’t even bother to lie about it.”

She said nothing. No apology. No reaction.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “You know what? You’re exactly what people say you are. Cold. Closed off. A performance.”

That made her blink but still, she didn’t answer.

So you pressed harder. “Was any of it real? Or were you just bored and thought I’d be fun to play with?”

Her jaw tightened but she kept still and infuriatingly calm.

“I guess that’s my answer.” You whispered, stepping back like you’d been slapped. “I really thought you were different. You’re a coward, Agent Romanoff.”

It wasn’t until Wanda gently touched your arm that you remembered the rest of the team. She was standing beside you now, eyes soft, hand light on your wrist.

“Come on.” She said gently. “Let’s take a walk.”

You didn’t even nod. Just let her guide you toward the elevator, your chest still burning.

You didn’t look back.

If you had, you might’ve seen Natasha’s shoulders fold in on themselves the second the door closed.

But you didn’t.

And she didn’t stop you.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The night air was cool, heavy with city sounds and the quiet hum of traffic below. Wanda walked beside you, hands in her coat pockets, giving you silence without pressure.

When you finally spoke, it came out hoarse and bitter.

“I know she’s complicated. I know. I didn’t walk into this thinking she was going to knit me a sweater and write me poems.”

Wanda didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

You shook your head, blinking hard. “But I thought… I thought if I showed up, if I stayed patient, gave her space, gave her me- that maybe, eventually…”

“That she’d meet you there.” Wanda finished quietly.

You nodded, arms crossing tight over your chest. “And tonight wasn’t even about us. It was work. It was something she promised to do. But she just… didn’t.”

You paused. “I stood there like an idiot while people whispered that I was being used. That it was all fake. And she didn’t even bother to text.”

Wanda finally looked over at you, gentle but firm. “That’s not about you.”

You laughed bitterly. “Feels like it is.”

“She’s scared.”

“Of what? Me? I’m not the one who disappears. I’m not the one who shuts down the second someone gets too close.”

“No.” Wanda agreed. “You’re the one who shows up. Every time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “It hurts. It’s not even about the event anymore. I trusted her. I defended her. I let her in. And she made me feel like I was nothing. Like it was all… one-sided.”

“It’s not.” Wanda assures you, almost desperate to tell you what happened but she knows it’s not her place to say.

You looked at her. “Then why does it feel like it is?”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The second the elevator doors closed behind you and Wanda, silence settled over the common room.

And then… “What the hell was that?” Tony said, no sarcasm for once.

Steve stepped forward, arms crossed. “You left her there, Romanoff.”

Natasha stood by the window, arms folded, expression unreadable but her silence said everything.

“You humiliated her, at her work. The reputation she’d spent so long building you, you nearly ruined it.” Clint added, quiet but firm. “That’s not like you.

“She’ll bounce back,” Natasha muttered, too low to be convincing.

“Bounce back?” Clint scoffed, wanting to throw the remote in his hand at the redhead’s stupidly frustrating head.

That’s not the point.” Sam said. “You’re not a rookie. You know what that kind of public embarrassment does to someone. especially someone whose whole job is to keep you from looking bad.”

Natasha didn’t move.

“She looked gutted.” Bucky said, tone unusually gentle. “I’ve seen you walk away from a hundred things. But her?”

He shook his head. “This wasn’t tactical. This was self-sabotage.”

“I don’t need a team of emotionally unavailable idiots to start playing Cupid with me and her. When did I ask?!”

“We were helping.”

“I didn’t ask!” Natasha almost growled, defensive and angry. “And you guys inserted yourself anyway and now what? You’re mad because you thought you were right. You believed in some fairytale-“

Pepper’s voice cut in, cool and cutting. “She believed in you. Fought for you.”

That one made Natasha flinch. just barely. But it was there.

“I never asked her to.”

“No.” Pepper agreed. “But you let her.”

Another long silence.

Natasha finally spoke. “I thought if I kept her at arm’s length, I wouldn’t… ruin it.”

Tony snorted. “Well, congrats. You managed to ruin it anyway.”

Steve’s voice softened. “You don’t get to do this halfway, Nat. Not with someone like her. If you want out, be honest. But if you’re scared? That’s fine. Just don’t use fear as an excuse to hurt her.”

No one said anything else.

They didn’t need to.

The weight of what she’d done filled the room and this time, Natasha felt it.

She turned back to the window, jaw tight, trying to pretend the sting behind her eyes was nothing.

But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure how to fix what she’d broken. She couldn’t throw a grenade at it and watch it collapse. She couldn’t shoot someone in the name of justice or throw a pair of handcuffs on you and feel a little lighter that she just saved the world of another monster. This was something different, something new entirely and she had no idea.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You didn’t plan to go back to the Tower the next day.

You were tired. Still bruised from the embarrassment, still sore from the fight, worse than a physical one because the person who’d hurt you knew where to land the blows.

But your laptop had updates syncing through the Tower server and if you didn’t at least check in, the PR team would start sending passive-aggressive gifs.

So you walked through the front doors, bracing for awkward silences, maybe a few pity looks.

What you weren’t expecting was chaos.

The common room lights were dimmed, someone had shoved a ring light into a plant and the Smart TV was looping a series of shaky, self-recorded videos. Natasha’s face filled the screen. She was wearing a hoodie, actually your hoodie you realised and squinting into the camera like she was trying to disable it with her eyes alone.

“Hi.“ She said. “I’m Natasha Romanoff. You may know me from such headlines as ‘Scary in Black’ and ‘Does She Ever Smile?“

You froze.

She took a beat, clearly reading from a barely hidden script.

“I’m here to tell you about-“ She glanced off-screen, “What was it? Oh. Lip gloss. From this… tube.” She held up a pale blue tube like it might detonate. “Apparently, this one’s vegan and has emotional undertones.”

Cut.

The next video appeared, a microphone placed strategically on a table with nothing else around. You almost burst out laughing as suddenly two hands appeared, armed with a knife and some kind of gadget, slowly sharpening it. 

You never thought you’d see the day Natasha did ASMR and with weapons no less, it was weirdly hot. Her voice echoed in the bathroom.

“Ok, now I kinda get the appeal. Let’s try guns…”

Cut.

Then she appeared again, this time with the rest of the team. You actually did start laughing now as the redhead lip synced along with the audio ‘…You can pack your things and leave. There’s the door.’

The rest of the team jumped out from various places behind her and pointed as they chorused ‘There’s the door bitch!’

Cut.

You stood there, stunned.

Then her voice came, not from the speakers but from behind you. “I don’t know how to say I’m sorry without it sounding… like strategy. So I figured I’d show you instead. I didn’t forget what you said, about what you like, what makes you laugh, what matters to you. I’m sorry I didn’t show up. But I was listening.”

You blinked fast and turned, there she was. Standing in the soft light, hands in her pockets, looking unsure in a way that was very un-Natasha.

You laughed through your nose, still watery. “You made content.”

She nodded. “I made so much content.”

“I’m being honest when I say I’m not good at this.” She muttered quietly. “But I really wanted you to know that I was paying attention. I just… panicked. I hurt you because I got scared and that’s not fair. It’s not what you deserve.”

You looked at her. “I don’t want perfect.” You shrugged. “I just want honest.”

She stepped closer. “Then I’m terrified. And trying. That’s honest.”

You swallowed hard. “Okay.”

She gestured toward the elevator. “Walk with me?”

You nodded.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You walked through the city, not speaking for a while. Just existing beside each other. Shoulder to shoulder. Not touching but closer than space really allowed.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence.

“I didn’t think someone like you could be real.”

You glanced at her. “Someone like me?”

“Soft. Not scared of me. Actually the opposite.”

“I’m terrified of you.” You said, dryly. “I’m pretty sure that day I walked in with a binder, you could have killed me with it at least 30 different ways.”

“You don’t act like it.” She huffed a laugh. “But that’s true.”

“That’s because somewhere under the assassin stare and the world’s worst text etiquette, you’ve got a good heart.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Not to me.”

She looked down at her hands for a second. “You really think I can be good?”

You slowed your pace. “I think you already are. You just don’t know what it looks like to share it with another person yet.”

Another long pause.

Then, quietly. “Will you show me?”

Your chest squeezed so tight you could barely breathe.

You nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

She didn’t reach for your hand but her fingers brushed yours.

Just enough that it said I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The walk back to the tower was easy, light and refreshing, which someone would never describe Natasha Romanoff as.

Unless they was you. 

You soaked in the quiet, city buzz, breathed in the soft, spring air, tried not to lose your train of thought when her sleeve brushing yours.

You weren’t holding hands but it was close. You smiled, still feeling the ghost of her voice in your chest. Will you show me?

You were just about to say something, something dumb and soft and probably embarrassing, when you heard it.

A click. Then another.

A chorus of camera shutters.

Then voices. “Wait—wait, is that her?”

“Is that Natasha Romanoff?!”

“Oh my God, it’s them! The one from that video and- GET A VIDEO!”

“Are they dating?!”

And just like that, it hit. A wall of people, phone up, shouting and pushing. Some were laughing, some trying to get selfies, others just yelling her name.

“Natasha! Look this way!”

“Smile for us!”

“ARE YOU TOGETHER?!” You stiffened instantly, shrinking back without thinking, trying to block the flashes from your face but it was too late.

A hand shoved too close. A phone nearly hit your cheek. Someone grabbed your arm, not hard but hard enough to make your pulse spike. You barely had time to register it before Natasha moved.

Fast. Fluid. Pure instinct.

She stepped in front of you like a shield, one hand gripping your wrist, the other out in a sharp, commanding gesture. “Back up NOW.”

Her voice cut through the crowd like a blade.

Her eyes were fire and her jaw was tightly locked. The same look she wore before a takedown.

“Move.” She snapped, already steering you through the crush.

You let her. You didn’t have a choice.

Every time someone got too close, she was there, guiding you behind her, using her body to wedge open space. A shoulder turned to block an arm. A hand on your back to keep you close. Her head down, scanning, protecting.

You heard someone yell. “You can’t touch me, I know my rights!”

And then a camera was shoved too close. Too close.

Natasha caught it mid-air and shoved it back, not hard enough to break it but hard enough to make the guy stumble. “Touch her again.” She said, flatly. “And we’ll find out exactly how much training I’m not using right now.”

The crowd didn’t fully disperse but they hesitated, just long enough for her to get you into the Tower’s entryway, where security finally swarmed.

The doors shut.

The noise dropped.

Your breath was ragged.

Natasha was still standing in front of you, chest rising and falling fast, like she was waiting for another threat.

Only when she turned around did you realise her hand was shaking.

You blinked. “Nat…”

Her jaw twitched. She didn’t look at you.

“I shouldn’t have let you walk with me. That was stupid. I wasn’t thinking. They aren’t usually like that, not that bad but I-“

“Hey.” You stepped forward, catching her wrist gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, wild and guilt-ridden. Scared, in a way she never let herself be.

“I should’ve known,” she said, voice tight. “They watch everything. I should’ve-“

“You protected me.” Her breath hitched.

You took her hand, slowly. “You protected me. From them. From that. I’ve dealt with paparazzi before and that could have been intense but you-“

“Hey, look! My favourite couple! Did you get caught in that mess?” Tony appeared, all bright-eyed and almost hyped up on the chaos that waited outside. “Sorry about that! Some groupie just told everyone her two year old son is mine so it’s a little crazy. All in a day’s work, right?”

“What?” You breathed, you couldn’t take dealing with a scandal like this.

“Na, don’t worry about it. Happens at least once a month, right Nat?”

“Strangely, yes.”

“See you lovebirds later…” He winked, sliding on his glasses and flocking to the many that waited outside for a picture, a comment or even just a selfie.

“I- Is he always like that?”

“Pretty much.” 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The gala was meant to be a celebration. An Avengers public appearance. A press-heavy fundraiser. Civil, polished, contained. Easy.

The whole team was there, dressed like they’d been told not to bring weapons, even though you knew better. Steve giving careful interviews, Tony charming bored billionaires, Wanda nodding along to some roundtable about ‘moral frameworks’. 

You were centre stage, scheduled to moderate the live Q&A. Natasha was seated beside you, perfectly composed, looking ten percent bored and ninety percent hyperaware.

You smiled as you tapped your mic. “Let’s open the floor for some-“

Then the floor shook.

An explosion, not close but loud enough to send panic through the crowd.

People screamed. A glass wall shattered.

Chaos.

You turned just as Tony’s voice came over the comms. “We’ve got incoming. Unknown hostiles. All hands now.” It wasn't unusual for this to happen to the Avengers, some idiot trying their luck with a bunch of groupies but never did you think you'd find yourself in the presence of it.

Natasha was on her feet instantly, pulling you behind the stage. “Stay here. Don’t move.” Her voice was steel.

“But-“

“Stay.”

Then she was gone, vanishing into motion like she was never in heels to begin with.

You peeked through the curtain. The rest of the Avengers were already dispersing, charging into the chaos breaking through the building’s west side.

That’s when it happened.

They came from the other side. Half a dozen of them, knock-off tactical gear but heavy firepower and zero hesitation. While the heroes went west, the real plan entered from the east.

The stage was suddenly theirs.

You didn’t get to run. They spotted you immediately, centre spotlight, mic still warm.

“Her!” One barked. “Take her!”

Several hands grabbed you, yanking you back. You fought. Kicked. Bit someone’s wrist hard enough to make them curse.

A gun cracked across your cheek and everything spun.

You hit the ground hard, blood in your mouth, ears ringing. You heard one of them laughing. “Guess she’s tougher than she looks. They must have taught her well.”

Another shoved you forward, dragging you to the middle of the stage.

And through it all, people were still filming. 

Phones up, flashes going. The whole world watching in terror and entertainment.

A voice barked orders. “They’re coming back. When they do, she’s our message.”

They forced you to your knees. One knelt beside you, gun pressed to your head.

You could barely think. Blood was dripping from your temple, running into your left eye, your vision was still a little blurry.

But then somewhere in your haze came a flicker of clarity.

They’re waiting. They want an audience. Buy time.

So you started talking. “You don’t want to do this.”

The man beside you laughed. “Don’t make me sick with some moral high ground bullshit.”

“You want headlines? I’m the headline.” You murmured. “But if you kill me now, they’ll turn you into dust before the article’s even out.”

He raised the gun. “You think I won’t?”

“I think you’re trying really hard to prove something.”

He grabbed your collar. “You’ve got a mouth.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, tasting blood. “So I’ve been told.”

“You won’t have for much longer if you don’t shut the-“

Before he could finish, there was a swooping side then a thud echoed throughout the arena.

He looked confused for exactly half a second.

And then Natasha dropped from above.

No warning.

No sound.

Just a black shape exploding from the ceiling and breaking the first guy’s neck before he even saw her.

Gunfire erupted.

Two more went down before anyone could scream. Blood sprayed, hot, sharp, and too close. You flinched as one of the shooters collapsed behind you, brain matter splattering your shoulder and neck.

Someone screamed, might’ve been you.

Natasha was all motion, all death.

Precision shots. Blades thrown. Hands breaking bones.

Within forty seconds, they were down. All of them.

And you were still on your knees, covered in blood that wasn’t yours, arms shaking as you stared blankly ahead like your brain hadn’t caught up to your body.

“Hey, hey.” Natasha’s voice was suddenly right there, breathless and full of panic she’d never admit.

You blinked.

She was crouched in front of you, hands hovering near your face like she wasn’t sure where she could touch you without hurting you more.

“Don’t. Don’t look at them.” She whispered, reaching out to gently tilt your face away from the bodies. “Look at me.”

Your bottom lip trembled.

She saw it and her heart suddenly shattered.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She murmured, finally pulling you into her arms.

You didn’t even flinch. You just folded into her, arms limp, mind on delay, blood soaking both your clothes as the room lit up with more cameras.

Flashes everywhere.

Security charging in.

Media shouting questions.

But all Natasha could do was hold you tighter, her hand gently cradling the back of your head.

“Don’t look. Don’t move. I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in her life, truly, completely, she didn’t care who was watching.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

They’d tried to get you to go to medical.

You had stubbornly refused. You let Natasha lead you into the Tower instead, silent, pale, still wearing the dress she’d watched you pick that morning, now stained in dried blood and soot.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t ask.

She just walked you to her room.

Straight to her private bathroom, wordless, efficient, careful. On auto pilot, she turned on the shower, tested the temperature and then turned back and started undoing the zipper on your dress like she was defusing a bomb.

You didn’t stop her.

And when she peeled it away when the fabric dropped to the floor and she saw the bruises already forming across your ribs, the cut on your cheek, the blood on your thighs that wasn’t yours, her hands trembled.

She didn’t speak, she didn’t cry.

She just pulled you gently under the stream and followed you in, fully clothed.

You stood in the water, both of you silent, her arms wrapped around you.

She held you as the blood washed away, as your shaking slowed, as the horror finally left your bones.

She didn’t say she was scared.

She didn’t say “I love you.”

But she didn’t have to.

You were alive because she’d come for you.

And now she wasn’t letting go.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

By the time Natasha guided you into the kitchen, it smelled like garlic, rosemary and the kind of comfort you didn’t realize you needed until it wrapped itself around your ribs.

Everyone was there.

Tony in pajama pants and a hoodie he definitely stole from Peter. Steve manning the stove like he wasn’t a genetically enhanced war relic. Clint perched on the counter like a raccoon with snack rights. Wanda and Sam were at the island, quietly chopping vegetables and tossing bread into a pan like it was just another night.

But the second you stepped in, blood gone, skin scrubbed pink, hair damp and clean, something in the air shifted.

No one stared. No one asked.

They just made space.

Natasha’s hand stayed in yours. Not gripping or demanding. Just there, a steady anchor wrapped around your fingers like she was terrified to let go.

She guided you toward a stool at the kitchen island. The seat was still warm.

“Sit.” She said softly.

You did.

A moment later, she placed a plate in front of you. You hadn’t even seen her build it, just that it was perfect. A little pasta. Some grilled chicken. Soft, roasted vegetables. A chunk of warm bread. Light enough that it wasn’t going to make the nauseous in your stomach come out. She set a glass of water down next, watched you until you took a sip.

Your throat felt raw. You didn’t know if it was from crying or not speaking for too long. Maybe both.

But the water helped, so did the food. But what helped more? The way she pulled up a chair beside you, close enough for her knee to brush yours helped more than you could say.

She didn’t push. Didn’t speak unless it was to quietly encourage.

“Eat a little more.”

“You’re doing good.”

“That’s enough for now, if you’re tired.”

She didn’t flinch when your hand trembled against your fork. She just gently covered it with hers and waited until you steadied.

And through it all, the team talked. Not to you. Not at you. Just around you.

Clint was retelling the story of the time he got locked out of a safe house in just a towel and combat boots. Steve was trying not to laugh. Tony kept throwing popcorn at Sam, who was definitely encouraging it.

The volume, the normalcy, it was intentional.

They weren’t pretending nothing had happened.

They were reminding you that you were still here. Still part of this messy, ridiculous family.

You ate enough to quiet the twist in your stomach and Natasha gently tapped your thigh once like permission to move.

You nodded so she led you to the couch, where the rest of the team were settling. 

The lights were low now, TV casting a soft glow across the room. Clint had crashed into an armchair. Wanda curled up with a book. The others slowly trickled out, giving you privacy without making a show of it.

Natasha sat first.

Then waited. Like she knew the choice had to be yours.

You didn’t hesitate. You curled into her like you were made to fit there, your knees tucked to the side, body half in her lap, arms circling her waist like she was the only thing holding your bones together.

And she was.

Her arms wrapped around you instantly, not too tight or too tentative. Her hand slid up and down your back, slow and steady, not even really a rhythm, just a presence. Her fingertips brushed over the cut on your side, the bruising forming beneath your ribs. She didn’t flinch. Just pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head then rested her cheek there.

You felt her breathing. The rise and fall of her chest. The soft thrum of her pulse where your face pressed against her.

You could still smell the shampoo from your shared shower, Still feel the echo of gunshots vibrating through your skull.

But here? There was only her. Her heartbeat. Her hands. Her warmth.

The world had turned to static but this was real.

Your fingers curled into the hem of her shirt. Her breath caught. You didn’t speak. You just let yourself go limp. Let yourself trust her to hold you. And she did.

For minutes. Maybe hours. You didn’t know. Time melted into warmth and pressure and breath.

You felt your body sink. Your limbs get heavy. The weight of everything you’d been holding finally released.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. But you did.

Your face pressed into her neck. Your fingers curled in her shirt like an anchor. Your whole body slumped into her, safe for the first time since you’d stood on that stage and watched the gun swing your way.

And Natasha? She didn’t move. Not when Steve peeked round and saw the two of you. Not when Tony whispered ‘She’s out cold’ and backed out like a cartoon villain sneaking offstage. Not even when your breath hitched in your sleep and your fingers gripped tighter.

She just held you, rocked you a little when you shifted in your unconscious state, whispered something in Russian you didn’t understand but your bones did.

And when she finally rested her chin on your head and let her eyes close, it was the first time she’d slept without her gun within reach in years.

Because you were worth the risk.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You woke slowly, with warmth and with weight. With the soft, steady rhythm of someone else breathing beneath you.

It took a moment to realize where you were. Curled up in the Tower’s living room, a blanket you didn’t remember being tucked around you, your entire body molded into the side of one Natasha Romanoff.

Her arms were still wrapped around you.

One hand resting lightly on your hip. The other threaded through your hair. She was leaned back into the couch cushions, head tilted, cheek resting on yours.

And she was awake. Barely.

But awake. Her thumb brushed absently over the fabric of your shirt like she’d never stopped touching you all night.

You stirred gently, shifting just enough to look up at her. Her eyes found yours instantly.

“Hey.” You whispered, voice raspy.

Her fingers tightened slightly. “Morning.” 

You could hear the relief in her tone, even though she’d been awake for who knows how long, holding you like you’d slip through her arms if she so much as blinked.

You smiled, a little shy, a little raw. “Thank you.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For…” You hesitated then leaned your forehead against hers. “All of it. Coming for me. Holding me. Letting me lose it and not making me feel stupid for it.”

“You weren’t stupid.” She said, instantly.

Her voice was steel for a split second, instinctive and protective.

Then she softened again. “You were brave. And you scared the hell out of me.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I scared myself.”

“You nearly died.”

You opened your eyes. Her face was so close now, too close to hide anything.

“Yeah.” You whispered. “But you made sure I didn’t.”

Her hand came up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You don’t get to do that again.”

You blinked.

“Run in alone. Put yourself in the line of fire. Be brave like that. Not if I’m not right behind you.”

You nodded slowly. “Deal.”

“Good.” Her voice dropped, husky from too little sleep. “Because next time, I’m bodychecking you to the floor before you can even try it.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You made it to the kitchen eventually.

You walked on your own, talked in full sentences, even made a very weak joke. But none of that mattered to Natasha, apparently, who sat right beside you, close enough to supervise your water intake like it was a security clearance.

The team was all around. Chatting, joking, pretending to ignore how Natasha gently nudged your glass toward you every ten minutes. 

“Drink.” She ordered.

“I just did.”

“Again.”

You sighed. “You know I’m okay now, right?”

“Mm.” She passed you a forkful of eggs from her plate, held out expectantly. “One more bite.”

You gave her a look.

“I’ll tase you.” She said sweetly.

Clint snorted into his coffee. “You guys gonna go full domestic before lunch or…”

You blushed. Natasha did not.

Instead, she calmly fed you another bite.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Should we be leaving the room?”

“No.” Wanda said, sipping tea. “This is adorable. This is my show now.”

Natasha didn’t seem to care who was watching anymore. She just rubbed slow, absent circles against your back with one hand while eating toast with the other.

You sighed, leaning your weight against her. “I should probably… do something about the PR fallout. That whole gun to the head on stage thing probably has the internet in flames.”

Tony, from across the kitchen, muttered. “You think?”

But before you could reach for your phone, Clint raised a hand. “Handled.”

You blinked. “Handled what?”

He smirked and slid his phone across the table.

The screen showed a picture.

You.

Asleep.

Curled up impossibly tight against Natasha, half in her lap, cheek pressed to her chest, her arms wrapped around you like she was guarding the last piece of something sacred.

The blanket had slipped halfway down. Her hand was tangled in your hair. The photo wasn’t posed, it was intimate and safe.

He tapped the caption.

They’re both okay. Healing. Alive. Let them rest. ❤️ #PRSPYAGENDA #IDONTHAVEPERMISSIONTOPOSTTHIS #NATWILLKILLMEFORHER #FINDMYBODY 

Below it? Hundreds of thousands of likes and comments flooding in.

‘Not me crying at 8am…’

‘Can someone hug me like that???’

‘I will never be over this!’

‘When’s the wedding?’

‘We ride at dawn!’

You blinked hard.

Natasha leaned over your shoulder, reading. “Subtle.” She murmured but she couldn’t hide her smirk.

Clint raised his coffee. “I have range.”

You turned, giving Natasha a look. “So… we’re soft-launched again?”

She brushed her thumb along your cheekbone, looking right at you.  “No.” She laughed. “I think the kids call that a hard launch.”

You melted a little.

And when she pulled you back in to rest against her chest again, arms around your waist, lips against your hair, you didn’t fight it.

Wanda squealed from somewhere behind you. “They’re SO ENDGAME!”

[keeryhours]

real love, baby - chapter three

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You have your appointment to see the baby for the first time

Warnings:

Pregnancy, shitty parents, bullying

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! and thank you @punkrockmlchael and @the-witty-pen-name for all your help with this one 😩🙏🏻

8 weeks pregnant

Baby is the size of a raspberry

“Can you see a difference?”

You stood in front of your mirror, shirt held up under your chest to reveal your stomach. Eddie lounged back on your bed, watching you.

“I still don’t see anything,” Eddie said. “You sure there’s something in there?”

“We’ll know for sure tomorrow,” you reminded him. Your heart sped up in your chest at the thought of your first ultrasound, the thought of seeing your baby for the first time. Eddie would be taking you so you didn’t have to go alone.

“Are you excited?”

“Super excited,” you smiled. You rubbed your hand over your stomach, still nothing there. “I’m a little excited to have a bump, but also dreading it.”

“There’s no hiding from it then,” he said, hanging upside down off the side of your bed. His curls brushed against the carpet. “You ready for that?”

“No,” you admitted. “I mean, everyone at school already knows. But I’m not prepared to tell my parents.”

“I don’t blame you. That’s not going to go well.”

“Thanks,” you said sarcastically. You pulled your shirt back down, flopping down on the bed next to Eddie. “But I know. They’re going to kill me.”

“That’s probably putting it lightly,” Eddie said, sitting up to look at you. “They’re going to freak.”

“That’s why I’m waiting as long as possible to tell them.” You leaned against the headboard, feet stuck in Eddie’s lap. “Good plan or bad plan?”

“Totally foolproof, nothing can go wrong,” Eddie said. He gave you a teasing smile- you and he both knew telling your parents at any point would be a disaster, but you also knew Eddie would be there for you no matter what. “Have you talked to Billy anymore?”

“Not since 2 weeks ago when he cornered me about the abortion,” you sighed. It felt like all you did anymore was think about Billy. “He’s back to pretending I don’t exist.

“That’s so fucked,” Eddie said. He rubbed your bare legs that lay splayed across his lap. “I’m sorry. I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised, but still. He’s an ass.”

“No, I know,” you said, sinking down the bed until you were laying on your pillows. You pulled one over and hugged it across your chest. “I walked right into this one.”

“A little bit.”

You kicked Eddie, making him laugh. “You’re always so supportive and helpful and not at all judgmental, Ed.”

“Hey, I try to be,” Eddie said, laughing. At least you could laugh about it.

The next day after school, you rushed out of the building quickly. Your appointment was 30 minutes after school ended and you did not want to be late. You found Eddie waiting by the van already, keys in hand and ready to go.

“You ready, mama?” He asked as you both climbed into the van, and you gave him a look.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you said, taking a deep breath. The truth was, you were horribly nervous. You felt like you could be sick, and it was hard to breathe deeply.

“You’re going to be okay, you know that?” Eddie said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his right one. He drove the van one handed, the short drive to the doctor’s office feeling like a million years.

“I know,” you said, giving Eddie a weak smile although you didn’t quite believe yourself.

He pulled into the parking lot of the office, killing the engine of the van and turning to you. “Do you want me to go back with you?”

“Would you?” You looked at him hopefully, not wanting to go alone. You wouldn’t blame him if he felt weird about it and didn’t want to go, but you hated the idea of doing any of this pregnancy alone.

“Of course I will,” he said, squeezing your hand. “C’mon, let’s go. I got you.”

The waiting room of this doctor’s office was more cheerful than the last one. The walls were painted a bright yellow color, and there were photos of babies decorating the walls. A TV hung on one side of the room, playing a rerun of Three’s Company.

When the nurse called your name, Eddie followed you to the back. She smiled politely at you, holding the clipboard against her blue scrubs and leading you back to the exam room.

“You can change into this gown and take a seat on the exam table,” she said. “Dad, you can take one of the chairs over there.”

“Oh, I’m not-“ Eddie started to correct her, but the nurse wasn’t listening, already moving on to grabbing the blood pressure cuff.

Eddie didn’t entirely mind playing dad for the day. It was no different than the times you’d lied to his extended family that you were dating, right? He knew he wasn’t the father, but it was interesting to see what it would feel like.

The nurse went through the usual things - blood pressure, temperature, weight. She left the room when she was done, leaving you and Eddie alone in the room.

“Eddie, cut that out!” You hissed as Eddie looked through the cabinets and drawers.

“What? They wouldn’t just leave it here if they didn’t want us to take it,” Eddie said, pocketing a handful of band aids.

A few minutes later the tech walked in, greeting you both before sitting in front of the ultrasound machine. Eddie moved his chair closer to you as she put the gel on your stomach and began the examination, the screen turned away from you.

“Is…everything okay?” Eddie asked nervously, speaking the words you were too afraid to say yourself.

“Everything looks good,” she said with a kind smile. She turned the screen, and there was…a little bean shaped thing. “This is your baby. You’re measuring exactly 8 weeks.”

Your eyes went wide, taking in the sight of the little wiggling baby. It didn’t look anything like a baby yet, but you still felt unimaginably connected to it. It was a bizarre feeling. That was your baby.

“At least it’s not twins,” Eddie joked, but you were barely listening.

In that moment you felt an acute awareness of Billy’s absence. Despite the fact that Billy hadn’t had anything to do with this pregnancy and had even insisted on an abortion, you hadn’t thought much about what he was missing out on. But this? You couldn’t help but picture the blonde beside you in Eddie’s place, getting that first glimpse of his child. How he’d place his hand on your belly to feel, or maybe even talk to the baby through your belly, play them his favorite music. Every time this happened, you pictured Billy as a good father.

But he wasn’t here.

The tech clicked something on the machine, and a rhythmic whooshing sound filled the room. “That’s the heartbeat,” she said. “A strong one!”

That filled you with pride- your baby was strong. It felt good to hear. You had been worried that things weren’t going well, one of the reasons you’d been dreading this appointment so badly. You didn’t know what you would do if something happened to the baby at this point.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Eddie asked.

The tech didn’t make him feel stupid for the question. “It’s still too early to tell. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Eddie said confidently. “I just have a feeling.”

“I think it could be a boy,” you said, but you really didn’t know or mind either way. You could picture yourself with a son or a daughter. Billy would-

And there you go daydreaming again.

“Would you like some prints?” The tech asked as she wrapped up the exam, wiping the gel off your stomach. You nodded quickly - these were the first ever photos of your baby. You would have to hide them, but you wanted them. She gave you multiple copies, in case you wanted to share.

You walked out of the office feeling better than you had coming in, ultrasound photos gripped in your hand. There was no hiding from it now - there was a baby, alive and growing in your belly. Eddie kept one of the photos, claiming he was entitled to one as the godfather, a title he had awarded himself.

You were grateful for him, he had been an amazing friend to you before and during this. You had worried that he’d want nothing to do with it, that he’d be mad at you for getting yourself into this position to begin with. But he hadn’t given you any kind of judgement, only support.

If only you and Eddie loved each other as more than friends, if the rumors around school about you had been true, things might be simpler.

Theoretically, Eddie was the perfect guy for you. Best friends who never got tired of each other, same interests, attracted to each other. But you couldn’t help who you were and weren’t in love with, and you just didn’t feel that type of way about Eddie.

Yet here he was, willing to be judged alongside you without saying a single word about the truth. He was just willing to let the whole school call him names and think that he is the father of this baby, willing to walk beside you in front of the judgemental people of Hawkins. Ready to face your parents, who already hated him, when the time came just so you didn’t have to tell them the father wouldn’t be in the picture.

You didn’t understand it. But that was just Eddie.

The next day at school, you passed Billy a note in 2nd period.

“Can we talk?”

You watched as he opened the note, eyes darting up to you as he gave you an unreadable expression before folding the note back up. You weren’t sure what kind of answer that was.

After class he nodded at you to follow him into the empty science classroom, and you obeyed. Things always were on Billy’s terms.

“What?” He hissed once safely inside the locked classroom. He leaned against one of the tables. “Did you change your mind?”

“No, Billy, I didn’t change my mind.”

“Then why are you talking to me?” He asked simply.

His words stung deeply, but you didn’t dwell on them for long. “I had my first appointment yesterday. I thought you might want to know.”

You didn’t know how he was going to respond to that. Billy was always so unpredictable. He looked at you, his eyes roaming your figure. “Is it…was…everything okay?”

That was better than him blowing up. “They said everything was looking great. I’m 8 weeks and they have a strong heartbeat.”

Billy huffs something like a small laugh. Like yeah, it’s my baby, of course they’re strong. “Well that’s….good.”

You smiled softly. “Do you…want to see a picture?”

“They gave you pictures?” He asked with his brows raised. “I’ve never even seen a baby that small.”

You laughed - “It looks more like a little bean right now, but-“ you dug through your bag until you pulled out one of the prints, handing it over to Billy.

Billy took the photo from your fingers gingerly, like he was afraid he’d break something. He held it up to his face with a slight tremble in his hands, seeing the digital text on the photo - Hi mom and dad! - with an arrow pointing to the small blob.

“That’s really it?” He asked, his voice almost incredulous. “That’s the baby?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Pretty crazy, right?”

Billy just stared at the photo. Eventually he looked up at you, his expression once again unreadable. “Can I keep this?”

“What?” The question caught you off guard.

“The picture? Can I keep it?” Billy repeated.

You did have multiple copies of the sonogram, but you were surprised he wanted one at all. “Yeah, sure,” you finally answered him, feeling like an ass for looking like you had to think about it for so long.

“How are you feeling with…everything?”

That question surprised you, too. “I’m okay. Still feeling sick and all the other usual symptoms. But nothing too bad.”

Billy nodded. It was quiet again. Then, “What do you think it’s gonna be?”

“I think it’s a boy,” you said, smiling softly. “But Eddie’s convinced it’s a girl.”

“Either way would be- wait, Eddie?”

You looked at him. “Yeah. Eddie thinks it’s a girl.”

“Did he…go to the appointment with you?” There was something swirling behind his blue eyes, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t want to go alone.”

“Oh.”

There was another minute of silence between you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think Billy was hurt. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to go,” you said finally.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” Billy said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, taking one between his lips. “I’ve got to get back to class.” You watched as he turned in the complete opposite direction and walked out the back door, lighting the cigarette as he left.

Billy’s mind swirled with thoughts as he walked away - that was his baby. His baby. That everyone thought belonged to Eddie. It honestly pissed him off, but it was his own fault and he knew it. He could step out right now and say he was the father, but he wouldn’t do that. He was too much of a coward.

He thought of what his father would say. He couldn’t hide this forever, he knew. It would all come out eventually. Billy dragged on his cigarette as he thought of how Neil would react. And wouldn’t he deserve it? It was his fault you were pregnant and his fault you were doing it alone. Would his dad kick him out? What would happen to you? Would he be able to get a job and help take care of you and the baby?

He was getting ahead of himself again, thinking about the what if’s of letting himself get involved. He couldn’t do that. You and that kid were better off without him. It was bad enough he passed on his genes, but there was no escaping that one now.

But did he really want to be a deadbeat dad? The type of guy who he had no respect for, and now that’s exactly who he was shaping up to be. Is this what he wanted for himself? For his kid?

When he finished the cigarette, he tossed it to the side, then folded the photo carefully and stuck it in his wallet.

Back in class, Billy ignored you again. You almost thought you dreamed the whole encounter, but the missing sonogram in your bag proved it happened. Billy had really acted like he cared. That was totally unlike him.

When Carol and Tina started whispering and giggling at you, that seemed a bit more normal. You just didn’t know what was so interesting this time.

After class they waited for you, popping their bubblegum as they leaned against their desks. “Overheard your Freak boyfriend telling his friends you saw the baby yesterday. How cute,” Carol quipped.

You ignored them, trying to walk by just as Tommy and Billy came up behind them. “What’s going on?” Billy asked.

Carol and Tina looked up at them, malicious grins on their stupid faces. “I just heard the Freaks got to see their baby yesterday. I just wanted to congratulate her.”

Tommy snickered. “How sweet.”

Billy avoided your gaze. “Carol, just leave her alone. It’s not worth it, is it?”

Carol, Tina, and Tommy all gave him a confused look. Because when has he ever cared about making fun of you?

“I just mean,” Billy said, scrambling to recover, “she’s already pregnant in high school. That’s sad enough.”

His friends laughed, and by that point they were moving on to a different conversation. The girls turned and left, Tommy and Billy following behind. You wondered what Tina would think if she knew the truth about her crush.

Eddie dropped you off at home after school, and you were disappointed to see your parents home. You made sure the sonograms were buried deeply in your bag before you got out of the van.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Eddie asked, sensing your anxiety. “D’you want me to come in with you?”

“I think that might make things worse,” you attempted to joke, even though your words were true. Your parents hated Eddie.

“Call me if you need a getaway driver,” he called as you hopped out of the van, and you smiled at him. You caught sight of his copy of the ultrasound photo stuck in his sun visor.

You took a deep breath as you walked up the front steps of the house. As long as you didn’t set them off, this didn’t have to go poorly. You could get upstairs to your room and be left alone all evening.

Your hopes were dashed when you walked inside and your dad immediately called your name. You changed course and walked into the kitchen, finding both your parents standing their looking at you, your mother nursing a glass of wine while your dad held a scotch.

“Honey, your doctor called,” your mom began.

Your blood ran cold. You thought you would be sick on the spot. This could not be happening right now, you were not ready to tell them. But they seemed…oddly calm.

“Oh yeah?” You said, gauging the situation.

“They just said your prescription for Zofran was sent to the pharmacy. Have you been feeling sick?”

You let out a breath. “Oh, yeah, a little. They said it was probably just a stomach bug.”

Your father sipped his scotch. “You’re not going to use this as an excuse to skip school, right?”

“No, sir,” you said. You knew if you didn’t speak to him that way, it would be a whole other world of trouble.

“Good,” he said, “because you want to get into a good school, don’t you? We’ve discussed this.”

“Yes, sir,” you said. Your parents had always made their expectations clear. If you didn’t get into a school they deemed appropriate, they wouldn’t be supporting you any more.

“And I saw that van driving off,” your father added. “I thought we talked about not spending any more time with people like that.”

“People like what?” You asked, knowing better but your anger snapping uncontrollably. “Eddie’s my best friend.”

“The boy sells drugs,” your mother added. “He lives in a….”

“A trailer park?” You finished for her. “Is that what you were about to say?”

“He’s dragging you down,” your father’s voice boomed. “You are too good to be hanging out with his type. Why don’t you go out with the Harrington boy? Now that’s a nice kid, respectable parents-“

“Steve doesn’t even know I exist,” you scoff. “And his friends are dicks.”

“I’m just saying,” your father continued, “you need to keep better company before you’re knocked up and stuck with your choices.”

If only he’d known how cruel his words really were, how deeply they had struck. He would probably be pleased with himself. You turned and ran up the stairs, the tears in your eyes falling whether you wanted them to or not. In the safety of your room you jumped onto your bed, sobbing into your pillows.

What the fuck were you supposed to do?

tag list

@rincallistis @holb32 @missingbillyhargrove @fandom-princess-forevermore @kenmasabg @pinklyred @seedlingghost @swiftieintheupsidedown @strangerthing93 @losingmygrasponreality @jaybbygrl

[tacobacoyeet]

stanfordish!young!art x pregnant! reader

had this in my head during class and typed it out on my phone LOL tw smut!!!!

-you don’t even get the words out properly. you just hold up the test with trembling hands and whisper, “art…”

-he stares at it like it’s a bomb for a full ten seconds. frozen. blinking. absolutely no thoughts behind his eyes

-and then he goes, in the softest, most heartbroken voice, “are you okay?”

-immediately pulls you into him, hands cradling the back of your head like you’re made of glass. “are we okay? are you scared? baby, what do you need?”

-he starts crying before you even do. like not full sobbing, but his face just crumples. “we made a person,” he says with this weird half-laugh, half-sob. “holy shit, we made a person.”

-he icks you the hell out LOL. you tell him he's being fucking weird. i would

-anyway. goes into overdrive within hours. makes a doctor’s appointment, orders five different prenatal books, texts his coach “i won’t be at training today” with no explanation

-so gentle with you in the hours after. tucks you into bed even though it’s 3 p.m., curls up next to you and keeps whispering the sweetest shit

-he’s so emotionally overwhelmed he starts cleaning. like aggressively. it’s the nesting instinct, except it’s his nesting instinct and it’s immediate. reorganizing drawers. researching vitamins. mopping the floor at 2 a.m.

-he starts writing in a little notebook he keeps hidden in his tennis bag. letters to the baby. day one is just: “i found out about you today. i hope you have her eyes. i hope I deserve you.”

-doesn't stop touching you. hand on your thigh, fingers laced with yours, palm against your stomach even when there's no bump yet. just needs the reassurance that you're both real

-you catch him staring off into space later that week, and when you ask what's wrong he just says, "i’m not scared of being a dad. i’m scared of not being good enough"

-he gets super still after that. you pull him close and kiss his forehead. he cries again

-and then, because he’s art, he makes a stupid joke to cut the tension: “this kid is going to be a wreck”

-but later that night, when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers against your stomach: “I’m so glad it’s you. I’m so glad it’s us.”

-he literally cannot function if you lift even a finger. he will take your shoes off, fluff your pillow, and freak out if you so much as bend over

-“you’re pregnant,” he says with that tortured puppy look, “why would you even think about picking up your backpack?”

-the moment you start showing? he’s done for. like physically incapable of focusing on anything else when you’re in the room. wide eyes, slack jaw, hand always gravitating to your belly like it’s magnetic

-“you’re growing a whole human,” he whispers one night in the dark, tracing the swell of your stomach. “that’s literally god-tier behavior.”

-he talks to the bump like it’s his tiny best friend. “hey, it’s dad. your mom won’t let me feed her pickles and whipped cream at the same time. help me out here.”

-so proud of your changing body. like obsessed. “you look insane right now. angelic. powerful. absolutely unreal.” and then he has to sit down because he’s overwhelmed. just a white boy overwhelmed with the power of female anatomy culture

-he lowk becomes the pregnancy police. “did you drink enough water today?” “have you peed recently?” “i brought you three snacks. no, I insist.”

-also soooooo emo about it. like you’ll find him just staring at the ultrasound photo with glassy eyes, and when you ask what’s wrong he’s like, “nothing. it’s just… you’re my family now”

-once cried during a prenatal yoga class because you looked “so peaceful and maternal” while doing a cat-cow stretch. you had to bribe him with froyo to stop sniffling

-has a playlist titled 'baby bonding'. plays it while reading aloud to your belly like it’s storytime at the library

-constantly kissing your belly. at home. in public. before bed. before class. “you’re already the best thing i’ve ever made,” he tells your bump, and then panics because you heard him and now he’s blushing

-absolutely cannot handle how tired you get. if you so much as yawn, he’s tucking you in, canceling plans, whispering “my poor baby” like you just ran a marathon

-not above weaponizing how hot you are. you’ll catch him staring and be like “what?” and he’ll go “nothing. you just look…really good pregnant. like, devastatingly hot.” (and then trip over something. so sweet)

-insists on being the one to rub your back, massage your feet, bring you snacks. feels like he needs to earn the dad title

-and even though he’s overwhelmed and scared sometimes, the way he looks at you, like you’re the beginning and end of every good thing in his life— never falters

-he gets extra needy at night. being close to you, touching you, kissing you. sometimes he just lies between your thighs, head resting on your belly, whispering nonsense and kissing your skin

-you can tell it gets to him when you moan, even from something simple like a massage. he tries to play it cool but his eyes darken, his voice gets low: “you’re gonna drive me insane”

-the first time you have sex after the bump really shows, he goes so slow it’s almost unbearable. he keeps asking if you’re okay, if anything hurts, if he can keep going. you have to pull him in by the collar and kiss him breathless just to shut him up

-worships your body like it’s sacred. palms sliding reverently over your hips, your chest, your belly. tells you over and over how beautiful you are, how full of life, how lucky he is to even touch you

-sometimes he just wants to watch. you ride him slow while he groans under you, hands gripping your thighs, utterly entranced. “look at you,” he whispers. “you’re unreal. you’re everything.”

-he’ll fuck you with one hand on your belly and the other tangled in your hair, eyes locked on yours the whole time. it always ends in whispered praise, shaky breathing, and him clutching you like you’ll disappear

-can you guys tell i've been ovulating this week

[xoxoch3rry]

𝕋𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟?

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

ᴳᴵᶠ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ~

Word count: 1,160

────

Colby Brock x fem!reader

Warnings: Sexual tension…

Summary: Some fans have noticed the tension between you and Colby.

────⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆˖ ࣪⊹────

You couldn’t remember a time when Sam and Colby weren’t a part of your life. Since the ninth grade, the three of you had been inseparable, navigating high school’s ups and downs as a tight-knit trio. From late-night study sessions that turned into chaotic video game marathons to sneaking into abandoned places long before it became a YouTube sensation, you did everything together.

Now, years later, things had changed—and yet, somehow, they hadn’t. You lived, worked, traveled, and filmed with Sam and Colby. Together, you built something extraordinary: a community of fans who hung on every thrilling exploration, every eerie EVP session, and every hilarious moment of chaos you three captured on camera. To everyone else, it was the dream life. And in many ways, it was.

But there was one thing you hadn’t told anyone—not Sam, not the fans, and especially not Colby. 

You’d been in love with him for as long as you could remember.

It had started small, back in high school, when his goofy smile and infectious laughter had the power to light up your worst days. Over time, those feelings grew. The way he moved with quiet confidence, the way he spoke with such passion about the things he loved, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention—all of it made your heart race. And the longer you knew him, the stronger those feelings became.

But you never said a word. It was easier to keep it locked away, buried beneath the easy banter and constant companionship. After all, you had a good thing going. Why risk ruining it?

---

The three of you had just returned from another exploration, this time at an abandoned hospital said to be haunted by the spirit of a doctor who never left. The shoot had gone late into the night, and you were exhausted, sprawled across the couch in your shared Airbnb. Sam was editing footage at the dining table, earbuds in, while Colby sat beside you, scrolling through fan tweets on his phone.

“Did you see this?” Colby asked, holding his phone up to you. “They’re already freaking out about the teaser Sam posted.”

You glanced at the screen, laughing softly at the flood of all-caps comments and heart emojis. “Of course they are. You guys are basically ghost-hunting rock stars.”

He nudged you playfully. “You mean *we* are.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he looked at you, his blue eyes warm and full of that signature Colby charm. You quickly turned your attention back to your phone, hoping he didn’t notice the way your cheeks were heating up. 

It was moments like this—small, quiet, and undeniably intimate—that made it so hard to keep your feelings in check.

---

The next morning, Sam burst into the living room, phone in hand, looking equal parts amused and exasperated. “Okay, so... have you seen the comments on last night’s video?”

You and Colby exchanged a confused glance. “What comments?” you asked.

Sam grinned, clearly relishing whatever he was about to say. “The fans are convinced there’s some major sexual tension between you two.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

Colby’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, between us?” 

Sam nodded, scrolling through the comments section. “Look at this: ‘The way Colby looks at Y/N... y’all, I’m sweating.’” He scrolled again. “‘That whole scene in the basement? Tell me I’m not the only one who noticed the tension.’” He looked up at you both, smirking. “You guys have some explaining to do.”

Your face burned. “They’re reading way too much into it. We’re just... friends.”

“Really good friends,” Colby added, his voice a little too casual.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

You avoided Colby’s gaze, but you could feel him looking at you. The memory of that basement scene flashed in your mind—the two of you standing close, whispering to each other as the EMF reader flickered in your hands. You’d felt the tension then, too, but you’d convinced yourself it was just your imagination. Apparently, the fans hadn’t.

---

For the next few days, the comments didn’t let up. Fans flooded your social media with edits of you and Colby, complete with romantic music and dramatic captions. At first, you laughed it off, but the more you saw them, the harder it became to ignore the feelings you’d worked so hard to suppress.

Colby didn’t make it any easier. Whether he was aware of it or not, he seemed to be closer than usual—sitting next to you during car rides, leaning in when he talked to you, touching your arm when he laughed. Each moment sent your heart racing, and you hated how obvious it felt.

One night, after a long day of filming, you found yourself alone with him in the living room. Sam had gone to bed early, and the house was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. You were scrolling through your phone, trying to ignore the growing tension between you, when Colby broke the silence.

“Do you think they’re right?”

You looked up, startled. “What?”

“The fans.” He leaned back against the couch, his eyes searching yours. “Do you think there’s... tension between us?”

Your mouth went dry. “I... I don’t know. Do you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he admitted, his voice low. “And... maybe they’re not completely wrong.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Colby...”

“I’m serious,” he said, turning to face you fully. “We’ve known each other forever, and I don’t want to mess that up. But sometimes... I feel like there’s something more here. And maybe I’ve been too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to lose what we have.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Was this really happening? “You’ve been scared?” you echoed. “Colby, I’ve had a crush on you since ninth grade.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

You shook your head, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Nope. And it’s only gotten worse over the years.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process your words. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. “So... what do we do about it?”

You hesitated, your heart in your throat. “I don’t know. I mean, what if this changes everything?”

“Maybe it will,” he said softly. “But maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

He reached for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “We’ve always done everything together, right? Maybe it’s time we figure this out... together.”

You felt the weight of his words, the sincerity in his eyes, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to hope. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s figure it out.”

As his fingers intertwined with yours, you couldn’t help but smile. For once, the tension wasn’t something to hide from. It was something to embrace.