#i REALLY like cross here i think he turned out good

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - EIGHT

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion.

MASTERLIST

Topper prided himself in keeping out of people’s business.

He hadn’t noticed anything was off with you on his own, he wouldn’t have; he didn’t do the whole “emotional radar” thing.

But Rafe had practically cornered him, demanding he figure out what was going on with you.

You were his cousin, after all. 

That didn’t stop the way his stomach twisted from thinking about lying to you, or how every part of him had always silently rooted for you and Rafe. He’d loved seeing you two together. You were a mess most days, for years, sure, but it was the kind of mess that made sense in a way, and Topper couldn’t help but admire it.

You were like fire and gasoline.

But that was before the break-up, before everything got fucked.

Now, you were just… distant. He never knew how to approach you without feeling like he was crossing a line, but the way you’d passed out on Rafe at the beach had him worrying in a way that was more personal than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t a thinker, not really, he liked simple things: good waves, cold beer, and not getting roped into drama.

But there he was, standing outside your door with Korean fried chicken. He didn’t do feelings, and he didn’t do heavy conversations. Rafe owed him big for this. The conversation had been good, even when you started talking about Sarah and Ruthie. 

Topper was all in—laughing along, throwing in a dumb joke here and there, the usual. It felt nice, like when you were kids, sneaking your dad’s beers and pretending you weren’t gonna get caught.

But then he had to go and ruin it by asking if you were okay.

You went all stiff, then weirdly far away, laughing it off like he’d just asked you to explain calculus or something. You mumbled something about being fine and then bolted to the bathroom before he could even follow up with his usual Topper-brand wisdom.

He sat there, feeling uncomfortable, which wasn’t a thing he usually did. You were acting off, and it was messing with him more than he wanted to admit.

Finally, he decided he needed to move, so he got up to grab some water. Except, as he walked past the counter, his hip caught a pile of your mail, and an envelope went sliding to the floor.

“Crap,” he muttered, crouching to grab it. It was just some random envelope, but there was a phone number written on the front in messy blue ink.

Topper didn’t think about it—because thinking wasn’t really his strong suit—he just whipped out his phone and typed it in. Curiosity, man. It got him every time.

He hit call. He wasn’t trying to snoop or anything. It was just one of those things you do on autopilot, right? Call a number just to see who answers? Except this time, someone did answer.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then:

“Women’s Health Center, how can I help you?”

His brain short-circuited, full-on panic mode. He stared at the phone like it had grown a second screen, then frantically hit the hang-up button just as the bathroom door creaked open.

You were back.

Topper, sweating for no reason, slapped the envelope back on the counter like it was about to explode and turned to you with a smile that definitely didn’t match his pounding heart.

He got out of there as soon as possible, as he drove to meet Rafe, the whole thing was still playing on a loop in his head. That phone number, the voice on the other end of the line, the way you’d acted when he’d asked if you were okay—he couldn’t stop trying to force the pieces into place.

Something was going on, he wasn't sure what, and he wasn’t exactly the guy you went to for deep insights, but he felt something was up.

When he pulled into Tanyhill, he spotted Rafe leaning against his truck, scrolling through his phone with that permanent scowl he seemed to have these days. He barely had the car in park before Rafe was pushing off the truck and heading his way.

He climbed out, doing his best to act normal—which, for him, meant cracking the same goofy grin he always did. His mind was still spinning with a dozen half-formed thoughts about that phone call, that clinic, and how the the fuck he might fit into all of it. 

The only thing he knew for sure was that Rafe knowing could be catastrophic. Like, meteor-hits-earth catastrophic.

“You gotta chill,” Topper said, slamming his car door shut and giving Rafe a once-over. “Why do you look like you’re about to punch somebody?”

Rafe just glared, shoving his phone in his pocket. “What’d you find out?”

He blinked, thrown by how fast he cut to the point. “Nice to see you, too. Second, what makes you think I found out anything?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Top. Did you figure it out or not?”

“Yeah, I figured it out,” Topper shot back, crossing his arms. “But why the hell did you make me go through all this work if you already know what’s going on?”

Rafe shrugged, leaning back against the truck like this was all just some casual conversation. “Didn’t think you’d actually get it, to be honest.”

“Bro, I’m not that stupid. How did you get to the bottom of this shit? I’m still confused as fuck over here.”

Rafe’s mouth twitched like he was deciding whether to smirk or yell, hesettled on neither. “She passed out on me, remember?”

“So?” Topper shot back, frowning. “I’ve seen you pass out for, like, way less.”

“It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a hangover or heat stroke, it was different. And she’s been weird lately, avoiding everyone.” Rafe leaned back against his truck, arms crossed, talking fast. “The hospital did blood work.”

Topper, who’d been zoning out halfway through his little doctor act, suddenly perked up.

“Wow,” he mused, dragging the word out. “Okay. So, how’d you take the news? I mean, shit, you look pretty calm for once. Didn’t think that was in your wheelhouse."

Rafe frowned, his sharp blue eyes narrowing, the crease between his brows deepening like it always did when he thought someone was wasting his time. 

"The fuck are you talking about?”

Topper shrugged like this was totally normal. “I just expected you to, like…freak out or somethin'. Throw a punch, maybe.”

“Throw a punch about what?” Rafe snapped.

“About—” Topper paused, squinting at Rafe like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Wait. What are you supposed to do?”

Rafe’s hand twitched toward his jaw, fingers brushing over the stubble there, a telltale sign that he was gearing up to lose patience. He didn’t wait for Topper to answer before shaking his head, the movement quick and irritated. 

“Don’t do that, man,” he added, pointing a finger “I’ll help her figure it out. What else can I do?”

Topper tilted his head, genuinely impressed. “Damn. You really matured, huh? I mean, good for you.”

“Top, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rafe demanded, his tone sharp now like he was finally catching on to the fact that they weren’t on the same page.

Topper blinked, “I’m just saying you’re handling it better than I thought. Especially since she’s not—uh, showing yet.”

“Not showing what?”

“…The bump?”

He immediately realized he’d said the wrong thing, or maybe the right thing, but in the wrong tone, with the wrong level of context, and—okay, maybe he should just stop talking. 

Abort mission, abort mission. Topper immediately wanted to crawl into a hole. Dude, shut up, shut up, shut up.

“What the fuck?” Rafe’s voice cracked; his eyes blazing as he stepped closer. “What bump?!”

His laugh fizzled out under Rafe’s glare, it was starting to feel less like “concerned ex-boyfriend” and more like “interrogating cop.” He felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. 

Cool. Stay cool.

“Wait,” Topper held his hands up, trying to physically stop the situation from spiraling. “What do you think is wrong with her?”

His brain was spinning in a way it wasn’t built for. He was a simple guy—he liked clear problems and easy fixes. But this? This was a category-five disaster, and he was stuck right in the middle of it.

Rafe let out a sharp breath through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair, the small strands sticking up in every direction.

“I think she’s got a fucking infection! Why the hell would I think she’s pregnant?”

Topper hesitated, glancing toward the house like maybe Sarah or Wheezie might miraculously appear to save him. No such luck.

“Well fucking shit,” Topper blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. His heart was pounding, and he was pretty sure he’d just signed his death warrant. “I—I didn’t say she’s pregnant, okay? I found this number, and it was for a women’s health center, and—fuck, man, I’m dead. I’m so dead.”

Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close. “Start talking. Now.”

“I wasn’t snooping, okay? It just—happened. I wasn’t trying to get in her business, but—”

“But what?” Rafe barked. His other hand twitched at his side, curling into a fist before flexing out again, a warning of how close Topper was to eating pavement, but Rafe wasn’t the one he feared right now.

You were going to kill him.

He could already picture the look on your face when you found out—those cold, furious eyes, the way your voice would drop, he was officially dead meat. He gulped, his mouth dry as his brain scrambled for something—anything—that wouldn’t get him killed or disowned.

“You better explain what the fuck you mean by ‘happened,’” Rafe growled, his grip tightening, giving Topper’s collar a shake, just enough to make his point clear.

Topper was done, leaving nothing but pure panic and the faint, distant sound of his voice saying things he definitely shouldn’t. 

“I called the number!” Topper yelped. “I didn’t even mean to, it was—dude, she’s gonna kill me, and I mean that literally. She will.”

“Not if I kill you first,” Rafe shoved him back, his grip finally loosening, his face unreadable now, which was somehow worse than when he’d looked ready to punch him. “You’re telling me you think she’s pregnant? And you didn’t remember to tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t!” Topper said quickly, panic bubbling over. “It’s not like she’s gonna tell me this kind of stuff.”

“Did she say anything to you? Anything about seeing a doctor or being sick?”

Topper shook his head so fast it made him dizzy. “I asked if she was okay, but she just brushed it off and changed the subject.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, both of them staring each other down.

“No, no way. She’s probably… I don’t fucking know, changing her pill or something.”

Topper raised an eyebrow. “Changing her pill?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said quickly, “Or—what else do they do there? Those check-up things. Maybe she’s getting one of those.”

“Uh-huh,” Topper replied, not convinced but also not dumb enough to call him out on it outright. “Sure. Just a… routine check-up?”

“Exactly,” Rafe agreed a little too loud, his tone almost defensive as he started circling again, his hands gesturing wildly. “They don’t just deal with… y'know. They do all kinds of shit. Tests, prescriptions, all that stuff. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Topper scratched the back of his neck, his expression caught between agreement and unease. “I mean, yeah, they do other stuff… but don’t you think—”

“I don’t think anything, there’s nothing to think about. She’s fine. She’s—she’s fine.” He stopped pacing, standing rigid with his hands on his hips, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“Okay,” Topper started, his tone cautious. “I get that you don’t want to jump to conclusions, but—”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions!” Rafe barked, spinning around “You’re the one making it into something it’s not! She’s not—she wouldn’t—she hasn’t told me anything,” He muttered finally, “And if she’s hiding this… from me…”

He’d never seen Rafe like this—angry, yeah, but there was something else there, either way, it wasn’t good. His glare burned into him, but for the first time, there was hesitation behind it. He wasn’t just mad—he was scared. Topper couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse. 

“Holy shit,” Rafe muttered, gripping the side of his truck for balance. His vision going fuzzy as his heart raced like he’d just sprinted a mile. “Holy shit, what if—what if she is?”

“Dude, breathe,” Topper said, stepping closer cautiously like Rafe was a live grenade. “You don’t even—”

“Even if—if—she was, how the hell would that even—” He cut himself off, his face twisting like he couldn’t decide whether to finish the thought or abandon it entirely.

Topper didn’t need him to finish, he understood exactly what Rafe was thinking. The timeline, the breakup, the way everything had gone down between you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he let go of the truck and paced a few steps, his hands on his hips, muttering under his breath. “No. No way. It’s not—she’d tell me, right? She’d fucking tell me.”

Images started flashing through his mind in rapid succession, each one more ridiculous and unhinged than the last. You, standing in some clinic, staring at a test with a blank expression. You, trying to figure out how to tell Rafe.

You, holding a baby—Rafe’s baby—in your arms.

“This doesn’t make any sense. We were careful. She’s just stressed, girls go through shit. Hormones or whatever. Right?”

“You’re asking me? I barely passed bio. I’m not exactly a walking textbook on—” He stopped himself, seeing the look on Rafe’s face. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, okay? But if this is what I think it is, you gotta handle it right. Don’t screw it up more than it already is.”

“And if I don’t handle it right?”

Topper forced a shaky grin, even as his stomach twisted in knots.

“Then I guess I’ll see you in hell, man. Because she’s gonna kill us both.”

Rafe’s hands went to his hips, his thumb brushing the edge of his pocket as he stared past Topper, he was trying to work out an equation that wasn’t adding up.

“She hasn’t said a word to me,” Rafe muttered, “Not at the hospital, not since. And you think…” He trailed off, dragging a hand over his face. 

Topper shifted on his feet, resisting the urge to bolt to the other side of the world.

“I guess, but I swear, it wasn’t on purpose.”

Rafe shot him a look, his brows knitting together, and Topper felt like he was under a microscope. “You called a random number. How does that ‘just happen’?”

He huffed, throwing his hands up. “I was grabbing some water, and her mail fell, and there was this number—I didn’t think! I just… acted.” He groaned, his head falling back as he stared at the sky. “I didn’t mean to put two and two together, but what was I supposed to do? You’re the one who made me go digging in the first place!”

“You really think that’s what’s going on?” Rafe asked finally, his voice quieter.

“You said she’s acting weird, and then there was that number, and…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Do you even understand what this means? If she’s—if there’s a—” He broke off, “I’d have to—Jesus Christ, what would I even do? I’m not—God.”

His hands gripped the edge of the truck bed so hard his knuckles turned white, the veins in his arms standing out as he glared at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“If she didn’t tell me—” His voice was low, quiet in a way that made Topper wince because he knew what came next.

“Maybe just... ask her?”

 ��Ask her?” he repeated, his voice disbelieving.

“Yeah, you know,” Topper said, gesturing vaguely. “Talk to her? Maybe find out what’s going on instead of losing your shit over worst-case scenarios?”

Rafe shook his head, “No. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. She’s... she’s dealing with her own stuff. It’s not my place to push.”

 “Since when do you not push?”

“Since now,” Rafe snapped, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” Rafe interrupted, his voice rising now, the tight restraint unraveling with every word. “If she’s—if she’s going through this, if she’s pregnant, and she didn’t tell me?” He let out a bitter chuckle, “What the fuck does that say? About me.”

Topper opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. This felt like a minefield, and if anyone was good at stepping on the wrong spot, it was him.

Rafe pushed off the truck, he couldn’t physically stay still. His eyes were burning as he raked a hand through his buzzed hair.

“I was—fuck. She thinks what? That I wouldn’t show up for this. She didn’t tell me because she doesn’t think I deserve to know.”

“That’s not true,” Topper said quickly, stepping closer, but Rafe’s empty laugh stopped him.

“Isn’t it?” Rafe’s voice was hollow now, all the fire drained out of him, turning his head slightly, just enough for Topper to see his throat working as he swallowed hard. “What the hell have I ever done to make her think I’d be there? That I’d—” He broke off. “Shit. I wouldn’t blame her. I can't even fucking blame her.”

“You still care about her, right?” Topper pressed, knowing he didn’t have to ask to know the answer.

Rafe’s head snapped up, “She’s the only thing I’ve ever cared about.”

He nodded slowly, “Then prove it.”

The envelope sat exactly where you’d left it, the faintest corner of folded. You froze for a second, your pulse quickening.

No. No way.

It was fine. Fine.

The number wasn’t even labeled—just digits scrawled hastily, you hadn’t touched it in days. Still, you couldn’t stop the tiny seed of panic attaching itself to your chest. There was absolutely no way Topper could’ve seen it, let alone put two and two together.

You exhaled slowly, placing it back on the counter.

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t have seen it.

Then why had he acted so… off? The pale face, the sudden excuse, the jittery energy—it was all so unlike him.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away, a million things could’ve set him off. 

Maybe Ruthie had texted him something awful, or maybe he’d remembered he had to pick up his dry cleaning before the shop closed. Knowing Topper, it was probably something stupid and unrelated to you entirely.

Still, the nagging lingered as you cleaned up the counter and threw away the napkins. You glanced at the envelope one last time, then slid it into a drawer and shut it firmly. Whatever was going on with your cousin, it couldn’t have anything to do with that. It was impossible. And yet…

You sighed, rubbing your temples. 

“Pregnancy brain,” you muttered to yourself. “Making me paranoid over nothing.”

Of course that didn’t stop your heart from jumping every time the drawer creaked, or when you saw anything even remotely similar to that envelope’s color lying around the house for the entire night. Not that he’d ask, of course—Topper wasn’t the confrontational type, especially not with you. But he noticed things. And when he noticed, he worried.

The next morning you sank onto the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. Topper was close, but he wasn’t like Sarah. She had been able to look you in the eye and say, You know I’m here, right? and mean it without any strings attached. Topper, though…

Your fingers itched toward your phone, even though it was stupid to call her so early over this. Still, you needed someone to remind you that you weren’t losing it, that Topper’s weirdness had nothing to do with anything serious.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found Sarah’s number, pressing the call button. She picked up on the second ring, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You could picture her, sitting in her car or probably stretched out somewhere in Poguelandia with her feet propped up on a table, looking concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You trailed off, fiddling with the edge of a pillow. 

“Topper’s been acting strange. And I think I’m just overthinking it, but it’s making me crazy.”

She made a sound between a hum and a laugh. “So the Topper panic spiral. That’s what we’re dealing with?”

“Basically,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light. “But this time… He was here last night, and I thought he saw this random piece of paper I had with, you know. A number on it.” You took a shaky breath, embarrassed for how paranoid you sounded. “But he couldn’t have, right? I mean, it was buried under five other things.”

“Okay,” Sarah said slowly, clearly choosing her words. “First, let’s just say that if he did see anything, which he probably didn’t, he wouldn’t assume the worst. He’s your cousin; he knows you don’t tell him everything, and he respects that. Right?”

“Yeah… I guess.” You chewed your lip, feeling a little stupid for even calling her.  “But what if he does put it together, Sarah? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“He won’t,” she reassured, like she could see right through your anxiety. “And you don’t need to feel bad for wanting to keep this private. You’re allowed to handle it however you need to. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

You exhaled, the knot in your chest loosening a little. She always knew how to talk you down, "Okay,” you murmured, and a shaky laugh slipped out. “Maybe I'm being paranoid.”

“Pregnancy brain,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but smile.

You hung up feeling marginally better.

Sarah had a way of calming you down, but the uneasiness stayed with you, the way it always did when you couldn’t fully explain something.

But the relief was fleeting, by lunchtime, the nagging voice in your head was back. Topper wasn’t malicious, but he did have a habit of talking without thinking, and the last thing you needed was for this to get out before you were ready. Not only was this a huge scandal, but it was your business.

You busied yourself with small tasks—folding laundry, wiping down the counters, pretending that everything was fine. It wasn’t until almost noon that your phone rang. The hospital’s number flashed on the screen, and your stomach dropped.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Miss Thornton?” the voice on the other end asked politely, too polite for comfort.

“This is she."

“This is Linda from the hospital. I’m calling about your recent bloodwork. We had a bit of an issue with our system, and unfortunately, there was a delay in getting back to you. We also lost some patient information temporarily—”

“Wait, what?” you interrupted, not liking where this was going, “What do you mean you lost information?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” Linda said quickly, as if that would make you feel better. “We managed to recover most of it, but in the meantime, we had to rely on emergency contact information to reach out. Dr. Harris called yours last night.”

Your breath caught. “Called... my emergency contact?”

“Yes.”

“Sarah Cameron? She didn’t tell me someone called.”

“She’s not listed as your emergency contact in our system, Rafe Cameron is. It might be an older record?”

Fuck.

Your heart was in your throat. “What... what did he tell him?”

“He only left a generic message asking for you to follow up about your bloodwork. Nothing specific.”

“Nothing specific,” you repeated, more to yourself than to her. Relief and panic warred within you. If Rafe knew, he’d already be there, the night before, demanding answers. Right?

“We need you to come back in. It’s possible you may have an infection, and we need to run a few more tests.”

You didn’t even hear the rest of her explanation.

Your fingers felt numb as you mumbled something that vaguely resembled agreement and hung up.

Infection, that was what she’d said. That was all it was. Not… not anything else. If it were anything else, they wouldn’t have just called—they’d have told Rafe.

“Stop,” you muttered aloud, shaking your head. “Stop spiraling.”

But your brain wouldn’t listen.

“Generic message,” Linda had said, but did it sound generic? What did he think when he got it? Had he laughed it off, or was he running his stupid pristine bedroom, piecing together clues you hadn’t even realized you’d left?

You didn’t want to text Sarah again.

You could imagine her smirking, “I told you, he’s not going to magically grow psychic overnight.” Yeah, sure, but this was Rafe.

He didn’t need magic. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on Sarah’s voice in your head. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Except it didn’t feel like that. You hadn’t thought about Rafe as your emergency contact in months, hadn’t needed to. 

You sank into the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered, but your voice didn’t make it feel any less real. You weren’t even sure what you were spiraling over anymore. The envelope? The hospital? The baby?

“Okay,” you said out loud. “Okay, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

The sound of your voice didn’t even convince you. Your brain wouldn’t stop jumping from one thing to the next, spinning every scenario you didn’t want to think about. 

What if he did know? If that was enough to set him off, to make him call someone, pull some strings...Shit, what if he did show up, and you had to explain why you were dodging everyone and keeping things from him and—stop. 

Stop. 

You were doing it again. The spiraling. The pregnancy brain Sarah teased you about like it was some sort of cute quirk, but wasn’t cute.

You sat up straight, squeezing the couch pillow so hard you thought it might burst. Breathe. Just breathe, you’d made it this far without imploding.

You glanced toward the drawer again, the one with the envelope. You should’ve burned it, shredded it first. No, you had to keep it—just in case. But just in case of what? Just in case you needed more reasons to feel like a lunatic.

Oh my god. What if Topper saw the stupid number, and then Rafe got the hospital call, and then—bam—suddenly, they had the whole damn thing figured out?

You could feel it already—the panic. You liked to think they were both too stupid for their own good, but they were also observant. Rafe, that bastard always knew how to put things together faster than anyone. 

What if—what if it’s that simple for them? What if they both saw it, and then they were just sitting there, having some stupid-ass conversation, connecting dots you didn’t even realize were dots?

No. Stop. Stop thinking like that.

You were getting carried away, jumping to conclusions like some manic soap opera character. You weren’t that girl. Not really. But the thought of them talking—Topper with his concern and Rafe with his overbearing intensity.

Your fingers tapped a frantic rhythm against the pillow. The idea of him figuring it out? Oh, that made your skin crawl. Not because he’d be cruel—no, that wasn’t his style. He’d just be so… himself.

Overwhelming, determined to “fix” things for you, even when you didn’t ask for it. 

You groaned, dropping the pillow and standing abruptly, like the movement might kill the growing dread. No, you told yourself firmly.

You weren’t spiraling over things that hadn’t even happened yet.

But the voice in your head, the one that always sounded a little too much like Rafe, had other plans: What if it’s already too late?

You paced the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest. This was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Nothing had happened, nothing was going to happen. The number wasn’t even that suspicious, it could’ve been anything.

You groaned again, flopping onto the couch like the dramatic mess you were currently embodying. Rafe had probably gotten the hospital call, rolled his eyes without a second thought, too busy with his new precious life.

Your stomach churned, and you pressed your hands against it instinctively. It wasn’t showing yet—thank god—but you couldn’t help the way your mind spiraled back to it, to all the ways this could go wrong.

You grabbed your car keys without thinking, maybe it would clear your head. A drive—that’s what you needed. Get out of the house, and put some distance between you and the stupid envelope, the phone calls, all of it. You turned the knob, yanked the door open—

—and froze.

Rafe’s hand was raised mid-air, clearly about to knock. You didn’t even try to hide the way your breath hitched. 

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Standing there on the porch like he hadn’t just derailed your entire plan. As if it was still perfectly normal for him to show up unannounced, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other gripping his phone, his head tilted in a maddeningly familiar way.

His hand hovered uncertainly on the doorframe as you stepped back, your arms folding protectively over your chest. He didn’t push past you, didn’t move his weight forward—just stood there.

He glanced down at the spare key still in his hand, turning it over like he was considering whether he even had the right to use it. “They called me last night.”

Okay, he was just here because of the hospital, a coincidence, that’s all it was.

“And? You could’ve ignored it.”

His hand flexed at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I thought something might be wrong.”

“It’s not.” Your voice was clipped, cold. “They called the wrong number. End of story.”

He didn’t rise to the bait.

“I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “I thought you were sick.”

“Like I said, it was a mix-up.”

His jaw ticked. That tiny muscle in his cheek twitched, the one that always flared when he was suspicious.

“Funny, they didn’t sound mixed up when they said your name,” he drawled, his tone probing. “Wanna try again?”

“Mind your fucking business,” Your voice was defensive, and you hated the crackle of guilt in your chest when he flinched. “I don’t need you to pretend to care. Why are you even here?” you snapped, taking a step back. The space between you felt vulnerable. “Don’t you have someone else to worry about?"

You felt cornered with every second he stood there.

“We need to talk.”

Maybe if you acted calm, like nothing was wrong, he’d stop looking at you like that. Vulnerability wasn’t something you were good at, he’d already taken too much. He always took too much.

“I don’t owe you shit. Not explanations, not answers, nothing. Leave.”

He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

Rafe didn’t know how to let shit go, not when it came to you, he didn’t back away.

“You’re right,” he said, surprising you. “You don’t, but I’m not leaving until we talk.”

The way he said, it wasn’t even a threat. It was worse than that. It was calm, resolute, like he’d already decided, and nothing you said or did could change it. 

That scared you more than anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you hissed, “Whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to the edge of the couch where your phone still sat, “You sure about that?”

“God, you’re always like this. Always overstepping, always assuming—”

“I know."

All the noise in your head—your spiraling thoughts, your excuses, your endless denials—went silent, except for the way your heart thudded in your chest, so fast, it hurt. He hadn’t raised his voice, but those two words hit you like a kick to your chest.

No, he couldn’t—he didn’t, he was bluffing, he had to be. Air caught in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might choke on it. He didn’t move, didn’t repeat himself. He couldn’t know.

Your tongue went dry. 

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. You shook your head again, more violently this time, stepping back, “You don’t know shit.”

“I think I do.” His voice was quiet, and that made it worse, it wasn’t cold or angry; it wasn’t even accusing. He didn’t sound like he wanted to be right, he just sounded tired.

You prayed to come up with something—anything—to deflect, to deny, to keep the truth buried where it belonged. 

“You’re delusional,” you took another step back, putting more space between you and the man who had always known you too well.

He just shook his head, “You don’t have to lie to me, you’re scared, you’re not even trying to hide it.”

It was the way he stared with those stupid blue eyes, he was peeling back your layers. He always did that, made you feel like he could see something in you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

“Oh, fuck off.” You threw your hands up. “You don’t know shit about what I’m feeling. You’ve got no right to—I’m not lying.”

It still hurt how much you missed him, hurt to even look at him.

“Don’t pull this cryptic bullshit with me, if you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

The thing you’d been running from, denying, hiding, you simply stared at him, trying to decide if there was any way to lie your way out of this.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, desperate. “T-That’s insane. You’ve lost your mind.”

Rafe wasn’t gloating or triumphant—he just looked… resigned, he’d pieced it together before he showed up.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me, not about this.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him, to do anything that would make him stop looking at you like he cared. Like he knew you. Because if you stopped long enough to think about it, you knew it was over.

He’d already seen it.

“I mean it, Rafe.” Your hand tightened on the door, nails digging into the wood. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

God, this was so fucked. You wanted him gone, but wanted him here, needed him to leave you alone, but at the same time, you hated that he could just leave.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

You thought about what he’d do if he knew—really knew. Not just the vague sense he had now, but the details. Would he try to stop you? 

Your lip quivered, and you hated yourself for it. “You’re wrong.”

You stared at him, at the way his shoulders hunched slightly, his usual confidence worn down. You hated him for being calm for once in his fucking life, for being here, for not letting this slide when it was none of his fucking business.

“Am I?”

Your hands clenched tighter, nails biting into your palms. “Why? Why do you even care? It’s not like you—”

“Because it’s mine.”

Your breath hitched again, and this time, you couldn’t hide it. You wanted to deny it, to throw something—hell, anything—back at him to make him shut the fuck up. But your throat felt like it had shut off entirely, and your mind had gone blank.

“I—” you stammered, shaking your head violently, “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re—”

“Hey, hey, just—just stop,” he said, his voice careful, as if he was trying not to spook you. “I’m not—Jesus, I’m not here to fight with you, okay? I’m not here to make this harder.”

Your chest heaved, a bitter laugh escaping before you could stop it. He was too late—late to care, late to help, late to fix anything. Five days, that’s all you had to get through.

Five days until you didn’t have to think about it anymore. 

This is the right choice, you told yourself for the hundredth time. You couldn’t bring a baby into this mess.

“You’re doing a hell of a job at that.”

“I just want to help. If you let me—”

“No,” you interrupted, grabbing the edge of the door. “I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing—?” Rafe’s brow furrowed, his confusion almost comical He started to step forward, but you stopped him with a resentful glare that made him stop. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you can take your fake concern and shove it up your ass.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s not fake—” His face twisted in confusion, mouth opening like he was about to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance, slamming the door in his face, so hard the frame rattled.

“Of course. Of course, it’s mine,” you muttered to yourself, mocking his stupid, self-righteous tone.

You leaned back against the door, sliding to the floor, arms crossed over your knees as your brain whirred like it was trying to kill you.

It wasn’t like you had a choice.

Technically, you did, but what were you supposed to do? Keep it and become a tragic sob story? The words almost felt like you’d ripped them out of someone else’s mouth, right or wrong didn’t even matter anymore. There wasn’t space in your life for this—for him, for a baby, for any of it.

A muffled knock sounded from the front door—tentative, like he was giving you a moment.

“Go away,” you yelled, your voice hoarse.

“Open the door.”

Your thoughts taunted you with memories and possibilities you didn’t want to entertain. The way Rafe had looked at you—like he knew—it was unbearable.

How had he put it together? Maybe you'd slip up in tiny ways, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. You hated yourself for being so careless, despised him even more for being so fucking relentless.

You wiped your cheeks roughly, not realizing you’d started crying until your sleeve came back damp.

“Please, just open the door. We can talk—just talk, okay?

“No,” you muttered to the empty room. “No, I’m not doing this.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning your head back against the door and pressing your hands over your ears to block him out. 

“Don’t shut me out like this,” he begged. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t stand it when you do this. Just open the door. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

He had a key. If he wanted to, he could let himself in at any moment, but he didn’t, that wasn’t the Rafe you were used to.

Before, he'd have barged right in, shouted until your ears bled, and demanded answers. He would’ve tried to fix it or destroy it, maybe both. 

You hated that he still acted like he cared, that he was trying to be so fucking reasonable now, when just a few months ago, he would’ve lost it, broken through any barrier to get what he wanted.

This was worse, this Rafe was wearing you down.

Another hushed plea made it through the door, but all you could think was how thin the wood felt, how it barely drowned the sound of his voice. A new door might be better, something heavier, more solid, that could drown out everything—the desperation, the crack in his voice.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you bit hard on the inside of your cheek to keep them from falling. 

“I know you’re scared,” he continued, “And I know you think I’ll screw this up—God knows I probably will. But please don’t keep me in the dark. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You pictured flipping through hardware store catalogs, weighing your options: oak? steel? soundproofing foam?

“Please,” Rafe whispered, and the rawness in his voice scraped against you like nails on a chalkboard. You tilted your head back against the door, willing yourself not to cry again. 

Steel doors don’t warp as easily as wood.

You swallowed hard, your body aching as you fought the sob threatening to escape. He didn’t deserve this—didn’t deserve to sound so wrecked over you. He'd done this to himself.

Your fingers twitched against the door handle, the temptation to open it curling around you, but instead, you thought about bolts.

Deadbolts, a second lock could work, something he couldn’t get through even if he had the key.

His voice wavered again, you thought he might start crying, too, yet all you did was glance at the base of the door. A better seal would muffle the noise more. Maybe weatherstripping? That could help.

You pressed your hands tighter over your ears, as though it would help. It didn’t. Nothing would—not until you replaced the lock, the door, the memory of him standing there and breaking himself open for you.

God, you really needed a new door—and a new heart.

One that didn’t twist at the sound of his voice, that didn’t flinch every time he called your name like it was a prayer. A heart that didn’t feel for him, you told yourself, over and over, like a mantra. If you could just stop the way your chest tightened at his pleas, stop the ache in your ribs when he said he couldn’t let this go.

You wanted steel walls, that could keep everything out—his voice, his touch, the memories of all the good parts of him that had kept you hanging on for so long. Because of this heart? It was useless, too soft, too easily swayed, still willing to believe him, even when you knew better.

“Please, just talk to me,” Rafe begged. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this calmness came from Sofia.

Perhaps she was the reason he’d changed, maybe she had somehow made him different, had softened the sharp edges of the guy you used to know. She was calm, collected—nothing like you. It hurt like a bitch, the thought that someone else could make him this patient. You wondered if she’d taught him how to handle his emotions, how to be this way—he’d learned some secret he never bothered to share with you.

You couldn't let yourself go there, couldn't let the bitterness of that thought settle in your mind for too long.

“Talk to me.”

No. Not this time.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[dissapointu]

how about the arcane characters seeing their crush fight someone for the first time (and winning)? and like, they just didn't know how strong reader truly is?

OH SNAP. YOU’RE OUT HERE THROWING HANDS AND TAKING NAMES?? The Arcane crew would LOSE IT seeing you handle business for the first time—especially since they had no idea you were this strong. They’d be standing there like, “Wait… when did you become a total badass??”

Jinx

Jinx would be cheering you on like a maniac.

• The moment she sees you throwing punches, she’s SCREAMING. “GET ‘EM! GET ‘EM! THAT’S MY CRUSH!”

• She’s doing the chaotic Jinx laugh the whole time, completely hyped up by your energy.

• When you win, she’s sprinting up to you, grabbing your face, and grinning like, “That was AMAZING! You’re, like, a total beast! Why didn’t you TELL me??”

• Lowkey? She wants to see it again. “We should start a fight club or something. You’d crush it!”

Vi

Vi is SHOOK but also a little turned on, let’s be real.

• She’s watching you handle the fight, and her jaw just DROPS. “Damn, I didn’t know you had it in you…”

• She’s impressed as hell, crossing her arms and nodding as you take down your opponent like a pro.

• When you win, she saunters up to you all casual but can’t hide the smirk. “Not bad. You’ve been holding out on me, huh?”

• You’d catch her sneaking little proud glances at you for the rest of the day. “That’s my kinda person.”

Sevika

Sevika’s eyebrows are practically in her HAIRLINE watching you fight.

• She didn’t think you had it in you, so she’s just standing there, arms crossed, staring like, “Well, damn. Look at you go.”

• When you win, she’s all smug, leaning back and grinning. “Didn’t know you were such a badass. Guess I’ll have to start watching my back, huh?”

• She wouldn’t admit it, but seeing you fight earns you a TON of respect in her book. She’s definitely bringing it up later. “You know, not many people can throw a punch like that. I’m impressed.”

Silco

Silco is stunned but trying to act like he’s not.

• He’s watching the fight with a raised eyebrow, sipping his drink like, “Interesting.” But internally? He’s like, “Where have they been hiding this?”

• When you win, he calmly walks up to you, gives you an approving nod, and says something cryptic like, “You’re full of surprises. I admire that.”

• He’s definitely making mental notes about how you might be a bigger asset than he realized. But also? He’s secretly impressed by how you can handle yourself.

Vander

Vander is proud AND worried all at once.

• He’s watching you fight, hands on his hips, muttering stuff like, “Didn’t think they had that in ‘em… but damn, they’re good.”

• When you win, he walks up to you with the classic dad voice: “You alright? Didn’t know you could handle yourself like that. You really showed ‘em, though.”

• He’s proud as hell but makes you promise not to take unnecessary risks. “I know you’re strong, but don’t go looking for trouble, yeah?”

Ekko

Ekko is blown away and immediately HYPED.

• He’s watching you fight like, “Ohhh snap! Look at them GO!” He’s bouncing on his heels, ready to jump in if you need backup, but realizing… you don’t.

• When you win, he’s practically tackling you in excitement. “That was AMAZING! Since when were you such a badass??”

• He’s 100% bragging about you to the Firelights later. “My crush? Absolute legend. You should’ve seen them.”

Jayce

Jayce is equal parts surprised and impressed.

• He’s standing there with wide eyes, muttering, “Wait, when did they learn how to do THAT?”

• When you win, he’s immediately running over, grinning like a golden retriever. “That was insane! You’re incredible—how come you never told me you could fight like that?”

• He’s hyping you up for DAYS afterward. “No, seriously, did you see how they took that guy down? Absolute powerhouse.”

Viktor

Viktor is completely blindsided.

• He’s watching the fight like, “Wait… what is happening right now?” He’s genuinely shocked because he didn’t think you were the type to throw hands.

• When you win, he’s just staring at you in awe. “You… you didn’t even break a sweat. That was incredible.”

• He’d definitely be curious about how you learned to fight and want to hear all the details. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is lowkey AMAZED but trying to stay professional about it.

• She’s watching you fight, hands clasped behind her back, muttering under her breath like, “Impressive… very impressive.”

• When you win, she gives you a warm smile and says something like, “I always knew you were capable, but I didn’t realize you were THIS capable. Well done.”

• She’s super proud of you but probably a little worried you’ll get hurt next time. “Just… be careful, alright?”

Mel Medarda

Mel is intrigued and very, VERY impressed.

• She’s watching the fight with a small smile, sipping her wine like, “How fascinating.”

• When you win, she gracefully approaches you and says something smooth like, “You’ve been holding out on me. That was quite the performance.”

• She’s 100% filing this information away for later, already thinking about how your strength could come in handy.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa is IMPRESSED beyond belief.

• She’s watching you fight with a smirk, nodding to herself like, “They’ve got potential.”

• When you win, she strides up to you and claps a hand on your shoulder. “You fight with skill—and heart. I respect that.”

• She’d probably want to spar with you later just to test your limits. “Let’s see what else you’re capable of.”

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is both shocked and fascinated.

• He’s watching the fight with wide eyes, clutching his little staff like, “Oh dear, oh dear… they’re actually quite formidable!”

• When you win, he’s rushing over to check on you. “My word! That was… extraordinary. Are you alright?”

• He’d definitely want to know more about your skills. “Your technique is quite remarkable. Have you considered joining a combat academy?”

Salo

Salo is quietly impressed but not super showy about it.

• He’s watching you fight with a raised eyebrow, muttering under his breath like, “Huh. Didn’t see that coming.”

• When you win, he gives you a subtle nod and says something lowkey like, “Not bad. You’re tougher than you look.”

• He’s definitely rethinking everything he thought he knew about you.

Scar

Scar is losing his mind in the BEST way.

• He’s hyping you up the whole time, yelling stuff like, “GET ‘EM! That’s my crush right there!”

• When you win, he’s immediately running over, laughing and clapping you on the back. “That was EPIC! You’re my hero!”

• He’s bragging about you to literally everyone. “Yeah, my crush just took someone down like a pro. No big deal.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is floored but super proud.

• She’s watching you fight with wide eyes, quietly whispering, “Wow… they’re amazing.”

• When you win, she’s blushing and smiling as she walks over to you. “That was incredible. Are you always this strong?”

• She’d definitely admire you even more after seeing you hold your own like that.

Lest

Lest is completely captivated.

• She’s watching you fight with a mix of awe and concern, muttering to herself like, “They’re… really strong. I had no idea.”

• When you win, she’s rushing over to make sure you’re okay, brushing some imaginary dust off your shoulder. “That was amazing, but are you hurt? You’re incredible.”

• She’d probably be in awe of you for DAYS afterward. *“I can’t believe you did that. You’re amazing”

[martiniblues]

JUNO , spencer reid

pairing boyfriend!spencer x fem!reader

synopsis while babysitting henry for jj, spencer’s seeming disinterest with children starts to shift. this makes your mind wonder into unfamiliar territory you and spencer hadn’t spoken of yet: kids.

genre talks of pregnancy and children (duh), very suggestive towards the end but no smut, this is very self indulgent since i can’t get this song or spencer off my mind so here you go lol.

wc 2k?? (i got a little carried away)

“sorry for this being so last minute!" jj scrambled, passing henry over to you along with his diaper bag. the blonde ran a hand through her short hair, adjusting from where the two-year-old played with it upon their arrival. 

“it’s all good, seriously. you know how much i love babysitting this cute thing.” you tickled henry’s side, making him squirm. 

jj’s eyes averted to the figure behind you, pursing her lips. “you sure he’s okay with this?” you turned your head, noticing spencer trying to look at the two of you without being noticed. 

it’s not that spencer didn’t like kids; it’s just hard to know how to talk to them when you were a child genius. 

you turned back to jj, attempting to ease her worry. “he’ll come around to it.” you shrugged, knowing that spencer would either sit and observe or fully engage. no in between.

after bidding your goodbyes, you walked over to spencer, taking a seat beside him on the couch. “so what should we do, little man?” you perched henry in your lap, resting your feet on the coffee table so he could sit against your perched thighs. 

spencer looked at you as if he were the “little man” in question. henry just babbled, throwing his arms around as you cooed. “what do we do with him?” spencer asked, leaning closer into your shoulder to inspect the baby in your lap. 

you laughed at his seriousness, turning to look at your boyfriend. “have you never been around a baby in your life or something?” you teased, lifting henry so he was closer to you both.

“did you know that babies are born with about seventy reflexes? that’s why when you place a baby on a surface to stand, they automatically start doing a stepping motion.” he spoke, watching henry kick his legs as you stood him on your lap. you looked over at him quizzically. “for someone who’s so awkward around babies, you sure do know a lot about them.” 

spencer flushed slightly, “i just haven’t had the chance to be around any until now.” he nudges your shoulder before crossing his arms. 

“well, here’s your chance.” you held henry out to spencer, which made him squirm and mumble yet again. “hold him while i go bring his bag in here.” 

he hesitated, looking between you and the baby as if this were a test. yet, despite the nervousness, he reached out, mimicking your position earlier. when you were content with how henry laid on spencer’s legs, you walked out of the room.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposely take your time collecting his things, wanting spencer to have some alone time with henry. finally satisfied with your departure, you peaked your head into the room, nearly melting at the sight. 

the once stiff and nervous spencer you had left with henry was now replaced with a content, smiling one. his voice went up a few pitches as he responded to henry’s nonsense. “oh wow, really?” his lips were pulled into a smile as he played with him, letting henry’s small hand encase his slender fingers. 

you couldn’t help but let your head wander; how could you not? sure you thought about a future with spencer. a future where you were married and maybe with kids, but you had never brought it up being too nervous to scare spencer off.

but now watching him light up with henry in his lap, you wanted nothing more than for your daydreams to become reality. 

“someone wants you back in here, i think.” you snapped out of your daze, focusing on the two sets of eyes staring at you. both holding the same smiles and wide eyes. 

god, you swore you felt your ovaries jump.

“i see that you two are getting along now.” you placed henry’s diaper bag on the table, sitting yourself on the ground before laying out his blanket and a few toys. spencer joined you, placing henry on his stomach, then laid beside you, mirroring the baby’s position. 

“who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” you laughed, in awe of how much spencer had adjusted to the small being in just a matter of minutes.

he looked up at you as he shook a little plushie in front of henry’s face. “sorry to disappoint, but this is still your boyfriend,” spencer quipped before you pushed his head jokingly, messing up his hair in the process. 

the sound of high-pitched squeals took both of your attentions away from one another. there henry lay, clapping his hands in favor of you and spencer’s playful fighting. 

“yeah, you like when i show him who’s boss, huh?” you caressed the soft skin of henry’s cheek, making him giggle. spencer sighed, “come on, man, i thought we were really becoming friends” he exasperated, laying his head in his hands dramatically.

this only brought more squeals from the baby, making your cheeks almost grow sore from how hard you were smiling. 

“awe spence, it’s okay.” you egged on your act by petting his hair back into place. this caused your boyfriend to lift his head; a big pout on his lips made yours perk up. 

with your attention being taken away from henry by spencer’s rare expression, you hadn’t noticed the stuffed animal caught between the baby’s hands. before you could do anything, the small bear was chucked into spencer’s face, causing an uproar of noises from henry.

“i’m starting to question this whole babysitting thing.” spencer winced, looking at you as you laughed along with henry. 

 

despite the teasing from earlier, spencer continued to be enamored with henry. him even insisting he help feed and change him when time came.

the whole ordeal feeling so domestic, apart of you wished jj could have spent a couple more days for her and will in favor of you seeing spencer like this for longer.

“thank you, again for taking care of him.” jj propped her hip against the counter as she fumbled for her phone out of her purse.

“of course, it really was no problem.” you turned at the sound of spencer’s soft voice, thanking henry for “helping” him clean.

“honestly, i think someone enjoyed this a bit more than we thought.” you gestured at spencer as he settled henry on his hip, the baby grasping onto his button-up shirt. 

your whole body ran hot at sight. spencer looked really good as a pretend dad. 

“no kidding, the team is going to flip when i show them the pictures you took of them.” she glanced at her phone, noting the off-guard photos you stole of spencer and henry. 

one was of him feeding him as he walked around the living room, another of him explaining some of the books organized on his shelves in a very formal fashion despite henry’s lack of knowledge, and finally one of them eye-to-eye playing on the floor with various toys. 

your heart swelled looking back at them, the questions you had been so careful not to ask begging to be verbalized. 

before you could sink any further, spencer came over, handing jj henry and his bag almost reluctantly. noticing the time, jj was quick to leave in order to keep the baby’s sleeping schedule on track but thanked you guys repeatedly before finally closing the door. 

clicking the lock shut, you mentally prepared yourself for the words about to come out of your mouth. 

“you had more fun than you bargained for, didn’t you?” you met spencer on the couch, him reaching out to pull your legs over his, making your heart leap. 

“i did, actually.” spencer began smoothing his hands up and down your calf before continuing. “honestly when you mentioned henry coming over, i was a little- i don’t know scared? i just didn’t want to disappoint him or you.” he bit his lip like he was stopping himself from letting the whole truth out. 

“oh spence, you were perfect. honestly, i’m very proud of you.” you reached out, caressing the side of his face, causing him to look at you. 

he noticed your wondering eyes, waiting for you to continue. “actually i um…” you shifted pulling your legs under yourself so you could sit up. 

breathing in deeply, you continued, “today kind of got me thinking about us and our future.” spencer was looking at you with such admiration that you had fixed your gaze on your hands.

“i know we haven’t really brought it up before, but seeing you and henry today had me-“ 

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were pressed against yours, resulting in a shocked gasp from you. he kissed you, mumbling words each time his lips parted to take yours in again. 

“i want that, i really do.” he breathed, finally separating from you for just a moment. 

“you want what, spence?” you were in shock, to be honest, knowing what he meant but wanting to hear him say it word for word. 

without another word, he positioned you in his lap, legs straddling his own. “i want a family with you. i want a sliver of what we had today to become ours one day.” his eyes didn’t break from yours, his pupils blown wide and sparkly.

for the thousandth time that day, you had to bite back a smile. “you mean that?” you questioned, one hand coming to comb through his hair and the other resting on his neck. 

he kissed your cheek, forehead, nose, and finally your lips before he spoke. “every single one. i mean, one of you is cute.” he cupped your cheek as he spoke. “but two though? that’s something.” he finished, smirking at you. 

you couldn’t contain your happiness, crashing his lips to yours again feverishly. even though you knew the both of you were in no place to have a kid now, there was no harm in playing with the fantasy for now. 

even if the real thing wouldn’t come to be for a good few years.

spencer pulled you flush against him, one his hands leaving your hips to trail up your spine and settle onto the back of your neck. a moan slipped past your lips as goosebumps erupted on your skin. 

you pulled on his shirt, hinting at where this was going as if it weren’t obvious to the man beneath you. he looked up at you, kissing you once more before dragging you to your shared bed. 

your blouse and shorts were off before your back hit the sheets, spencer still standing ahead of you unbuttoning his work shirt. 

you sat up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to take over. after each undone button, you kissed his skin, making him gasp as his fingers raked through your hair. 

pulling his shirt all the way off, you made your way to his pants, pulling him closer by his belt loop. you bit your lip, noticing the gears turning in his head.

“you know statistics say missionary or doggy are the best positions to get pregnant in.” spencer let out in shallow breaths as his belt clinked on the floor. 

“oh, yeah and why is that genius?” you leaned back on your elbows while spencer finished removing himself of his pants. he took you in, the tiny pink bow on your underwear made spencer rethink his crude response. 

“deeper penetration,” he said almost too smoothly, making you laugh. it was hard to take statistics seriously when you were both nearly naked. 

before he could settle above you, you shimmied up the bed. ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes, you positioned yourself on your hands. looking over your shoulder, you saw the way spencer’s eyes widened in shock.

“have you ever tried this one?”

my first spencer fic omg. lowk crazy because i’ve been obsessed with this man since the ripe age of 12 but here we are. will probably be writing a lot more of him since im rewatching cm at the moment so stay tuned! request box is always open <333

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 piña colada

synopsis: some women just can't take a hint... good thing Zoro's only got eyes for one girl.

cw: nsfw (oral: female receiving), this woman is really shameless, surprisingly tender Zoro, you two are so in love, kinda magical ngl, etc.

"Hey, there," a woman—who was in the tiniest bikini known to man—hummed, tone low as she approached the lounge chair. "I don't think I've seen you on this island before."

'For fuck's sake...'

Annoyed, Zoro let a heavy sigh out from his nose, not even bothering to glance in the girl's direction as his sunglasses shaded his harsh side eye.

You'd think after seeing eight other women walk dejectedly away from his umbrella, the others would catch the hint?

"Not interested," he stated, curtly, hands firmly tucked behind his head as he looked out to sea.

The woman chuckled, softly, completely ignoring his comment and taking a seat in the sand.

She sat criss-crossed, dropping her hands in her lap and using her arms to slightly push her tits together, attempting to endearingly lean closer to your swordsman.

"Don't be so hasty," she sweetly smiled, taking his rudeness in stride. "Haven't even given me the chance to speak."

"Well, that's 'cause I really don't give a shit what you say otherwise," he sighed, shutting his eyes.

"I can name ten other men off the top of my head that would beg to differ," she countered, slyly.

"I'm not other men."

"You certainly aren't..."

'Walked right into that one.'

His brows flattened, and for a moment he wondered if this was a real person talking, slightly glancing around to see if he could find a camera crew of some sort.

Yet, to his surprise, there was none.

"I have a girlfriend," he dealt the finishing blow, delivering the final line that scared away all the other women from before.

He could finally get some peace and quiet.

"I don't see her here," the woman shrugged, simply, as if what he just said made no difference to her.

Zoro threw his head back with an irritated groan, wanting nothing more than to drop kick the woman away and go back to napping.

This was all Luffy and Usopp's fault.

The crew had been docked on a tropical summer island for a few days, and for all of them, you and Zoro had gone down to the beach together and lounged in the sun—tanning, napping, eating, and drinking in rotation.

But on that particular day, the boys had whisked you away to go explore some cove they found on the beach's edge, leaving your swordsman to fend off the wolves by himself.

And at first, it wasn't that bad.

The girls that approached were polite and had pure intentions, and actually respected his wishes when he said he was uninterested.

But numbers four through eight?

Hell, the woman sitting next to him?

Less so.

"Are you deaf or somethin'?" he asked, brows furrowed as he sat up, not appreciating her comment at all. "I already told you, I'm not interested. So get lost."

"Oh, c'mon," she rolled her eyes with a laugh. "There's no way you actually have a girlfriend. No girl in her right mind would leave her man alone on a beach like this, especially if he was as handsome as you."

"Maybe that's why she's my girlfriend and you're not," he scoffed, sarcastically.

Her brow twitched, the remark clearly striking a nerve as her posture suddenly straightened, her sickeningly sweet tone turning sour in a second.

"Well then, maybe your girlfriend can step up and we can see who's really the shit," she spat, standing from her spot in the sand. "Since she's so fuckin' great, let's see how she fares in a fight."

A smirk rose to the woman's lips, her hand coming to rest cockily on her hip.

"I might not look it, but I'm this island's martial arts champion... And I've yet to lose a fight. So let's see how she does with her face in the sand."

Zoro paused a moment, almost disbelieving, lifting up his sunglasses and taking a breath to see if the woman was serious.

She was.

Deadly serious, actually.

'HA!'

The man threw his head back in a burst of uproarious laughter, the sound causing the woman to jolt with surprise, and slight fear.

She'd never seen his expressions range anything past annoyance, so seeing him so amused seemed almost uncanny, especially since he was nearly howling with hilarity.

But he couldn't help himself.

You, the woman with a bounty over one billion?

You, the woman with the devil fruit of the personified spirit of death?

You, the woman who has fought literal monsters with her bare hands?

Lose to a random martial arts lady on a peaceful summer island?

It was almost too much.

The woman's brows furrowed, face warming at the mockery.

"The hell's so funny?!" she huffed with a childish pout.

Attempting to regain his composure, he wiped a tear from his eye, slightly clutching his stomach as his laughs died down.

"She'd fuckin' kill you," he chuckled, shoulders bobbing. "Like actually."

Furious, the woman broke into a long-winded tirade about why she would win... or how badly you would lose... or something along those lines.

If he was being honest, he zoned out the moment she started talking, something more interesting seeming to catch his eye.

You.

Like a dog with a bone, he watched, mesmerized, as you made your way over, hips looking ripe and tender for the grabbing.

'Goddamn...'

After days in the sun, you'd developed a delectably smooth tan, the sunscreen you had him apply earlier giving your skin an alluring shine.

Eyes scanning over your body, he took in the light (f/c) of your bikini, which had a few complimentary, (o/c) flowers decorating its corners, along with the waist beads resting lazily over your stomach, not to mention the gold anklets and bracelets that littered your ankles and wrists.

You looked good enough to eat—a thought he didn't mind indulging in later.

"Hey! Are you listening to me?" the woman continued pestering him, her hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

Huge mistake.

Faster than she could even see, Zoro grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand off and staring her down with a deadly glare, his patience long since run thin.

The woman froze, fear slowly creeping into her chest at the sharpness of his eyes.

He looked like he had half the mind to slit her throat right there.

"I'm only gonna tell you this one last time..." he warned, tone leaving no room for argument. "Get. Lost."

Roughly, he let go of her, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, scurrying back over to the safety of her friend's towel just as you arrived.

"Hey, Zo'!" you chirped, taking a seat on your swordsman's lap as you took a sip of your cocktail, which was in a cut-off coconut.

"Hey, pretty," he greeted with a smirk, placing a kiss on your neck. "Whatchu got there?"

"Some kinda coconut-rum drink," you answered, plucking the pineapple off the rim and taking a bite out of it. "The guy at the bar called it a Piña Colada."

Zoro nodded, "S'it any good?"

"Might be a bit too sweet for you," you shrugged, holding it out to him. "But try it."

Leaning forward, he sipped a bit from the straw, his nose scrunching slightly.

It was incredibly sweet.

"Yeah, I figured as much," you giggled, amused by his expression as you took it back. "By the way, who was that girl that went running away from here? She looked scared."

Slightly, you leaned over to glance at her, who was sitting not too far away, and raised a brow as she quickly turned around, terrified by your gaze. 

'The hell?'

"Was she in trouble or somethin'?"

Zoro chuckled, knowingly, his hand sliding up your side to give your hip a lackadaisical squeeze. 

"Nah," he shook his head, finally leaning back and allowing himself to relax in the chair. "Just needed help takin' a hint."

"So... I miss anything while you were on your trip with Luffy?" Zoro asked with a smile, slowly gliding his oar through the sparkling ocean.

You lit up with excitement, suddenly reminded of the events of the day.

"I wish I dragged you along! You woulda loved it," you sighed, leaning back in your spot in the canoe. "Turns out this island isn't as peaceful as we thought. When we went to the edge of the beach, we found tons of monster-sized crabs and lobsters, all of them strong as hell."

You smirked, holding up your fist.

"Me an' Luffy made a game over who could beat the most, while Usopp kept count. And we ended up in a draw."

'Damn.'

That blew his day fighting off women right out the water.

He should've gone with you.

"What about you? Anything interesting happen while I was away?" you asked.

"Eh," he shrugged, moving his oar to the other side. "Nothin' worth mentioning. My day was honestly pretty boring."

But he was hoping to change that.

While you were gone, he found Nami and Robin on the beach, and managed to weave through theirs sea of admirers in order to ask some advice.

Things had been going really great between the two of you, and since you were always so good with surprising him with gifts and gestures, he wanted to try his hand at it.

Of course, he had no idea where to begin.

And while Nami was little to no help, spending most of the time talking his ear off about how brutish and hopeless he was, Robin recommended taking you out to the nearby cove for a romantic night.

So, after scrounging up his island allowance and buying some booze and a canoe, he swept you away, all of the day's tribulations fading to the back of his mind as he watched you sit down in his lap.

"Y'know, this is really sweet of you, Zoro," you smiled, your fingers carefully tracing the scar across his chest. "Makin' me feel all special..."

He nodded, eyes raking over your face with an almost analytical look.

God, you were so fuckin' pretty.

It was almost baffling.

If he wasn't in this canoe—

"Figured you deserved something nice," he cleared his throat, warding off the less than decent thoughts creeping into his head.

He couldn't keep the romance up if he was too busy thinking about jumping your bones.

But little did he know... you were thinking the same thing.

Shifting your position, you rested your knees on either side of him, smoothly moving to bury your face in his neck, placing firm, meaningful kisses on his flesh. 

Instinctively, the man leaned into your touch, one of his hands coming up to steady you at the small of your back, while the other continued to paddle.

Gliding your manicured hands up his body, you rested them on his strong shoulders, using them for purchase as you continued to nip at him.

His chest rumbled with a deep hum at the feeling, relishing in the way your lips felt against his pulse point, sucking a hickey onto his skin.

Yet, just as it was getting good, you pulled away with a soft pop, moving to obscure his view of the water.

"I'm blockin' you. You can't see. What're we gonna do?" you grinned, cheekily, continuing to move in front of him as he tried to peer around you. "Oh, my Gods, we're gonna crash."

He looked up at you with a small smirk and a raised brow, amused, as you continued your antics.

"Oh, no. What's gonna happen?"

Suddenly, his hand roughly pulled you into his side, a soft squeal leaving your lips as he chuckled, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and continue your kissing assault while his two hands returned to the oar.

Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you peppered lazy kisses on his skin, your hand coming up to card through the hairs at the base of his neck.

Tenderly, Zoro placed a few kisses of his own on your shoulder, his eye perking at the sight of your destination.

Robin had given him impossibly thorough instructions on how to get there, which is the only reason why you two hadn't miraculously made it to the next island.

"Hey..." he lightly nudged you as the boat approached the shore. "We're here."

Lifting your head, you carefully flew out his lap, touching down on the dry sand as he hopped into the shallow water, walking around to the back and pushing the canoe onto the shore.

"Oh, wow," you gasped, in awe at the beauty laid before you. "This is beautiful! Look at the view"

The moon hovered over the water, making the waves crystallize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky.

The sea breeze wafted your hair and cooled the sweat on your body from the heat of the day.

It felt good to get away from people, the serenity too nice to put off.

Suddenly, Zoro scooped you up, you in one arm and the case of booze in the other as he began walking toward the cove.

"It gets better," he smirked, leading you over to where the tall rocks flattened out and arched upward, turning themselves into a natural cabana.

Placing you down, he quickly gathered some sticks from nearby, before bringing them back and starting a fire.

And as he did so, you couldn't help but marvel at his body, thick, corded muscle flexing and extending under his skin at each minute movement, looking delicious enough to bite.

And that wasn't the blood-sucker in you talking.

You sighed in contentment as you tipped your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above

Finishing up, Zoro plopped down beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side with a proud smile.

"Nice, right?" he chuckled.

You lazily nodded, wanting to stay there forever—among the water, stars, and him.

You peered up at him through your lashes, hesitant to speak in fear of ruining the moment.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in them. And you let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head met the crook of his shoulder.

You embraced him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. 

There, you two stayed, holding each other, linked together like magnets.

"You smell nice," he murmured into your skin, taking a deep inhale of you. "Like coconut."

You smiled, shyly, warmth rising to your cheeks at the compliment.

And after a few silent seconds, he pulled away from you, his eyes dark as the night sky.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he stated, curtly, his gaze alight with enamor.

You didn't get to say a reply, too preoccupied with the lips pressing against yours.

The kiss was hungry, your lips moving against each other's like you both were starving for one another.

And you were.

You could tell Zoro wanted the same thing you did when his hands moved below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth.

He replied with his own grunt and pulled away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

"I wanna see you," he stated, his voice a deep rumble.

There was a molten tenderness in his gaze that had you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he had in store for you.

So you stripped.

Catching the hint, your hands glided up your back, pulling the string of your bikini top and letting your breasts fall out of the cups, along with the strings to your bottoms.

Zoro's eyes raked over the sight of you as if you were a piece of art he was admiring in a museum.

"Shit," he softly hissed to himself, amazed at the sight of your brown, hardened nipples.

You softly whimpered at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts, causing him to move on to other matters.

He leaned in and latched his lips onto one of your nipples, where he began to suckle on.

You threw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fell from your lips.

You couldn't help yourself, especially when Zoro began to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process.

Then he switched, giving your other breast the same treatment.

Your hands found his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the green strands.

You were ruining its somewhat even style, but he didn't seem to care.

He was more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice choked on a broken moan.

You couldn't take it.

All of this was going straight to your core, which was now throbbing and begging for attention between your thighs. 

"Please, Zo'..." you whined, gripping his hair. "I need you to touch me."

With a cocky smile, the man nodded, slowly leaning forward to lay you down in the sand.

Your eyes flitted up to the torch lit beach across the water, realizing any eagle-eyed person could come out and see you naked.

"Wait... what if someone sees us?" you asked, uncharacteristically timid.

A devious smirk rose to his lips, and he pressed a reassuring kiss on your lips.

"Let 'em... They'll be in for a show."

Gently, he pried your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet core.

You watched his face change from playful to downright feral as he stared at your cunt.

You flushed at his expression.

'Gods, give me strength...'

"Zoro, I'm serious—"

He shushed you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs.

"No more talkin', pretty," he growled against them. "All I wanna hear is my name on your lips."

He continued to pepper you thighs in kisses while his hands pinned your legs apart, his hold on you firm.

He didn't want you hiding from him.

And it felt good.

You didn't stop him when he dove right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he was making out with them.

It had been so long since the two of you'd gotten intimate like this, you nearly forgot the way the man worked his mouth.

Especially when he started to flick his tongue against your clit.

His tongue swirled around it and flicked it gently based on your responses.

And shit, you were responding well.

Your body couldn't help but react pleasantly to the sensations—your toes curling; your back arching; your eyes fluttering shut; your mouth falling open into an O as moans and gasps fell from your lips.

Zoro was not only good with his tongue, but good with his hands.

He reached up and played with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues.

"H-Harder, please!" you begged, to which he pinched the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the burst of pain making you gush all over his lips.

"Fuck, Zo'," you moaned. "That feels so good..."

Zoro hummed approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably.

"Keep feelin' good for me, pretty," he said between the wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. "Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head f'me."

Before you could even say anything, he was already tugging you closer by your ankle, earning a squeal from you.

He stood on his knees for a moment, taking you in.

His lust-blown eyes trailed up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you.

Then he inhaled deeply, as if struggling to process the sight in front of him.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' gorgeous," he huskily said.

You had no idea what to say to that.

All you could do was shyly smile up at him as he stared down at you, both of you enchanted with each other.

Then he was ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head.

This gave him better access to your pussy so he could easily tongue-fuck you.

As soon as you felt the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit you were in heaven.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your hands found his hair, gripping the blonde strands as your hips began to grind shamelessly into his face.

"Mmm-hmmm," he hummed approvingly, keeping up the pace.

He didn't pause or slow down.

He continued to work your pussy just how you wanted, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above.

It didn't take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you.

You couldn't help it.

His tongue just felt too good.

Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risque position turned you on more than you'd like to admit.

Zoro must've realized you were close because his jaw started to move fast, accompanying his tongue-fucking with porn-worthy grunts of his own that nearly threw you over the edge.

"Fuck, Zoro!" you whined. "M'gonna come!"

Eagerly, he hummed into your pussy, pulling his tongue out of your hole and proceeding to suck on your clit while his finger began to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides.

But it was enough to push you further and further down that road to releasing all over him.

His darkened eyes flicked up to yours, staring you down between your thighs.

"Come for me," he demanded. "Come for me, baby. Don't fuckin' hold back."

He grinned up at you, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.

He attached his mouth to your pussy again, and ran it until you couldn't help but fall over the edge.

"Come for me," he groaned into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reached higher pitches. "Come for me. Come for me. Come for me."

And you finally did.

That tight knot in your core finally snapped and a wave of euphoria washed over you as you came all over Zoro's face and eager lips with a loud moan.

You saw the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushed, your body shivering and shuddering.

Your back arched and your hips widened into Zoro's face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally faded, you were left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so good.

Zoro lazily cleaned you up, taking care to not overstimulate you as he ran his tongue over your sensitive, twitching core.

Then he lifted his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices.

With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hummed to himself.

"You taste better than the rum."

[prentisslvr]

YOU CAN COUNT ON ME

summary; you have evan pretend to be your boyfriend because of a creep at the bar. (established friendship with a hint of mutual pining)

pairings; evan buckley x fem!reader

genre; fake dating, fluff!!

warnings: mentions of harassment and a man who can’t take no for an answer, attempted violence & sexism. allusions to sex.

“hey baby.” you smile, sliding into the seat next to buck, kissing his cheek softly.

your smile was wide and your eyes shining with love and adoration, evan wondered if he’d been sucked into a parallel universe where his dream came true.

buck frowns and turns to look at you. “go with it, please.” you whisper, evan still doesn’t get the hint but he sees the desperation in your eyes, and shrugs, leaning down and pecks your lips.

“hi honey.”

his tone was dull, and full of confusion, instead of a loving boyfriend, the role he was meant to be playing right now, eyes searching yours, for an answer.

you couldn’t blame him, for his bad acting you hadn’t gave him time to listen before you’d planted one on him.

the guy who had been following you, ever filled with confidence slides in between you and evan, smirking at you. “this your boyfriend then sweetheart?”

you blink gulping, evan finally understands and stands up, manoeuvring around the guy throwing an arm over your shoulder, smirking in a way that would’ve made your knees weak if it was in any other context.

“yes i am.” he says confidently. “in fact, soon to be husband.” he adds. “so, do we have a problem here?”

the guy, probably drunk out of his mind scoffs in disbelief. “what’s a girl like you with a guy like this.” he crossed his arms over his chest in an aggressive way.

“that guy, is a firefighter.” you glare. “and he’s a good one at that, and so am i, and you’re a drunk.” you say. “are you suggesting that you’d be the better option.”

the man, nods, less confident now, clearly he was growing agitated. “i could please you in ways he never could.” the drunk man smirked growing closer, you could smell the alcohol on him and you cringed.

you laughed bitterly and evan squeezed your arm in support. “i can assure you that’s just completely not true.” you smirk, gently pushing him away.

“there’s a reason they call him firehose, and it isn’t because he’s a firefighter.”

evan blushed furiously, to hear his best-friend who he’d been pining after say something like that, even if it was to bruise another man’s ego, it made his heart rate spike.

the man gritted his teeth and lifted his hand, as if he was about to hit you, evan, had quick reflexes and a good eye, and grabbed his hand preventing it from hurting you.

“if you touch, come near, or even think about my girlfriend, i’ll promise i will hurt you.” evan grits out, making intense eye contact with the man, the man after a while, gulps and nods, he hangs his head as he walks away.

once he’s gone you sigh and lean your head on bucks bicep in relief, looking up at buck thankfully.

“you’re lifesaver buck, really.” you chuckle. “if that was too much i understand, i’m sorry.”

“nah don’t worry.” evan puffs out his chest. “it is like you said, i’m a lifesaver.” he smirks, but suddenly is eyes soften.

“but i’m also your bestfriend, and i need you to know you can always count on me.”

“i know.” you smile softly. “i’ve always known.”

[y3sterdaysproblem]

you’re not sorry - m.s.

summary: could’ve loved you all my life if you hadn’t left me in the cold

warnings: angst, sensitive topics, no happy ending.

{read with caution}

wc: 3k+

Another night.

Another night waiting up for your boyfriend who could never be bothered to let you know when he’d be home; if he’d even be coming home that night.

It was like this for months at this point. Day after day of you waiting up just for him to stumble inside smelling like alcohol and weed, clothes disheveled as he plows through your front door. You didn’t even know what had changed, but it had.

Things were so good, beyond good, to the point where you guys were considering marriage, considering a family. Maybe it was all too much for him, but that wasn’t your burden to bear.

Your perfect, loving boyfriend had turned into someone you barely recognized, having to look so hard to find pieces of the man you fell for in the man you no longer knew.

You were about to give up and head to bed when you heard keys jingling at the front door, the man outside clearly struggling to unlock it. You stayed planted on the couch, waiting for him to finally come crashing in and make up some excuse about what he was doing out so late. You never believed him anymore.

When the door swung open and your boyfriend stumbled through it, his eyes met yours almost instantly, a small, forced smile appearing on his face. “Hey, baby,” he calls out, shutting the door behind him and kicking his shoes off before he made his way towards you, tripping over his own feet once or twice until he sat down next to you.

You let out an aggravated sigh, standing up and walking away from the couch, not wanting to sit next to him and smell the alcohol leeching off of his breath. It was beyond disgusting and if the smell didn’t make you sick, the thought of everything would. The thought of your life crumbling in a matter of months was enough to make you cry so hard you threw up on multiple occasions, the depression caused by this man that swore he loved you being the culprit of so many breakdowns you couldn’t even count anymore.

“You’re drunk, Matt,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

His eyes trail up to you, shaking his head quickly. “I’m not drunk, just tipsy, I swear. I stopped drinking a few hours ago.”

Your heart dropped. A few hours ago?

“And where have you been in those last few hours, hm?” You question, not really knowing if you wanted to know the answer.

Matt groans, throwing his head back on the couch. “Here we fucking go. All you do is nag on me fucking constantly, why do you think I’m gone all the time? I’ll tell you. Because you can’t fucking shut the fuck up and let me live for two minutes. You’re always up my ass asking me what I’m doing or who I’m with.”

Your heart starts to race in your chest, knowing you’re about to get in another fight with the man you used to never argue with. You used to have perfect communication, always able to work through your issues and things that bothered you, but now it was like a flip switched and he wanted to argue about everything, sober or not.

“I never see you anymore, Matt! You’re never home to just spend time with me! All I fucking want is to lay in bed and watch a movie with my boyfriend who cuddles with me and tells me he loves me! You act like I don’t exist and it hurts and I’m trying to stay but sometimes I wonder why I do.” Your voice is shaky as you speak, the adrenaline and emotions quickly getting to you. You never were good at fighting without crying.

“Why?” Matt questions quietly, dropping his gaze to his lap.

You’re confused. “Why what?” You ask him dryly, arms still crossed in an attempt to protect yourself, almost like you were protecting your heart.

He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Why try to stay? If I’m so awful?”

Your breath catches in your throat. Was this it? Was this the fight you’ve been fearing for the last few weeks? Has everything you both have worked towards finally hit a wall?

“Because… because I keep hoping this is just a phase and you’ll snap out of it and love me again,” you choke out, tears filling your eyes. “I don’t understand what I did to make you not love me anymore and every day that I sit here by myself and think about it, I can’t come up with an answer and you won’t tell me. I would do fucking anything for you and you can’t even tell me you love me anymore.”

Matt let out a big sigh, picking at a rip in his jeans absentmindedly. “I do love you, I just… I need some time to myself.”

You scoff, crying now and not trying to stop it. “You don’t think I would’ve given you time? Space? Matt, all you had to say was that you were getting overwhelmed and needed time think about what you wanted, I would’ve understood that. Do you understand the fucking weight behind that? You have a woman who would let you take a step back from a relationship just because she knows how much you value your own space and time and your own autonomy. You will never fucking find a woman that will treat you the way I treat you. You will never find someone who loves you unconditionally through everything, including this. I swear to god, Matt, you better get your act together before you come home to fucking nothing.”

“Maybe that’s what I want!” Matt yells suddenly, getting up from the couch to walk over to you. You weren’t afraid, you knew he’d never hit you, but he’s also never yelled in your face like this either. “Maybe every fucking night I come home hoping you’ve packed up all of your shit and left. Hell, you could pack my shit and I’d be happy, I don’t fucking care, I just want to come home and know that you’ve finally given up on me. Don’t you get it? I’m trying to make it easy for you. I’m trying to be the worst boyfriend I could possibly be and you still won’t leave!”

The moment he’s done speaking you swear you could hear a pin drop. You felt like your world had completely stopped spinning on its axis.

You’re lightheaded as you stare at Matt, tears flowing freely down your face. He really was completely unrecognizable.

“What did I do?” You cried, still wanting nothing more than to feel your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you and tell you everything was going to be okay. But he wouldn’t, and it wasn’t. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Matt listened to your cries with a straight face, barely even seeming like he cared. “I just… don’t want to be with you anymore. Our relationship has run its course.”

You drop your head and let out a broken sob, reaching a hand up to try to wipe away your tears, but it was to no avail, they would just keep coming. “I love you with everything I have, I… I need you, Matt, how could you do this?”

Matt is silent, feeling like he’s already said all he needed to say. If he cared at all, he really didn’t show it.

You pick your head back up and look at Matt, your own eyes red and puffy, when you see it. You think it’s a shadow at first, but the more you stare, the more you realize your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You take a step forward and reach towards Matt, pulling the hood off his head and tugging the collar down, another choked cry falling from your lips.

“Is that a fucking hickey?” You accuse, looking up to meet his eyes. “You’re fucking cheating on me, too?!”

Matt grabs your wrist and pulls it away from him, throwing your arm back towards yourself before pulling his hood back up. “Back the fuck up, dude, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You laugh in his face, shaking your head in disbelief. “You are so fucking pathetic, Matt,” you spit at him. “You are so much of a pussy that you couldn’t even be a man and break up with me, you needed me to do it for you. Do you feel good about yourself? Knowing you cheated on someone who would literally give you the world? God, I can’t believe I almost gave you a fucking kid, you’re a joke of a partner. I feel bad for anyone that has to deal with you for the rest of their life.”

Matt clenches his jaw tightly at your words, hating how you knew exactly how to strike a nerve with him. “You think I feel good about this? I fucking don’t but I didn’t know what else to do, you would’ve never listened if I tried to leave you, you would’ve talked me into staying and I would’ve been miserable for the rest of my life!”

“You are the one that said you wanted a family! The one that said you wanted to marry me and buy our own farm and live in the middle of fucking nowhere! You said all of those things, not me!” You wanted to hit him so bad. To shake him, to kick him, to do anything to make him see how none of this made sense to you. How could he say all of those things and turn on you so quickly?

You two were laid in bed under the blankets, neither of you ready to get out of bed for the day just yet. The sun shone through the blind, illuminating Matt’s face perfectly, his blue eyes reflecting the light in a way that had you damn near in a trance, unable to pull your own eyes away from him. “I hope our babies have your eyes,” you tell him quietly, both of you laying on your sides to face each other.

He smiled shyly at you, closing his eyes for a moment. “Stop admiring me, it makes me awkward.” He mumbled, making you laugh.

“I’m your girlfriend, I’m supposed to admire you. Plus, it helps that you’re really hot and easy to admire.” You reach up and brush your hands through his hair that definitely needs a trim, pulling it back from his face to get a better view. “I’m serious, though. Your eyes are so pretty compared to mine.”

Matt opens his eyes and shoots you an annoyed look. “Stop it, our kids would be lucky to have any of your features, you’re fucking stunning.”

You giggle and roll over onto your back, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before speaking. “Do you ever think about that? Like what our kids will look like? I think about it all the time. Especially like… a little girl, running around with your bright blue eyes and your big smile. I just know if we had a little girl she’d be so beautiful, Matt.” You turn your head towards your boyfriend to see him already smiling at you.

“I think about it all the time,” he starts, reaching a hand out to rest on your stomach that had been exposed by your shirt riding up, softly trailing his thumb back and forth. “I think about how protective I’d be if we had a daughter, or daughters. I think about how much of an honor it would be to raise a son with you. I think about what would happen if you got pregnant with twins or, god forbid, triplets.” You laugh at this, knowing it would be an absolute shit show. “I think about our kids, sure, but a lot of times I think to myself, ‘wow, if I love her so much now, I can’t imagine how much I’ll love her when she’s the mother of my children.’ That’s what I think.”

Your eyes become glossy and your vision goes slightly blurry as you stare at Matt, seeing the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke to you. “I love you,” you tell him and his face lights up, leaning in to place a small kiss on your lips.

“I love you more.”

“I did,” Matt shrugs his shoulders like it was no big deal. “But feelings change. People change.”

You shake your head angrily, not believing him. “No, not like that. Feelings don’t change like that, Matt. You met somebody else, didn’t you? All this time you’ve been seeing someone else.”

Matt groans, rubbing his eyes harshly. “So what?! It doesn’t matter, we’re over now, right? I’ll sleep on the couch and pack my shit tomorrow, can we just go to bed?”

You sniffle, the truth finally setting in that he’s completely given up and there was no getting him back. The Matt you once loved was gone forever and there was nothing you could do about it.

So you decided to land the final blow and make him realize how stupid he really was.

You grab his right hand with your left, facing it palm up as you reach your free hand into your pocket, grabbing the strip of paper you had kept in there, waiting for the perfect moment to drop this bomb on him. You slap the paper into his open hand before taking a step away, crossing your arms again.

“What is this?” Matt asks, staring down at the photos in front of him, panic setting in his chest. “Babe… babe, what is this?” He looks up at you, eyes wide. You swear you could almost hear his heart pounding.

“It’s an ultrasound, jackass.” You snap at him, completely over his shit.

Matt’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, eyes snapping between you and the photos. “You’re… pregnant?” He chokes out. Despite all the alcohol he’s consumed tonight, he feels the most sober he has in weeks, the reality of the situation crashing into him like a truck.

You laugh at his reaction, hating how he suddenly cared about you again. “Was,” you tell him bluntly, shrugging your shoulders like nothing you said mattered. “Turns out never getting any sleep and stressing out over your loser, lowlife boyfriend isn’t good for a baby.”

Matt lets out a huff of air like his lungs had collapsed in on him, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “You… you were pregnant, and now you’re not?” He asks quietly, his own voice now shaking.

“Yes, Matthew, I was and now I’m not. That’s how that fucking works.” You walk over and snatch the pictures from him, ignoring his pleas of denial. “While you were out doing whatever the fuck or whoever the fuck you wanted, I was here throwing up every day by my fucking self, barely even able to eat oatmeal without getting sick. I was here reading up on how to get through pregnancy or how to be a good mother. I was here shopping for fucking baby clothes and decorations. And I was the one here miscarrying in our bed, by myself!” You have no idea when you started crying again, but you were, and there was no stopping it this time. “I was the one going to doctors appointments and listening to our baby’s teeny tiny heart beating. I was here looking at pictures of her tiny feet and tiny toes, wondering if she’d look like you or like me. I was here picking up the pieces when I found out her teeny tiny heart had stopped.”

Matt’s eyes had filled with tears now, too, his bright blue eyes only made brighter by the reflection of the lamp lit in the corner of the room. “Her?” He croaked, voice failing him. “It was a girl?”

You let out a sob, nodding your head weakly. “I found out the day I found out she was gone,” you cry, voice entering a higher pitch from your throat tightening. “I wanted her so bad, Matt, and I was just waiting for you to come around so I could tell you, and… you just never did and now we’re over. I went from a girl who wanted nothing more than a family with the man she loves to being a girl who’s oddly grateful she lost a baby so she doesn’t have to deal with looking at her daughter that reminds her of the man that broke her heart.”

Matt reaches up to wipe the tears from his cheeks, releasing a shaky breath out. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, looking you dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry, if I had known-.”

“If you had known then what? You wouldn’t have treated me like shit? You wouldn’t have cheated? That should’ve been the bare fucking minimum, Matt, and now you’ve let down who was supposed to be the two most important girls in your life.” You point your finger at him as you speak, wanting to drive your point home and let him know how badly he had fucked up. “I would’ve done fucking anything for you, including growing your baby, and you threw that away, not me.”

“I was just scared, it was all happening so fast!” Matt wails, reaching out for you. “I got overwhelmed with the thought of settling down and I freaked out, I’m sorry.”

You push his hands away, ignoring his pleas. “You said it yourself, Matt. It’s over. Besides, I can’t bring her back. I’m always going to look at you and remember how you treated me when I had your baby inside me, and how you treated me when I dealt with the loss of our baby.”

Matt sobbed, placing his head in his hands as his shoulder shook. “I didn’t know!”

“You shouldn’t have to know!” You cried, hands flailing in front of you as you spoke, or more yelled. “You shouldn’t have to know I’m pregnant just to treat me like your fucking girlfriend! I would’ve done anything for you, including give up my body for nine months to give you a family, and you couldn’t even be loyal, and you have to live with that for the rest of your fucking life.”

Matt sunk to his knees in front of you, head resting on your stomach as he wraps his arms around your hips. You just stare down at him, your tears dripping into his hair. “I’m so sorry, please let me fix this,” he sobs into your sweater, hands gripping the back of it. “I fucked up so bad, I see that now.”

The sight of him made you want to crumble. You wanted to give in, to comfort him, to forget these last few months and go back to being the perfect happy couple you used to be. You didn’t know how you were supposed to live without him after all this time.

But you deserved better.

“Get up,” you tell him quietly and he turns his head up to look at you, cheeks soaked with his own tears. You reach down and cup his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes to wipe new tears that fell. “Get up, Matt.”

He sniffles and obliges, standing in front of you once again, closer this time.

“You’re not sorry you hurt me,” you start, voice surprisingly calm. “You’re just sorry it backfired so badly.”

Matt grabs your hand that still rested on his face, holding it close and leaning into it. “Please,” he says, voice raspy. “Can we spend one more night together?”

You break eye contact to drop your eyes to the floor, shoulders shaking with the sob that ripped through your body.

“Yes,” you croak out, immediately melting into the arms that wrapped themselves around you like you’d disappear if he let go, your face tucking into his neck that smelled like cheap floral perfume, the scent feeling like a dagger to your heart.

You ignored it, though. Anything for one more night with the love of your life.

-

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[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Tw: parent abandoning their child, fluff, angst, crying, anxiety

Series masterlist

Noah’s living room felt warm, the golden light of late afternoon spilling in through the window, creating a calm atmosphere. You were sitting on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your legs. Luna, wearing her favorite bunny sweater, was sitting cross-legged beside you, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Noah was leaning back on the couch, clearly trying to act annoyed but already failing.

Luna had been waiting for this. His hair had finally gotten long enough for you two to try braiding it, and you was more than eager to help.

"Okay, Noah, hold still," you said, your voice light and teasing as you ran your fingers through his locks.

Noah groaned dramatically, half-sitting up with a roll of his eyes. "Why do I always let you do stuff like that to me?"

You smiled at his grumbling. “Because you love it,” you teased, your fingers working through his hair with practiced ease, slowly pulling it into sections. His hair were soft, and you loved the feel of them between your fingers.

Luna, who was sitting beside you, held up the first hair tie, her tiny face serious as she inspected it. “Here, this one first!” she declared, raising her little hands as she held the bright purple tie out to you.

"Thanks, Luna," you said with a smile, taking the tie and gently securing the first section of his hair. “We’re doing a great job.”

“Yes!” she chirped happily.

Noah, pretending to scowl, leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I let you both do this to me. I'm the only one suffering hare."

You leaned over and kissed the side of his head. “Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. You’re gonna look great.”

“Mh. Sure” he muttered, but the soft smile on his lips betrayed him.

Luna passed you another hair tie, this time a bright blue one, eyes wide as she eagerly waited for the next step. She was in full-on “helper mode,” even though she didn't quite understand the mechanics of braiding yet. It was adorable. You were doing most of the work, but she was right there beside you, picking out the ties, handing them over with excitement.

"We don’t have the pink one!" She suddenly declared.

You turned to Noah, feigning concern. “Oh no, we definitely need the pink one, right?”

Noah gave you a sidelong glance. “Sure, we definitely need it,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but he couldn’t hide the little glint in his eyes.

You smiled and watched as Luna rushed off to her bedroom to find the missing pink hair tie. Turning back to Noah, you continued working on his hair, gently weaving the strands together. As you did, you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked like this—relaxed, with his hair half-braided, the strands falling in soft locks around his face.

"You look cute like this," you said quietly, your fingers brushing through his hair again.

He shifted slightly, his lips curving up just a little as he turned his head toward you. “Mh. You think so?” he asked, his voice quiet but with that familiar playfulness beneath it.

You nodded, your fingers still working through the strands. “Yeah, really cute.”

You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering for a second. His eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, the teasing smile replaced by something warmer.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his fingers finding your hand and giving it a soft squeeze. Then, he leaned in and kissed you on the lips. Gentle and slow.

You pulled back slightly, smiling at him, as Luna appeared in the doorway, holding up the missing pink hair tie triumphantly. “Found it!” she said, grinning from ear to ear as she ran back over and handed it to you.

“Good job,” you said, taking the tie from her and getting back to work on the next braid.

Noah adjusted himself on the couch, his hand resting on your thigh as you continued braiding his hair. His touch was slow, almost absentminded, but you could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric of your jeans. With his other hand, he reached down and pulled Luna up beside him, his fingers gently rubbing her little back as she settled against his side.

"You’re doing great," you said to Luna, giving her a reassuring smile as you worked.

Luna nestled into Noah, her head resting on his arm. "I’m the best at this,” she whispered almost to herself, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Noah laughed softly, his hand still gently rubbing her back. He glanced at you, his gaze soft and affectionate, before leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You leaned back and admired your work, the little braids now neatly secured in place. "Yeah. Definitely cute," you said.

He couldn't help but chuckle.

The next day, Noah stepped into the the band's living room, Luna bouncing ahead of him as she ran toward the group. The guys were lounging around, but as soon as they saw Luna, they lit up.

“Whoa, look how tall you’re getting!” Jolly exclaimed, crouching down to Luna’s level. “You’re almost as tall as me now!”

Luna giggled, standing on tiptoe and puffing out her chest. “I’m this tall!” she said proudly, arms stretched high above her head.

Noah leaned casually against the doorframe, smiling at the interaction. “Yeah, except she’s the shortest in her class at daycare,” he teased. “She didn’t get that from me.”

Folio, lounging on the couch with a sly grin, chimed in, “She got it from me then. Being tall is not the most important thing, you know?”

Noah rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Dude, we’re not even related,” he said, shaking his head. "You remember that, right?"

Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, yeah, sure."

Matt, who had been quietly watching the exchange, leaned forward. “So, Luna,” he said, “what are we gonna do today?”

Luna’s eyes immediately lit up. “We are drawing!” she exclaimed, poiting to some sharpies and pens she left on a little table in the corner of the room the last time he was there. “I draw big flowers and rainbows, and sometimes cats. And daddy. And Y/N. And you uncles.”

Nicholas leaned in with a grin. “You draw cats? I really wanna see one."

Luna nodded seriously. “I can draw you one! But only if you color it with me.”

“Deal!” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m an expert at coloring!”

Folio raised an eyebrow. “Hey, does that mean you’re gonna be a famous artist one day?”

Luna’s eyes sparkled as she thought about it. “Maybe! I’ll make big art and sell it for a lot of money. Then I’ll buy ice cream!”

The group laughed.

“And you, Uncle Folio?” Luna asked, her tone serious but playful. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Well, I’m pretty good at playing the drums. And I like fishing."

Luna looked at him with a bit of disgust painted on her face. "I don't like fish."

"I'm better at making music, don't worry."

Noah, who had been watching the interaction with a grin, suddenly caught himself thinking about Jason. He almost wanted to talk about the situation with the guys again but he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Maybe next time.

Luna turned to Noah and gave him a big smile. "Daddy, are you going to draw with me too?”

Noah chuckled. "I think I’m better at making music than drawing too.”

Luna frowned playfully. “I think you can do both.”

Noah smiled softly, already talking a sharpie in his hand. “You’re right. I can do both.”

You talked with Jason for the second time three days later.

The Breakfast Nook was rather quiet, that morning. You were behind the counter, chatting with Noah, who was sitting on the bar stool at the counter, drinking his usual cup of tea.

The bell above the door chimed softly as it opened, and when you glanced up, your heart did a little stutter when your eyes landed on Jason.

He was standing in the doorway, framed by the light that poured in from the street. He was wearing a light brown jacket, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos on his forearms. His blue eyes scanned the room with an almost unsettling intensity, like he was looking for something specific.

Noah noticed him at the same time you did, and there was a sudden shift in his posture, a subtle but undeniable tension in his shoulders. You could see the way his eyes narrowed as he took in Jason’s appearance and the way he moved into the coffee shop.

You turned back to the espresso machine, trying to stay composed, but you could feel the weight of Noah’s stare, the quiet energy between you both, shifting.

"Uh-oh," Grace’s voice cut through the quiet of the shop. Her tone was sharp and knowing as she peered over from behind the register, her eyes already locked onto Jason. “This is gonna be fun."

You shot her a glare, but she was already smirking, knowing that something was about to happen.

Jason moved toward the counter, his gaze fixed on you. As he stepped closer, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rise in your chest. You hadn’t seen him for three days, and now, you couldn’t deny the unease that curled up inside you as he stood there, so close.

“Hi,” Jason said simply, his voice smooth, low. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes held a sort of curiosity, as though he was waiting for something, perhaps for you to speak first.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice steady. You waited for him to order, but instead, he just stood there, silent, looking at you.

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Noah, who was staring at Jason now, his fingers curling around his teacup. The air felt thick between the three of you, and it was only a matter of time before Noah broke the silence.

“Hi,” Noah’s voice was surprisingly firm as he stood up, his posture protective, his gaze not leaving Jason’s. “I’m Noah. Her boyfriend.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. You didn't expect that.

Jason’s gaze flickered between you and Noah, a slight raise of his eyebrows betraying his surprise, but he didn’t react immediately. Grace, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with a bemused expression, snorted quietly to herself behind the counter, stifling a laugh.

Jason finally talked. “Oh, uh, hi, man. I’m Jason. Yeah, I’ve heard of you,” he said, his voice polite, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. His gaze lingered on Noah for a moment before Jason extended his hand, waiting for Noah to shake it.

Noah didn’t move, his hands still firmly wrapped around his teacup, his expression unchanging. Jason’s hand remained outstretched, but Noah simply stayed there, eyes locked on Jason.

“Good,” Noah said finally, his voice low, almost bored. He didn’t offer his hand in return.

You felt like the tension in the air was thick now, almost palpable, as if the room had stopped breathing. Jason just nodded once, like he’d accepted the silent challenge. Then, without a word, he turned his attention back to you, lowering his hand.

“I’ll just have a cappuccino. To take away,” Jason said, his tone casual as if nothing had just happened.

You nodded quickly, your fingers already moving to prepare his order. He was still watching you, and for some reason, it felt like he was studying you, trying to read something in your face.

He paid for his coffee, gave a nod of acknowledgment to Noah—who didn’t respond—and then turned to leave. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air felt charged as he walked out of the door, the bell chiming softly as he left.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Noah’s gaze stayed fixed on the door, a frown tugging at his lips. “I don’t like him,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight. “I really don’t like him. He was looking at you the whole time.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of unease Jason had left behind. “Well, I work here, Noah. It’s kind of my job to be looked at.”

Noah’s jaw tightened, exhaling a sharp breath as if he were trying to hold back something.

Grace, who had been watching the whole thing with an almost painful amusement, decided it was time to throw in her two cents. “I work here too, sweetheart,” she said. “But he was looking at you.”

You shot her a look that could kill, but Grace didn’t seem to care. She just smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos she’d just witnessed.

“Are you seriously gonna act like that wasn’t weird?” Noah said, his eyes not leaving the door, his fingers drumming restlessly against his mug. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice sharp, trying to deflect the growing tension. “You’re being ridiculous. He’s just a customer like anyone else now.”

Noah shook his head, his brows furrowing in frustration. “Yeah, of course."

Grace chuckled and you shot her a pointed look, which she ignored again, and tried to focus on the customers coming in.

“Well, I'm going to the studio,” Noah muttered, his hand going to his jacket as if he were about to get ready to leave, but you stopped him with a quick touch to his arm.

“Wait,” you said softly, though you could still feel that knot in your stomach. “Are you... are you mad at me?"

Noah hesitated, but then he sighed, rubbing his temple. “No. No, I'm not. I just don’t like him,” he muttered again.

“I know,” you replied quietly, glancing back to the door where Jason had just walked out. “But it's okay. We're okay. Don't worry."

"Mh."

"Come here."

You leaned over the counter to kiss him before he left and when you felt his little smile against your lips, you immediately felt better.

"See you tonight?"

"See you tonight."

The soft glow of the nightlight flickered in the corner of the room, casting a warm, comforting light across the space. Noah was standing by the side of Luna’s bed, his hand gently brushing through her hair as she settled under the covers.

“Cozy, huh?” Noah said softly, pulling the blanket up over her tiny form.

“Mmhmm,” Luna hummed, snuggling into the pillow, her eyelids drooping. She yawned, then blinked up at her dad, her voice small and sleepy. “Today, Emma was talking about her mom.”

Emma was Luna’s friend from daycare, a year older than her, but that was not the important part of the conversation.. He turned slightly, making sure to keep his voice calm, even though he could already feel the weight of what was about to come.

“Was she?” Noah asked, his voice soft, carefully measured. His stomach twisted.

Luna nodded slowly, her little face tired but curious. “Yeah. She asked me how my mom is like.”

Noah was sure his heart skipped a beat. He swallowed hard, trying to find a way to keep the conversation light. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And what did you tell her?” he asked, though he already knew what the answer was going to be.

Luna shifted in the bed, tucking her tiny hands under her chin, her brows furrowing slightly. “I said... I don’t have one.” She paused, then, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, asked, “But why don’t I have one, daddy?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, Noah’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes stung with something he didn’t want to face. The question was so innocent, but it was also a reminder of what he couldn't keep.

His fingers trembled slightly as he brushed a lock of hair from Luna’s face, trying to steady himself.

Luna’s big eyes were wide now, searching his face, waiting for an answer. Noah’s heart ached at the trust in her expression, the way she needed him to make sense of something that was far too complicated for a little girl to understand.

He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to stay steady even though it trembled slightly.

“Look, princess...” he started, his voice a little strained. He paused, taking another breath before continuing, trying to put the words together in a way that would make sense, in a way that wouldn’t hurt her.

“We are a very special family. Your mommy, when you were very, very little, decided not to be with us anymore.” His chest tightened with the words, but he kept going, pushing through the lump in his throat.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you so much, Lu. You’re my world. And I’ll always be here for you, okay? No matter what.”

Luna blinked up at him, her sleepy little face taking in his words, though the understanding wasn’t fully there. She was too young to really grasp the weight of what he was saying, but Noah could see in her eyes that she trusted him. That was enough.

“Okay,” Luna said softly, her voice already drifting off, the sleep overtaking her once more. “Yes, daddy.”

Noah smiled faintly, relief flooding through him, even if the pain of the conversation still lingered in his chest. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly but not too much for Luna to notice.

"Love you too." Luna’s eyes fluttered shut, her breathing steady as she finally sank into sleep, her small form finally at rest. Noah stayed for a moment longer, just watching her peaceful expression.

Then, with one last glance, Noah stepped back from the bed, pulling the door open just enough to slip out.

He gently closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch echoing in the stillness of the house.

For a moment, he just stood there, in the dark hallway.

It was when he heard your voice that he realized he was crying.

You were still on the couch when Noah when to put Luna to bed, telling you he would be right back.

You heard him closing the door of his daughter's beroom behind him after a couple of minutes, the soft click echoing in the quiet hallway.

Then only silence.

You waited for a moment, thinking that maybe he stopped in the bathroom but you didn't hear any footsteps, so you stood up and walked towards the hallways, flipping the light switch on to figure out what was happening.

You saw him as he took a couple of slow, heavy steps away from Luna's room, his head slightly down, his posture tense. He wasn’t conpletely facing you yet, but you could tell something was wrong.

You walked toward him instinctively, your heart aching just from the way he was standing even before you realized that a single tear was slowly crossing his cheek.

When you reached him, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “Noah. Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond immediately. But then, as if the words you spoke somehow unlocked something inside him, his breath hitched. A shaky exhale left his lips, and suddenly his body wracked with sobs.

Your heart broke. You had never seen Noah cry before—let alone like this. Never had you seen him so vulnerable, so completely shattered. The sound of his sobbing felt like it was ripping through the stillness of the house, and it pierced you deep in your chest. Without thinking, you moved closer, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to hold him together the best you could.

“Baby… what happened?” you asked, your voice trembling with concern.

Noah just shook his head, the sobs coming harder now. He couldn’t speak. The weight of whatever was tormenting him was too much to bear, and you could feel the rawness of it in every tremor that ran through his body.

You held him tighter, trying to soothe him, but his shoulder kept shaking under your hands, and you knew there was nothing you could say or do to stop the storm inside him. You pressed your cheek to the side of his head, whispering over and over again, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You felt the tears against your neck, and your own eyes began to sting as you realized just how much he was suffering. You gently cupped his face, wiping away some of the tears, but his pain wasn’t something you could erase.

All you could do was hold him, let him cry, and be there.

After a while, when his sobs had calmed just a bit, you reached down and took his hand in yours, guiding him to the bed. He followed you wordlessly, his movements slow and unsteady, as if he were in a daze. Once you sat him down, he immediately let himself fall onto the bed, his head resting against your stomach.

You settled under him, pulling the blanket over you both, and began to run your fingers gently along his back and shoulders, trying to calm the trembling in his body. He hid his face in your shirt, his breath still shaky as he tried to steady himself.

His arms wrapped loosely around you, but it was as if he were clinging to you for dear life.

“I’m here, baby,” you whispered softly, gently scratching the back of his head, “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

The minutes stretched on, and you felt his breathing begin to steady.

You didn’t rush him. You didn’t push him to talk. You just kept whispering comforting words, running your fingers over his skin and through his hair. You could feel the weight of his fears in every soft exhale, and it only made you want to hold him even tighter.

Eventually, he spoke. “Luna asked why she doesn’t have a mom.” His words trembled as he said them, and you could hear the guilt in his voice. “And… it just... it stirred something in me. I’m always so fucking scared. I’m scared I’m not enough for her. I’m scared of messing up, of not being a good enough dad. I let her mom leave... I should’ve done something. For her. I should’ve—”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing over his hair, softly. “No, baby. You are enough. You’re an amazing dad, Noah. Luna loves you so much. You did everything you could. Nothing that happened is your fault."

Noah’s breath hitched again, and he buried his face further into your stomach, his voice muffled but still desperate. “And I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he said, his words barely audible.

“I know you love me, I know you wouldn’t leave me, but I can’t help it. I’m scared, baby. Every day. Every time I wake up and you’re not next to me, I'm always so fucking scared and I feel it in my chest and I don’t even know how to explain it… and now, with Jason back, I don’t know. I just feel like… like I’m not enough for anyone. Like I'm about to lose you.”

His words almost physically hurt you.

You could hear the rawness in his voice—the depth of his insecurity, the weight of everything he was carrying.  You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your hand moving gently along his back.

“Listen to me,” you said, your voice firm but gentle, ���You are enough, Noah. I've already said it and I'll keep repeating it. You’re more than enough. You’re an incredible dad, an incredible boyfriend. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. And I love you so much.”

Noah took a deep breath, the shaking in his body starting to subside. You continued to stroke his back, between his shoulder blades, your hand moving in slow, soothing circles, trying to ease the tension still gripping him.

His breathing began to steady, and though he didn’t say anything more, you could feel him start to relax under your touch. You could feel the fight slowly leaving him, the fear and the guilt starting to soften.

His hand moved up to rest against your chest, fingers gripping your shirt as if he were afraid to let go. You let him do it.

And as the night went on, you just held him, whispering reassurances, your fingers always gently caressing his back.

Your t-shirt was damp with his tears, but you didn’t care.

You weren’t going anywhere. You wouldn’t let him go through this alone.

Eventually, Noah’s breath grew even, his body still against yours, the last of his tears falling on your shirt. You kept running your fingers over his back for a little longer, ensuring that he was calm, letting the gentle rise and fall of your chest be the rhythm he could settle into. When you were sure that he had finally drifted into a peaceful sleep, you allowed yourself to relax as well.

You stayed there, the sound of his steady breathing the only thing filling the quiet room.

You watched him sleep for a few moments.

And only then, you let a few tears fall from your eyes, that, landing on your shirt, mixed with Noah's.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicolelynn @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog

[maracujatangerine]

91. A conversation

CW: institutional slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation, box boy universe

“Cory… I think we need to talk.” Lydia’s tone was cautious. Carefully gentle. “What do you think?”

Coriander had been sitting slumped against the wall on his green pillow in the kitchen. When Lydia spoke, he instantly straightened up.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. T-this pet needs to talk. It has been thinking.”

“Okay.”

Lydia sat down in her usual chair, facing him. For quite some time now, she had been more relaxed around Coriander. She had felt able to trust their report and that also he would be less vigilant in interpreting any gesture of hers as a sign of displeasure or censure. Now, however, she once again felt herself hyper aware of her own body language. Do not cross your arms, she reminded herself. Shoulders turned towards him, heart open, posture welcoming. She smiled, and nodded.

“I’m listening. We can talk about whatever you want.”

“T-this pet has been thinking about what.. what has happened to it. About why it is here.”

Coriander rose to his feet, perfectly graceful as usual.

“Miss Lydia, This pet did volunteer, it did. It knows it did.” He pulled a shaking hand through his blonde hair. “T-there w-was a signature, on a paper, and… and…” He shook his head. “T-this pet cannot remember. But.” He looked down at Lydia, grey eyes suddenly fierce. “B-but this pet knows that it wouldn’t have volunteered if it knew. If it knew what it was going to be like. Nobody would volunteer for that.”

He started to pace the kitchen, back and forth, his shaking hands drawn tightly into fists.

“The cold, the beatings, the starvation, the experiments, the violence, the abuse, the contempt, the neglect.” His whole body shaking, he stared unseeing out the window. “The way you are never good enough.”

Lydia could feel her whole chest ache in phantom pain as her heart hurt for him. She wanted to reach out to Cory, but she was also afraid to disturb whatever path he was on. This was probably the first time ever he named the things he’d been going through.

When he just stayed silent, breathing hard, staring out the window, she eventually said, as gently as she could.

“Cory. This is terrible, and I am so sorry that it happened to you. I’m really glad that you can start to talk about it, though. I’m here, and I’m listening to everything you want to talk about.” She paused, and when he showed no sign of even having heard her, she added. “I just want to remind you that this is never going to happen to you ever again. You are safe here.”

He whirled on her, then.

“B-but, Miss Lydia. If nobody w-wanted to buy it, this would not have happened to this pet.” He paused and swallowed. “This would not have happened to me!”

Looking down, he continued. “You have been kind to this pet, that is true. But there is a paper in the drawer there…” He pointed, his whole arm an accusing arc. “That says that you own it. Whatever you want to do to this body…” He hesitated and plunged on. “…to this soul, it is your right to do it.”

Coriander shook his head slowly, grey eyes boring into hers. Very slowly and steadily he said. “Miss Lydia, i-if it wasn’t for you - a-and many more people like you - t-this pet wouldn’t be here.”

He hung his head, then. Exhaustion and a spasm of pain flickering over his face for just an instant. Gritting his teeth, he met her eyes again.

“Miss Lydia, t-this pet needs some time alone. May it be excused to go for a walk?”

Lydia nodded quickly, biting her lip.

“Of course, Cory, whatever you need.”

The blonde young man inclined his head respectfully, but the fire in his grey eyes did not die down.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Lydia held it together while Coriander went out into the hallway, put on his shoes and coat, and walked out the door.

It was only after she heard the sound of the latch clicking closed that she leant down on the smooth, wooden surface of the kitchen table, hid her face in the crook of her arm, and cried.

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔙𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

Mike munroe x male reader

A request that I received from a really nice person here on tumblr: a small idea I liked for a fic if you like the idea as well. Nothing too big, just a fic about Reader and Chris being brothers and constantly nagging each other about their crushes on Ashley and Mike.

I expanded the request a bit, sorry if I went overboard with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: set before the event of the game. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Chris and the reader are brothers. Some very quick shifts of pov between characters. Jealousy. Mike and Jess/ Emily are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Mike is a flirt.

Words count: 4000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this clue that you can find while playing as Chris.

The music thumps in the background, a mix of bass-heavy beats and voices blending into a dull roar. You and Chris sit at a small, round table near the back, well out of the action but with a good view of everyone mingling.

"So," Chris says, taking a long, dramatic sip. "You actually spent the whole night staring at Mike. Dude, seriously, you're lucky your eyes didn't burn a hole in the back of his head."

You scoff, leaning back in your chair with a mock sigh. "Like you're any better. When are you actually gonna talk to Ashley? She's cool, she's cute, she's well, out of your league but hey, a guy can dream.”

"Hey, I do talk to her," Chris retorts, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh," you say, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a lot if you can manage to squeak out a sentence before turning red.”

Chris chuckles, crossing his arms. "Fine. Why don't you go up to Mike and tell him what you think? 'Hey, by the way, I've been thinking about how perfect your jawline is all night!’ I'm sure that'll go over great." He did a horrible interpretation of your voice to mock you even further.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush just a bit. "First of all, I would never phrase it like that. And second, at least I actually know things about him beyond his favorite book."

"Oh, really? Let's see who knows more about their crush. No cheating. No wimping out. Winner gets bragging rights." Chris leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Bragging rights? How about you admit I'm objectively hotter than you when I win?" you echoed, folding your arms.

"Sure. Whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night," Chris said, grinning as he dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I'll go first since I know you're just dying to hear all the juicy Ashley knowledge."

You chuckle. "Go with your in-depth research, Sherlock."

Chris clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "Fine. For starters, her favorite color is purple."

You make a face, unimpressed. "That's it? You think knowing her favorite color makes you the expert here?"

"Let me finish, smartass. She loves thriller movies. She also has this little habit of chewing on her nails when she's nervous."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Okay, okay, not bad. But that's kid stuff. Let me show you how it's done."

Chris rolls his eyes, clearly not expecting much. "Alright, hotshot. Give me your best Mike trivia."

You sit forward, lowering your voice like you're letting him in on a secret. You have always been good at noticing things. Maybe it was a result of growing up with Chris and when it came to Mike Munroe, your crush, the small things were more than just interesting, they were revealing.

For one, every morning, without fail, he was up before the sun. He’d go for a quick run to stay in shape. You’d always catch glimpses of him at college heading back to his room in a tank top, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead and glimpses of sweat on his forehead.

He had this tough, confident exterior. He wasn’t loud like some of the others in the group. He had a way of using humor to deflect, to keep people from getting too close. You saw it when he’d brush off any talk about specific topics.

And then there were his tastes.

He likes his coffee black. Pretends it's macho. He had a surprising amount of nostalgia in his preferences. You couldn’t forget the time you’ve talked together casually on the lodge, his face lighting up as he talked about his love for old action movies.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Alright. Maybe you’re better equipped than me. But, let's be real, you wouldn't even know where to start."

"Better than starting with nothing," you counter. "Besides, I could charm him if I wanted to."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What would you even say?"

You grin, leaning in like you're revealing a grand plan. "I'd just walk up and ask him about his football season. Mention that time he scored the winning touchdown. You instead are hopeless"

Chris nods, pretending to take you seriously. "Oh, sure, because that'll definitely make him swoon. Hopeless? Me?" Chris laughs, leaning back with a smirk. "At least I don't have to worry about being mistaken for a stalker."

You both burst into laughter. For all the banter, you know neither of you would really judge the other for these harmless crushes. It's what makes the night so much fun.

From across the room, you caught sight of Ashley standing awkwardly near a table stacked with half-empty snack bowls and crumpled napkins. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Romeo. This is your chance," you said, leaning closer and nudging Chris with your elbow.

Chris snapped out of his trance, his head swiveling toward Ashley. His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in amusement before settling back into a more thoughtful expression.

Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do? Walk up and make everything even more embarrassing?"

"News flash: she knows you're a loser," but she clearly likes you anyway. Stop overthinking it. Just go talk to her. Be romantic for once. She loves that whole 'awkward and sincere' thing you've got going on."

"First of all," Chris said, pointing a finger at you, "I'm not awkward. I'm, uh, charmingly self-aware. Second, what if I say something dumb? Or worse, nothing at all? I can't just walk up to her and-"

"You're a coward," you interrupted, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Yep," he said, popping the "p" and lifting his cup in mock toast.

You were scanning the room until your gaze landed on Mike Munroe.

He was leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand, chatting with a girl you vaguely recognized from English class. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored in all the right places, the dark fabric catching the light just enough to highlight his athletic build. The black foulard tied loosely around his neck was an elegant touch, a little different from the usual bow ties and neckties most guys wore. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he hadn't even tried but still managed to look effortlessly handsome.

You felt your chest tighten. For a moment, your imagination betrayed you, painting a picture of Mike turning toward you, smiling like he did when he told one of his dumb jokes when he got elected class president. You could almost hear his laugh, warm and inviting, as if it were just for you. But reality snapped back into focus when the girl he was talking to leaned closer.

"Mike would never look twice at me like that." You mumble more to yourself without thinking, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

Chris, placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light but reassuring. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a catch. If Mike doesn't see that, he's an idiot."

You looked up at him, grateful but unconvinced. Chris stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "I'm getting us drinks. Let's make it through the rest of this night together, yeah?"

You nodded, watching as he made his way to the bar. You glance around, your gaze landing once more on Ashley and an idea strikes you. Chris is now far away from your position. It’s your chance to do something.

You stride over to her, flashing a friendly smile, keeping your movements casual so you wouldn't startle her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed you, but she relaxed as you softly took her arm.

"Hey," you said, grinning playfully as you gently guided her away from the corner.

Ashley laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement but no resistance as you led her toward your table.

"Come on, you can't let Chris and I have all the fun sitting in the corner judging everyone." you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a mock-serious expression.

"That's what you two have been doing all night? Very productive." She scanned the place as you reached the table and she managed to spot Chris at the bar, meticulously mixing something with an unusual level of focus. But then her gaze shifted, catching Mike watching the two of you.

Jaw set, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes tracked the way you gently tugged Ashley along. His gaze lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Lips pressed together in a faint, almost imperceptible scowl, as though something about the sight of the two of you together unsettled him. There was a slight tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed just a bit too stiff for someone casually enjoying a party.

Chris returned with two drinks in hand. "Okay, I've done it," he announced dramatically. "The ultimate drink. If you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you ag-" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw Ashley sitting at the table, smiling up at him.

"I... uh..." Chris stammered, turning an impressive shade of pink.

"You made this for me?” Ashley asked sweetly, taking the drink from his hand before he could respond. “Thank you, Mr. Bartender."

Chris blinks and he lets out a nervous laugh, giving you a quick glare as he hands the drink to Ashley.

She giggles, taking a sip and you watch as Chris visibly relaxes. They share a smile and there's a warm, unspoken understanding between them, a quiet moment that you can't help but feel a bit envious of.

The music shifts, slowing into a softer, more romantic melody. Couples move onto the dance floor, swaying together in a slow embrace. Ashley’s eyes light up as she turns to Chris, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint from the slight inebriation she feels. "Come on, Chris," she says, tugging at his hand. "Want to go there for a bit?"

Chris's eyes dart to you, searching your face for reassurance, his expression almost apologetic. He's asking, without words, if you'll be okay.

You manage a smile, giving him a nod.

Chris lets out a laugh, his tension melting away as he lets Ashley pull him onto the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table. You watch them go, feeling a bittersweet pang in your chest as you take in the sight of them together, laughing and smiling, fitting together so effortlessly. Chris fumbling his way through the first few steps before finding his rhythm.

They looked so happy.

And you were here instead, alone at the table, your thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mike.

Chris feels his heart race as he stands on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on Ashley's waist, her arms draped over his shoulders as they sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Her gaze meets his every so often, a smile warm and genuine, making him feel like the only person in the room.

"I didn't know you had these moves." she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I don't. I'm just doing my best not to crush your toes."

Ashley laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rolls her eyes. "You're doing just fine. I don't mind if you, you know, relax a little."

"Relax? Yeah, I can... I can do that," he says, voice faltering as he tries to ease into the rhythm, matching her movements as the song continues.

His focus wavers after a while, gaze drifting over her shoulder as he catches sight of his brother sitting across the room at one of the tables with Matt nearby.

There's something off about the way you're holding yourself. You're smiling, sure, even laughing at something Matt is saying, but Chris can tell that the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's the kind of forced expression he's seen on you before, usually when you're trying to act like everything's fine when it really isn't.

Matt, on the other hand, seems entirely oblivious, leaning in a bit too close, his face lit up with that typical over-eager grin. He's almost leaning into your personal space as he chats away, looking way too thrilled to have your undivided attention, his eyes never leaving yours. The proximity feels a bit too familiar, too comfortable, with his arm casually resting on the back of your chair.

Chris feels a pang of protectiveness twist in his gut. He glances around the room, half-expecting Emily to appear and pull Matt back to the dance floor, but there's no sign of her. Instead, he spots her on the far side of the room, tipsy and laughing as she spins around with some stranger she's apparently mistaken for Matt. She's caught up in the music, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is practically glued to your side.

Ashley notices his distraction, her gaze softening as she studies him. "Chris?" she asks, her voice gentle, bringing him back to the moment. "Is everything okay?"

He blinks, snapping his attention back to her, guilt creeping in as he realizes he's been distracted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just... got a lot on my mind."

Ashley smiles, tilting her head as she searches his face. "You sure? You can tell me, you know."

Chris hesitates, glancing around the room one more time. His gaze lands on Mike, who's slow-dancing with the girl in glittering dress. She's leaning against him, her head resting on his chest, but Mike's attention isn't on her.

His eyes are locked in your direction, his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a subtle scowl that's hard to miss. There's a tension in his gaze as he watches you and Matt together. There's a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, a subtle clenching of his jaw that makes it look like he's holding back the urge to step in but doesn't quite know how to act on it. His brows are drawn together and his eyes flick between you and Matt with a guarded intensity.

Chris frowns, glancing back at you. It's clear now that something is brewing beneath the surface, something he doesn't fully understand but can sense all the same. He looks down at Ashley, his expression softening as he makes up his mind.

"Hey, Ash?" he asks quietly, feeling a bit awkward but determined. "Would you mind helping me out with something real quick? I, uh... I owe someone a favor.”

You were mid-laugh at something Matt had said about his latest sports practice when a shadow loomed over the table. You looked up to find Mike standing there, holding his drink loosely in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, Matt," Mike said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge like he's asking for a favor he already expects to be granted. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?"

Matt's smile falters, and he glances at you, a bit reluctant, as if he doesn't quite want to let go of the moment he's carved out. "Uh... well, we were just-"

"Looks like Emily's about to make out with that guy," Mike interrupted, tilting his head toward the dance floor. "You might wanna handle that before it gets messy."

Matt whipped his head around, his face paling slightly as he spotted Emily drunkenly giggling and leaning far too close to the stranger. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "I'll, uh, catch you later." he says to you, giving you a quick nod before he disappears into the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Mike said smoothly, his smirk widening as Matt hurried off. You glance back at him just in time to catch a wicked grin flash across his face as he watches Matt weave his way toward Emily.

He turns back to you and without a moment's hesitation, he slides into Matt's now-empty chair, shifting it even closer to yours with an obnoxiously loud scrap of wood against the floor. He dropped into the seat with a satisfied sigh. His arm resting along the back of your chair but soon sliding fully around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, made your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. From this close, you could see every detail of his face: the light beard perfectly trimmed along his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the infuriatingly perfect way his smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was leaning into his persona, that cocky, playful charm cranked up to eleven and it was doing things to your brain you weren't sure you were ready to admit.

"Well, this is cozy," Mike said, his voice low and smooth. "Didn't think Matt was ever gonna leave. Guy's got some stamina for talking, huh?"

You blinked, struggling to form words. "Uh, yeah. He's chatty"

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and teasing "Chatty? That's the nicest way to put it. Bet he's been boring you to death, huh?"

"Not entirely," you said, though your voice was far too shaky to be convincing. "He's enthusiastic."

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "You're too nice, you know that? If I had to sit through more than five minutes of that guy's rambling, I'd be asleep in my chair."

You laughed, though it came out a little too breathy. "Maybe I'm just better at pretending to be interested."

"Pretending, huh?" Mike's smirk widened. "So, what about me? Are you pretending to enjoy this little moment we're having?"

Your brain short-circuited. "I... I mean, no. I-uh... you're not boring. Definitely not boring."

"Good to know," Mike said, his voice dipping slightly as he leaned in just a fraction closer. "I'd hate to think I was putting you to sleep."

"You're not," you managed to say, your face burning.

Mike grinned, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

“I’m not nervous,” you said quickly, though your gaze flickered away from his, betraying you.

“Sure you’re not,” Mike murmured, his fingers brushing just a little too close against your shoulder, the touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. “What were you and Matt talking about? You looked a little bored." His tone was smooth but there was a faint edge to it now, like he was testing the air.

You noticed the subtle shift in his expression. His jaw tightening just slightly, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second as if he didn’t quite like the idea of you and Matt sharing a private moment.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just sport stuff and his latest victory for his team. He was just being friendly,” you added, trying to sound indifferent.

You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered just briefly toward the ground before locking onto yours again.

Mike’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, he looked real friendly.” The smirk that followed didn’t help, pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he was more amused than you thought he should be.

You raised an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Mike just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, the innocence in his voice so forced that you could almost feel the tension cracking around him. The grin stretched wider, like a challenge. “Just saying, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Matt was hitting on you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. You tried to play it off, but there was no denying the way your heart stuttered in your chest. “He wasn’t,” you said quickly, your voice coming out a little more defensively than you intended.

"Either way. Figured I'd come over and I don't know... make the night more interesting for you. Prom only happens once, right? Gotta make the most of it. Besides—” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity that takes you off guard. "—I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time with you."

You swallow, feeling the heat rise to your face as his words sink in. "You have?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion. "I mean, I could've come over sooner but you were busy with your brother. Then you were with Matt and I figured, maybe it's time I got a little selfish."

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhilaration. "I... didn't think you noticed me like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grin softens, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently rest on your waist, pulling you even closer. "I notice a lot more than you think," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Like how you always look away when you think I'm watching, or how you get that little crease in your forehead when you're trying not to smile too much."

Mike makes a silent note to himself to later thank Chris for the insights he’d shared minutes ago.

You laugh, feeling both embarrassed and overjoyed. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

He chuckles, his arm tightening around your waist as he dips his head a bit closer, his voice a soft murmur. "Can't help it. You’ve got me so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it." His fingers press gently into your side.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a tenderness that surprises you. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerability that makes your heart race. “Let me be the happiest guy in this place tonight.”

You feel your pulse race at the invitation, your mind whirling with both excitement and uncertainty. "What about that girl you were with?" you ask, your voice quiet and hesitant, unable to stop yourself from wondering.

Mike's smirk returns, his hold on your waist tightening slightly as he leans in, his voice a soft, almost possessive murmur. "She's not you. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.” His voice is rough, coated in something darker.

You meet his gaze, feeling your breath hitch as you search his face, trying to process the weight of his words.

He takes his chance to lean in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that leaves your heart racing. His lips crashing into yours with a desperate urgency that leaves you reeling. His hand slides around your waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body sears through your clothes, and his thumb traces a slow, deliberate line along your cheek, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, that familiar cocky edge in his eyes. His eyes burn with that familiar, dangerous gleam-a challenge, a promise. His breath is ragged, as if he's barely holding back.

"Still up for that dance? Because I've got this new boyfriend I'd really like to show off." he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks at you with that trademark mischievous grin, the one that could melt anyone’s defenses.

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his words, a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. Your heart skips, caught between the sweetness of the moment and the thrill of his presence. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you meet his gaze, and though you can barely keep your composure, you nod.

Mike's grin widens and as he takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor, you feel as if you're floating, lost in the warmth of his gaze and the excitement of being his.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[clarkeybabey]

❝ playing my heartstrings like a rock star ❞

# summary; you're messing with his feelings and he doesn't understand why

# playlist; hey arthur!, arthur hill, think i'm in love with you, chris stapleton, please notice, christian leave

# word count; 1.9k

# note; i needed a happy ending my first fic on here cant be angst<3 I did not proofread this so sorry

The three boys sat in their sitting room, a comfortable silence lingering as they scrolled through their phones. "Arthur wants to know if we're going to come to the pub with him," George finally spoke up, looking to his friends and mentally crossing his fingers they'd agree. They deserved it after the week they've had.

Arthur chews the inside of his lip waiting for Chris' reply, not wanting to be the one to reject the invitation, but he knows you'll be there after your earlier text about going for drinks.

Chris shrugs laying his phone down next to him, "I don't see why not," both he and George stand, heading in the direction of their bedrooms to grab sweaters and shoes, assuming everyone is down.

When they disappear from sight, Arthur finds himself groaning, pressing his palms so hard to his closed eyes that he sees stars dotting his vision when he eventually opens them. It's not that he doesn't want to see you, he knows that when he does he can't resist the later idea of going home with you and he hates himself for it.

"They can't know," you always say, referring to your shared group of friends, "it'll throw off the dynamic, you can just come to my flat for the night on the weekend." You're grown adults, who cares what you get into when you're alone? He doubts anyone would really care as much as you think, but every time he tries to express that someone ends up with their feelings hurt, and 99.9% of the time they're his.

He makes his way to his room, spending more time than he cares to admit trying to find the cologne he knows is your favorite. His closet's a mess, but he finds the jumper you love to steal kicking himself for trying so hard as he throws it on over his old t-shirt. He stands in his bathroom pulling a baseball cap on to cover how flat his hair had become from lying on the couch for the last two hours.

Chris is yelling something from the kitchen about how he's worse than a woman about his looks, he can't find it in himself to care enough to think of a witty reply, instead just shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

their bar of choice isn't far so they decide walking is the better and cheaper option, the walk is quick, and he stays a few paces behind his friends with music playing in his airpods as he gives himself a pep talk preparing to see you.

You sit at the bar with Becky and Arthur chatting about everything and nothing all at once, "You know, babe, I still need to get you on see it off, George and both Arthurs have nominated you now," she remarks, smirking as she brings her pint to her lips, you look to Arthur whos nodding along with her.

As the three of you chat, you're practically yelling over the people around you, "Let me know a date and we'll get it sorted," you smile, Arthur pipes up about needing the toilet and slips off his stool heading off in the direction of the restrooms.

As soon as he's out of sight, she scoots into the seat he once inhabited with her brows raised, "Anything new with you and Mr Hill?" You sigh, dreading having to answer that question, "There won't be anything new ever I don't think, I've made it clear how bad of an idea we are," your stomach turns at your own words, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea wash over you.

It wasn't like you didn't want anything other than to be with him, but everyone was so close and the what if's shadow how good the relationship could be.

What if something bad happens and you can't spend time together as a big group any longer? What if you couldn't film together? What if you had to listen to songs written about how bad of a girlfriend you were? She groans, her head falling onto her crossed arms, "You're so doubtful, darling. Give him a shot, he's such a sweet boy, especially to you." She sounded exactly like your mum when you told her the same thing after he came home with you one weekend. Sighing you continue, "I've never met someone like him-" You're cut off suddenly as rough hands slap over your eyes, "Guess who," George Clarke and his atrociously fake, heightened voice are quite unmistakable, you shove his hands away, giggling, and spin on your stool.

Your heart thumps against your chest, rattling your ribcage knowing there's no chance he and Chris showed up without the one person you've been waiting all week to see, sure enough there he is, though he's not even looking in your direction instead his eyes are glued to his phone screen with both headphones in, obviously not wanting to be here in the slightest.

You greet the boys not really paying any mind to anything being said, keeping your attention on Arthur the whole time. finally, once the four of your friends are distracted, you slip off your barstool and join him at the table he was sitting at alone, "You alright?" your question hangs in the air as you sink your teeth into the plush of your lower lip, "Fine, thanks," he replies dryly going out of his way to seem as uninterested as possible.

Scoffing, you snatch his phone from his hand, pausing whatever was playing on his Spotify, "Talk to me, please? I missed you." His eyes soften at your words as he fights with himself not to give in to you too easily, "missed you too," he mumbles as he picks at the skin on his fingers anxiously wanting to spew all the thoughts he's having about the two of you. Together.

Luckily for him, you beat him to it, "I wanna be with you," your words are lost to him at first as he sputters, not truly believing what he's just heard. He hates the way you can read his mind, "Like, seriously, I mean it, but we can't" he shakes his head bitterly, thinking this has to be some sort of sick joke you and Becky had strewn together.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that, y/n? I mean, seriously, tell it to someone else." He sounds so dismissive, and it hurts, but nothing hurts as bad as the sight of tears welling up in his pretty eyes. You just sit there, looking at him blankly with a lump forming in your throat, searching his eyes for something other than what he's said, but you can't seem to find it.

You scoff sliding his phone across the table back to him, "Right, sorry," you nod biting at the skin on the inside of your cheek, you turn on your heels and Arthur hates the look that you give him over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around yourself, like you see right through his attitude into the deeper side of things.

When you return George is wearing the glasses you mistakenly left in now-drunk Becky's purse, faking your accent in the worst way you've ever heard, "Those are prescription, you're gonna hurt your eyes," you sigh shaking your head, doing your best to smile. You pull them away from his face by the bridge, folding them to tuck into the v of your top, "Think 'm gonna get going," you mumble, avoiding everyone's eyes as the laughter dies down.

"So soonnnn?" Becky pouts jutting out her bottom lip for good measure, tucking your phone into your back pocket, murmuring something about how you have to film in the morning. Your friends say goodbye as you go around hugging everyone, when you get to Chris he pulls you in and whispers into your ear, "Take Arthur with you, please? He's bloody miserable." His breath is hot and riddled with the smell of beer as it fans across your face.

From across the room, Arthur feels his blood run hot as Chris whispers something to you and his hand lingers on your waist for longer than he deems friendly or comfortable, rolling his eyes he nibbles at the dry skin on his bottom lip until he begins to notice the familiar metallic taste of blood linger on his tongue. Nothing about this evening was going well and it just seems like lives trying to get back at him for something he doesn't even know he's done.

He was too busy in his own head to notice your presence just next to him, "C'mon, my uber's waiting," nearly falling off his stool as your words snapped him from the trance he was in, "Not up for it tonight," you scoff at his words, of course, he's thinking the opposite of what you had planned.

"Don't want you to fuck me, just wanna spend time with you," His brows raise involuntarily at your bluntness, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing you can't stay away just as much as he, boosts his confidence every damn time.

He doesn't find it in himself to reject you again, simply sliding off the still and interlocking your fingers, hoping to God every one of your friends is watching. As you make it outside your uber is in fact not there, he's about a mile out so you lean against the brick wall, Arthur's close proximity looming over you, "What was Chris on about?" Your drooping eyes shoot open, and the jealousy in his voice makes you smirk, seeing an opportunity to toy with him, just a bit,

"What's it to you," you shoot back, arms crossed over your chest he steps closer suddenly invading your space, his cologne which so happens to be your favorite begins to cloud your nose and mind as your chest rises and falls, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "You know exactly what it is to me, sweetheart."

His thumb and forefinger grip your chin forcing you to meet his eyes, the rings of his hands are cold against your heating face, "If 'm going home with you, I suggest you share." Your breath hitches at the dominance that's suddenly radiating off him, you fight the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head as his breath fans across your face, instead letting them fall closed once more.

You swallow, once more allowing eye contact, "He thought you were miserable and I should take you home with me." The smirk on your face makes Arthur regret ever telling Chris and George about how he'd wanted to spend more time with you. "I want to give this a shot," he scans your face waiting for you to remind him how you shouldn't but you don't say anything else.

"You mean it," his thumb rubs circles on the exposed skin of your hip, you nod, knowing words would betray you, "Need to hear you say it," he sounds breathless, looking at you with hopeful raised eyebrows.

"I wanna be your girlfriend-" his lips meet yours before you can even finish your thought, both hands cupping cupping your face. A wolf whistle comes from your immediate left and he pulls away but doesn't step back, shielding you from view, though you see over his shoulder as both George and Arthur hand Becky what look to be ten-pound notes.

[captainsophiestark]

Dance Like Nobody's Watching

Dick Grayson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: DC

Day Twenty-Seven Prompt: "Let me remind you."

Summary: Dick's SO is having trouble adjusting to the new scrutiny of attending Wayne galas as his date, but thankfully, he has an idea to help with that.

Word Count: 1,449

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sipped my champagne, trying to get a handle on my nerves. I could handle fighting the Joker and Scarecrow with no problems, but attending a Wayne gala as the partner of Dick Grayson was throwing me for a loop.

I fought the urge to scowl about it. If one thing could make this night more awkward, it would be some person I barely knew finding me making faces in the corner.

What irritated me the most was that this was by no means my first Wayne gala. I'd grown up with Dick and spent countless hours in the manor with him and his family. We'd been each other's primary entertainment at these things as kids. But being here as his date, and as an adult expected to do more than turn the banquet tables into a fort, was turning out to be surprisingly stressful.

When we were kids, nobody seemed to care what we did much beyond just noticing and thinking we were cute. Now, it seemed like everybody in this room wanted something from Dick, and either saw me as a threat to their ability to get it or as a secret backdoor to him, if only they could get me on their side.

I was seriously on the edge of losing it and going back to the buffet tables kid-style.

Dick had done his best to stick with me, but people kept showing up to pull both of us away from each other for a conversation, and we hadn't been able to do much without being incredibly, obviously rude. I'd finally managed to extract myself enough for some breathing room, but I could see Dick still in the middle of things, a group of old men who almost certainly wanted money from Bruce talking his ear off.

Even from here, I could tell Dick was barely paying attention to them. His eyes scanned the crowd, and after a moment, they landed on me. He raised an eyebrow, and I gave him a reassuring smile. Unfortunately for me, he knew me too well and was too good of a detective to believe it.

Dick quickly made his excuses to the men around him, and didn't take no for an answer as he left the conversation and headed in my direction. He crossed the massive room quickly to stand before me, and this time when I smiled at him, it was much more genuine.

"Hey," he said, returning my smile and leaning in to kiss my temple as soon as he reached me. "How are you doing?"

"Good." I tried to strengthen my smile, but Dick saw right through it. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"...Are you sure?"

I sighed. "It's just... this all feels a little weird. I've known you forever, you know it's never been important to me that you're the famed son of billionare Bruce Wayne. But it seems like that's all anybody else here can think about, and they all either hate me because they want to be with you or want to be my new best friend, all so they can get to you and Bruce. It's fine, none of their opinions matter to me, but... I just didn't expect to feel so weird coming to one of these things again."

Dick took a step closer to me, reaching out to take my arm with a concerned look on his face. He spoke quietly enough that, even if someone had been intentionally eavesdropping (which had happened more than once tonight), they wouldn't be able to hear him.

"Do you want to go? I'm happy to leave if you want to. We don't have to stay here."

I shook my head before he'd even finished his sentence.

"Running and no-showing Bruce's galas isn't a long-term solution. And seriously, it's fine, I'll adjust. I just... I don't know. I miss the days where we hid under the punch bowl giggling out of sight of everybody, you know?"

My boyfriend grinned. "I mean, if you really think about it, there's nothing keeping us from doing that again."

"I can think of a few things," I laughed, swatting his shoulder lightly. He hummed, but sobered quickly as he scanned the room, clearly thinking.

"Well... if you're sure you don't want to commandeer the space under the desert table?"

"I'm sure."

"Then why don't we try dancing? That's a little more... socially acceptable than hiding under the tables, but it's one of the things we used to have the most fun doing at these things. Remember how we'd just take over the entire floor to do whatever we wanted when we were kids?"

I laughed. "Yeah, of course. Although it's a little harder to remember the feeling that inspired us to just run out there before."

Dick smiled softly and extended his hand to me.

"Let me remind you."

My heart did a little backflip, especially when I met Dick's sparkling blue eyes. I huffed a little laugh of disbelief, especially at the thought of stepping into the center of the spotlight when I knew just how many people were going to be watching. But then I looked at Dick again, and I decided that, as long as I was with him, they didn't matter.

I took his hand, and he didn't waste a second before pulling me after him to the dance floor. I laughed, unable to hold back a smile even as heads turned towards us. Dick ignored them completely. He pulled me to his chest when we reached the center of the floor and wrapped an arm securely around my waist, the other taking one of my hands. I rested my free hand on his shoulder, and as we started swaying together to the music, his eyes didn't leave mine for a second.

"You know..." he started after a moment, drawing my attention back from a glance over his shoulder to where people were watching us. "This is nice, but a slow dance wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

I gave Dick my full attention and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but... what did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "Something more like this."

Suddenly, Dick was spinning me out and away from him, twirling across the floor before pulling me back. We'd know each other long enough and spent enough time as vigilante teammates that his steps were easy to follow, even as he started something closer to swing that didn't match the music at all.

I laughed, a warm feeling spreading through my chest as I shared a smile with my partner. In the back of my mind, I knew more people were probably watching and judging than ever. But suddenly they didn't matter like they used to.

Dick swung me around again, then pulled me close and into an exaggerated dip. If I didn't know he was a superhero, I probably would've been a little worried about him dropping me. Instead, it just made me laugh, especially as Dick grinned and led me into something way too close to something you'd do to Cotton Eye Joe.

With every second that passed on the dance floor with Dick, everyone else in the room faded further and further away. It felt like when we were kids, just me and the most important person in the world to me having the time of our lives.

"Feel any better?" asked Dick, whispering in my ear as he pulled me close again, both hands wrapped tight around my waist. I smiled, running my hands up his arms and across his shoulders.

"So much better. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. We're partners, you know I'd never leave you hanging."

I pulled back enough to meet Dick's eyes, and found their familiar sparkle and a smile waiting for me. I gave him a soft smile back.

"I love you, Dick Grayson. So fucking much."

Dick beamed back at me. "I love you too. Now come on, the band's finally catching on to what we want. I want to dance with the love of my life to music that's actually fun for dancing."

I just laughed as Dick swung me out and away from him again, the two of us twirling across the floor, this time in sync with the now-faster music. Suddenly, after a few minutes with Dick, the propsect of all these Wayne galas didn't seem nearly so daunting anymore. Sure, I might have to deal with a few unpleasant strangers whose opinions didn't matter to me. But I'd also get to do this, laughing and dancing and having the time of our lives, with my favorite person in the world.

Worth it in the long run, as far as I was concerned.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue @lavender-dinos @g0atmansbridge182

[tanoraqui]

now that this fic is all published, I can ramble about the things that happen afterward in the timeline! Feel SO free to ask about anything you want more details of.

First off, all three posts about Dave the Balrog are 100% canon to this au, except for where they sometimes contradict the fic's worldbuilding or plot bc I hadn't settled on every detail yet. Also, Dave’s name is probably more like “Drav”, from the Sindarin “drava-”, “to hew.”

That happens much later, though - about 1980 TA. FIRST, immediately, as Celebrimbor says: it's time to save the orcs!

That is, wildly self-indulgent crossover with @ceescedasticity's fic(verse) elves, once, which isn't 100% my headcanon for orcs but it's essentially canon for this au because it makes everything VERY FUNNY in a tragic irony way. I've thought about this so much that it really deserves its own bullet-point post, but highlights include:

- Annatar attempts to conceal the fact that Curufin and Celegorm are orcs, and, y'know, have been since they died. This works until Celebrimbor identifies a bunch of the orc army's weapons as made by his father, even if the style is strange and fell, and the two of the have a HUGE fight in front of representatives of every Elvish kingdom in Middle Earth and most of an army of orcs.

- Bellow/Turgon is having the single strangest, most uncomfortable road trip of his life, and he counts the crossing of the Helcaraxë in that total.

- Turgon tries to convince Galadriel to take Celebrían and Elrond and get out of here, because inevitably this must be a cruel trick and all the orcs will be forced to turn on all the Elves. Galadriel is like, "Honestly, I've been watching Celebrimbor's slow corruption and Sauron's slower un-corruption for about 2,000 years now, and I think we actually have a shot at this. Also, bold of you to assume you can beat me in a fight."

- Curufin and Celegorm had BOOKED IT when Annatar's summoning-compulsion snapped, on the reasonable assumption that any plan the Dark Lord had for them + Celebrimbor could only be cruel to the extreme...so Celebrimbor and Annatar go on a bonus road trip to retrieve them.

- Everyone meets up by the Sea again, but instead of taking (or, obeying) the offer of escape into Ulmo's hands, Turgon and probably a bunch of other orcs volunteer to come help break the Crucible. They Deserve This.

- In the end, as usual, the day is ultimately saved - as are the souls of thousands of trapped elves - by the power of love and overwhelming violence.

AND THEN...

Celebrimbor & Annatar don't actually rebuild Ost-in-Edhil and Eregion as they were. Those days are over, and also the surviving Númenoreans kinda...regard Annatar as Absolute Evil, for some mysterious reason. And those who knew about the whole or even partial conspiracy - namely Tar-Miriel herself - aren't too keen on Celebrimbor, either.

They leave whoever wants to stay and rebuild in Eregion, leadership tbd based on the traditional system of craft-based meritocracy, and take a few decades off to lay low from geopolitics, work on their marriage, and for Celebrimbor to learn a little bit of necromancy so he can manipulate his own fëa and hröa, thank you very much.

They stay with the Witch-Queen of Calador for a while, discreetly because officially that kingdom is also not on good terms with its “former” evil-ish overlord. (The Witch-Queen of Calador and her not really sane, almost certainly unsafe, but arguably consensual relationship with Annatar really deserves her own post, too. She’s my favorite OC of this au. She really loves bats.)

Elrond & Celebrían get married! Elrond always knew his wedding would have to involve stopping drunken brawls from erupting between people who love him but hate each other, but he’d assumed it’d be Iathrim and Fëanorians, not an elderly Queen Miriel going for Annatar’s eyes with a butter knife.

Annatar regards the birth of Elrohir and Elladan with some concern, this alarming lineage now augmented by the blood of Arafinwë (cut off Melkor’s foot) and Galadriel (Melian’s pupil, hates him). But that’s nothing to how freaked out he is by Arwen, who is such an obvious Reprise of Lúthien that it’s now CLEAR that this was all a Melian scheme to assault him, personally.

He can’t just kill her now—Elrond and Galadriel and both right here, not to mention Celebrimbor. And then she’d absolutely be his enemy when she Returned… No, the only solution is to stay in Imladris for a while and become her most beloved uncle whom she would not dream of assaulting, whom she could not bring herself to injure even if circumstance and conscience forced her hand. Love has ever been the undoing of Melian’s line. The Reprise is obvious, but not so established that he cannot twist it into irony, Lúthien’s heir as his devoted student and companion rather than foe.

[smash cut to late 3rd Age Annatar watching the Music settle into place as Arwen interacts with the newest, currently toddling scion of the House of Elendil and nearly killing the child right then because no, no, thats not how this was supposed to Reprise—that’s his jewel of an elf-queen, Singer and trade-manipulator and niece, and he’s going to lose her forever? Killing the brat won’t even work, that would only make her follow him sooner, one way or another—]

Celebrimbor doesn’t want to build a city (and have his heart broken by the loss of the city) again, but he very much does want to ImproveThe World, and also to Make Things With His Hands. So he and Annatar, and whoever of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain wish to join them, set about… “Traveling” is too loose a term; just because they’re not city-building doesn’t mean anyone here wants to live on the road. They need workshops, forges, and ideally a maia-sized cat tree tall tower from which to survey their domain. They are a highly skilled work crew/technical, artistic & management consultants who change cities every 5-200 years, throughout Middle Earth and perhaps even other continents.

This what Celebrimbor and Annatar do, for most of the rest of their time in Middle Earth. A few of the Mírdain travel with them all the time. Others strike out on their own, or in similar small groups. Others stay in rebuilt Ost-in-Edhil, or Rivendell or the Havens or another Elvish kingdom, and come lend a hand when their particular talents are called for. Everyone who “died” in Númenor and was “resuscitated” by Annatar walked away with a strengthened, basically permanent osanwë connection to the simulated workshop group chat, which they’re aware of, and a location tracker and fëa-stamp saying “PROPERTY OF MAIRON, FUCK AROUND AND YOU WILL FIND OUT” which only an Ainu could detect.

They're the mysterious stranger(s) who accept an offer of hospitality on a stormy night and reward you with a magic ring that blesses your farm with fecundity. They arrive in a city in the middle of a cholera outbreak and inform the local rulers that they're here to overhaul the whole wells & sewers system in exchange for room and board; no, the local rulers do not get a choice in this. One time they do oust an evil ruling dynasty and just kinda take over the kingdom for a few centuries, but then Celebrimbor starts to get paranoid of his own growing attachment so Annatar reluctantly agrees to find and raise some honorable candidate for kingship [gender-neutral]. One of the Mírdain with them says, what about the choice of the people? And then after a lot of discussion, partly in collaboration with their local Men, they write up and seal with Power a Constitution that establishes an oversight body of political, economic, craft and etc. experts to oversee and have veto power over popular elections to kingship from a slate of candidates chosen by the current/soon-to-be previous king, on a strict thirty-year schedule. There, that should stabilize the whole messy business of mortal succession!

Also, 1300 years or so into the Third Age when this version of Gondor hits its equivalent of the Kin-Strife, Annatar takes advantage of its weakness to initiate a plan he's been contemplating for a while, especially while gaining local insight into a variety of nation-states and their management, and returns to Oroduin to forge what may he his last Great Work...a new standard of currency.

It’s called, in the common tongue developing from Adúnaic and Sindarin, the “mira”, pl. “miran”, from Quenya “mírë” (“jewel, precious thing). Where pettier currencies are based in gold or silver or the might of some particular empire, these hold value Because a Great Maia Said So—indeed, Sang So, Sang a new line into the Great Music that these coins would always have a value of…whatever he said so, if he updated a petty lyric or two of their Song. Those who use the coins don’t need to know this; they simply intuit, with coins in hand, what they are worth.

(You can lead even the mightiest empire by the nose if you control the price of grain alone, much less other commodities, or one currency relative to another. Each minute adjustment takes Power, especially to shift the natural balance of multiple interlocking goods…but Annatar is a master of the perfectly placed lever with which to shift the world.)

Maybe at some point the Valar are like, “okay, I think they don’t irrationally hate us anymore, I think this could work” and send a small group of Maiar to openly, humbly approach Annatar and Celebrimbor and ask if they might be apprentices in the craft of…whatever the fuck is happening here. Or maybe something adjacent, because Pallandro and Alatar would really like to fuck off into those excellent looking woods and hunt the remnants of Ungoliant’s spawn, and Radagast actually wandered away 5 minutes ago to talk to a bird. He’s gonna be a while. But Curumo and Olórin are listening politely!

…Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just the Jewelsmiths, slowly becoming folklore, bettering the world (and manipulating wide-scale economics) one stone at a time. (They’d still be the “Jewelsmiths” anyway, even if they included those who, in another universe, were called “The Wise.”)

As stated in the third Dave the Balrog post, they do Sail eventually, several centuries after Arwen’s death. Celebrimbor just gets tired, and Annatar can’t fix it. Ossë spends the whole voyage backstroking next to their ship and sarcastically quoting Annatar back at himself, Years of the Trees insults about being made weak and pathetic by love, until Annatar nearly lunges over the side as a wolf to tear his throat out.

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

You reunite with the Autobots and decide to become an official member of their team.

Warnings: none, except Ratchet being the angry worried grandpa.

Chapter 20 (Final)

-------------------------------------------

After calling in the Autobots and asking for a ground bridge, you drove through the vortex and arrived at the welcoming sight of the bots and the kids. You stopped to let Emily out before transforming and removing the face plate. The kids ran down the steps to greet her. “Emily!” Miko and Raf hugged her, making her smile and hug them back. 

“Hey! Kids! I wasn’t gone for that long, was I?” Emily asked. 

“It’s really good to see you okay. We were dead worried about you,” Jack said. “The cons didn’t hurt you did they?” he asked. 

“Nah. I was hiding most of the time. I only got a couple of bruises from falling from high places but nothing serious,” Emily assured. 

Ratchet then stepped toward you and grabbed your shoulders. “What were you thinking?! Following the cons to their ship on your own! You are lucky to have come back at all!” he shook you, startling you. 

“Do you have any idea what they would have done to you if you got caught?!” he yelled at your face. 

You recovered from the sudden shaking and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Ratchet. I wasn’t really thinking when I followed the cons, but I don’t regret doing it. I couldn't just stand there and let the cons take her, especially when it was Airachnid who took her. It’s a good thing I did because she intended to do something horrible to Emily,” you explained calmly. 

“Yeah, she wanted to dissect me and put me in a tube,” Emily backed you. 

“So… considering that. It was a good thing that I followed them. She wouldn’t most likely be here if I didn’t,” you added. 

Optimus placed his hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “Seeing them both return safely. I believe this is the best outcome we could have hoped for. (Name) had a reasonable cause to follow the Decepticons and now she had managed to return Emily and herself with no severe harm done to them,” he said. 

Ratchet relaxed under his words. “Very well. It’s good to see you both back,” Ratchet patted your shoulder. “But do not think you will be leaving the base anytime soon,” he said with a serious tone before releasing your shoulders from his death-like grip. 

You smiled. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you said as he returned to the main computer. 

“If I can ask, how did you escape the Nemesis?” Arcee asked. 

“It…. “ You tried to think how to explain it. “It was in the heat of a moment. When Em was captured again, I caused a diversion with the drills, shocked their medic unconscious with the shock rod thing, and then hid Emily in my chest, and then I used their ground bridge console to bridge us to a random location,” you explained. 

“Oh, don’t forget how you used the Holly to make them follow the hologram you into a different location before trapping them there and then using the ground bridge yourself,” Emily added. 

“Yeah… the Vehicons were a bit close so I used the first ground bridge to make them follow my hologram before closing the bridge and then using a different bridge to bridge myself out of there,” you explained. “I managed to blend in with the walls, so they didn’t notice the real me,” you added. 

“You got the Holly to work more accurately?” Raf asked. 

“Yeah. The ship was full of vehicons with a similar face. It was an opportunity I took,” you replied. 

“Show me,” he said. 

You activated the Holly. The device then created a perfect replicate of you standing next to you. You waved your hand and it followed your motion. 

“Woah!” the kids said in marvel before you turned off the Holly, making the hologram disappear. 

“That’s so cool. You were like twins,” Miko remarked. 

“Yeah. However, I do not think the cons will fall for that the second time if we ever meet again,” you crossed your arms. “They might also be aware of my existence now,” you added. 

“Taken the circumstances it might have been inevitable. However, you should be safe as long as you decide to stay in the base,” Optimus said. 

“I think I will be staying at the base for now. That was way too much excitement for my taste,” you stated. 

“Well, it was not a useless trip. While I was hiding in the vents, I decided to take the chance to do some recon and managed to capture a lot of pictures of Nemesis” Emily said as she took out the memory card from her camera. She then handed the card to Raf who then inserted it into the slot in his computer. His computer then connected to the main monitor, showing pictures of different parts of the Decepticon warship. “From those pictures, we could construct a map of the Nemesis, so we know where to go in case we have to make another visit for some other purpose,” she explained. 

Then came the picture with you and the datapad you asked her to take. 

“Oh, there was this picture (Name) asked to take. The content of that datapad seemed important so I took a few,” Emily explained. 

“Those are locations of energon mines,” Ratchet explained as he zoomed in. “A few of those are active while some of them are unconfirmed energon veins,” he added.

“Seems like you were on the right track (Name),” Emily smiled toward you. 

“Well, It seemed important because I read ‘mine’ and ‘energon.’” you explained. 

“This could actually work out in our favor taking our depleting energon supply,” Ratchet said with genuine surprise. 

Bulkhead laughed. “Seems like (Name) hit a jackpot for us!” he said, giving you a rough pat on the back. You smiled, slightly flustered. 

You then remembered what Steve said about dark energon and the prophecy that was supposedly occurring soon. 

“That’s not all. “ You started. “When I blend in among the vehicons. I came across something that mentioned dark energon, and when I asked about it, they told me about this prophecy that said something about Unicron and his awakening. Do you know something about that Optimus?” you asked. 

Optimus was quiet at first, thinking what you said. 

“Like who is Unicron? I recall hearing that name before,” you asked. 

“Unicron is the opposite deity compared to Primus. He is the harbinger of chaos and destruction while Primus is the giver of life. He was defeated by the thirteen original primes and cast out from Cybertron,” Optimus explained. 

“So, he’s like… your version of a satan?” you asked. 

“Correct. And the prophecy you mention tells about the planetary alignment though how it involves Unicron and his awakening I do not know,” Optimus said. 

“Should we be concerned about that?” you asked. 

“Perhaps in time, the prophecy will become clearer. For now, let us rejoice in your and Emily’s safe return,” he said. 

You nodded. 

Bumblebee beeped, saying something you didn’t understand. 

“Bee’s right. You have a lot of guts and brought back more to us than yourself and Emily,” Bulkhead said. 

“You know you have what it takes to be an Autobot,” Arcee added. 

“About that… “ you said and they looked at you. “I thought about it and… I would like to join you guys officially,” you said. 

“Really?” Bulkhead asked. 

“Yeah. I mean the Decepticons are an active threat and Earth is my home. I can’t stand idly by if they threaten the people I care about. So, I would like to contribute even just a little. I’m also not good at doing nothing when there’s something I can do,” You explained. “So… would it be alright for you guys if I became a member of your team?” you asked. 

“Absolutely!” Bulkhead slapped your shoulder enthusiastically. 

Bee whirled something but it sounded approving. 

“Fine by me. We could use an extra hand,” Arcee said with a rare smile. 

You then looked toward Optimus. “Is this truly what you wish?” he asked. 

“Yes, Optimus,” you nodded. 

“Then we would be honored to have you (Name),” he smiled. 

“Awesome!” Miko yelled. “But now, we need to do you a complete makeover. Time to give up the vehicon look,” she said. 

You glanced at Emily and you two shrugged with a smile. 

With a few tips from the bots, you left the base with Emily and Miko to scan yourself a new vehicle mode. It took a while but you found a car model you preferred and scanned yourself a new paint job in colors you liked. There were still some similarities you shared with the vehicons, but now you were designed in your own image. With the Autobot symbol on your chest, you glanced at Emily and Miko who gave you thumbs up for your new look. You then transformed, allowing them to step in, and drove back to base, officially starting your new life as an Autobot. 

[anxiousthoughts365]

Hiding

CW: language, angst

'You're such a twat.'

Sirius lifted his fuzzy head from his shaking hands to find Regulus standing beside the library table he'd been camped out at for the past 16 hours. His younger brother's back was ram-rod straight, his face paler than usual with his anger. Sirius, tired and distraught, had to fight against the urge to flinch away from the other boy's near tangible disapproval.

'Nice shiner, by the way,' Regulus added, no hint of amusement in his tone as he appraised the purple swelling around Sirius' eye. It had only stopped throbbing about an hour ago, but Sirius had been purposefully pressing at it, trying to feel some of his internal pain in a more physical way. It hadn't been helping.

'What do you want, Reg?' Gods, even his voice sounded ruined. Probably from having cried for so long ...

'I want you to acknowledge, once and for all, that you're a complete and utter twat,' Regulus drawled, raising one eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

'What for this time?' Sirius sighed, scrubbing at his good eye. He really wasn't in the mood for this, but his relationship with Regulus was just beginning to heal, and they had both been making a concerted effort to be on their best behaviour with each other recently. He had to forcefully remind himself of that when Regulus scoffed.

'Fair question. This time, it's for what you did to Lupin.' Sirius' head snapped up so fast that he heard his neck crack. His eyes were almost painfully wide as he gaped at Regulus, who continued as though nothing had changed. 'It's one thing to abandon your family, Sirius. It's another thing entirely to actively endanger two students. One of whom has spent literal years of his life doing his utmost to avoid anyone finding out about his ... Monthly problem.'

Sirius' mind was whirling so fast with the revelations pouring out of his brother that all he could think to say was, 'You know?!'

'Of course I fucking know,' Regulus spat, his eyes - so like Sirius' own in so many way - narrowing to sharp slits. 'It doesn't take a genius to put these things together. The scarring, the fatigue and limping after the full moons, the way he looks ready to eat anyone who so much as breathes near him in the days leading up to it ...'

Despite himself, Sirius felt his heart-rate quicken, panic swamping him as he turned the words over in his head. Regulus knew. He knew about Moony, had been able to work it out. It was another risk to Remus, and Sirius couldn't stop his mind from spiralling as he assessed the danger, as he wondered what he could offer his brother to make him keep the secret. But Regulus huffed and rolled his eyes before Sirius could even speak.

'Luckily, most of the students in this place are too stupid or too self-absorbed to look into these things.' Sirius swallowed his rising bile and stared at his brother, waiting for him to go on. Regulus was frowning again as he growled, 'Calm down, I'd have nothing to gain from exposing him. Besides, it takes a pretty shitty person to betray a secret like that. Especially if it's one of your best friends' secrets.'

Sirius tried to pretend that the words weren't an icy dagger through his heart as he stuttered, 'But how ... How did you -'

'People can be quite careless with what they'll share when they think they have nothing left to lose,' Regulus murmured, his face shifting into mild disgust and annoyance as he slipped into the chair opposite Sirius'. 'I stumbled across him in the Astrology Tower last night on my Prefect's rounds, and he spilled the whole story. You're all just very lucky that it was me who ran into him at the right time.'

'I really fucked up, Reg,' Sirius muttered, looking down at his hands. The skin around his nails was cracked, dried blood crusting along the cuticles from where he'd been relentlessly picking at them.

'I would say that is a vast understatement,' Regulus sniffed. 'But I didn't just come here to tell you how pathetic and worthless you are. Seems you're already doing a good enough job of that yourself. I actually came to tell you that you should apologise to him.'

'I already tried,' Sirius grumbled, indicating his bruised face. He thought he saw Regulus bite back against a laugh, but decided to let it go. He deserved much worse than his kid brother laughing at him right now.

'Well, then you try again,' Regulus said. 'And you keep on trying, until the day that he's ready to hear it. And you do that, Sirius, because if you don't, you are going to lose yourself in all of that lovely fear and self-loathing that Mother so kindly instilled in us from an early age, and you will ruin not only yourself but everything around you. Lupin included.'

Sirius blinked, trying to wade through what Regulus was saying. Was his brother trying to be ... Nice??

'Why are you telling me this?' he asked, trying and failing to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

'Because despite what you may think, Lupin and I actually have quite a lot of things in common. And one of those things is that we both still care about you, against all evidence that it's not advisable for our wellbeing.'

The mixture of grief and hope and guilt and shame was so hopelessly tangled inside him that all Sirius could do was burst into tears. If what Regulus was saying was true, then some part of Remus still cared about him, even after the awful thing that he'd done. That meant that there could still be a chance at fixing this, at righting the pain he had caused Remus. But he knew that even if he did somehow make this right, he would still have to carry it with him for the rest of his days.

The weight of those emotions were so all-encompassing that it was a while before Sirius felt something tapping lightly at his shoulder. When he felt able to, he wiped away his tears and looked up to find that Regulus, looking deeply uncomfortable, was awkwardly patting at him, seemingly in an attempt to comfort him. The gesture was nearly enough to set him off again.

'He hates me,' Sirius breathed instead, trying to focus on one area of progress at a time.

'As he should, considering what you did,' Regulus sniped, retracting his hand and leveling his solumn gaze at Sirius. 'But that doesn't meant that he won't forgive you, one day. Not now, not tomorrow, maybe not for months. But if you give up, Sirius, he'll never understand that what you did has hurt you almost as much as it has hurt him. And if you never let him see that, then you will truly lose him forever.'

'When did you become such an expert on these things?' Sirius sniffled, reluctant to admit that what his younger brother had said was incredibly logical and also surprisingly motivating. He was suprised when the other boy's mouth flicked up momentarily in a barely-there smile as he leaned across the table towards him.

'I read,' Regulus whispered conspiratorially, almost making Sirius laugh. Almost. Then the uncharacteristic mirth was gone, and Regulus was standing, smoothing his crease-free robes. He turned away, but paused to add, 'Oh, and by the way, you can tell Potter that he can back off now.'

'You've talked to James?' Sirius breathed, his ribs aching as though someone were trying to force them apart, to split him open. Although being ignored by Remus was soul-crushing, it was still a close contest as to whether it was his silence or James' that was hurting Sirius the most.

'He has been talking at me,' Regulus clarified, then suddenly adopted a strangely lax posture, his face taking on an artificial optimism and sincerity, and Sirius blinked at the uncanny likeness of James as his brother burbled, 'I can't talk to him, because he royally fucked up, but I can't let him spiral, so you have to catch him for me.' Regulus shook his head, and immediately he was his cold, calculated self again as he stalked away, shooting back over his shoulder, 'I don't care how you do it, but he is to be informed that he has been returned to my list of people who do not exist. Consider it payment for my sage advice.'

And then Regulus was gone, sweeping away without a trace left that would indicate that he'd ever actually been there. But the things he'd said, the way he'd pulled together the floundering parts of Sirius' mind and given him a clear path out of all of this? There was no way that Sirius would ever be able to forget what his brother had done for him.

Wiping his face on his sleeve, he sighed heavily, then reached for a roll of parchment, and began to write down everything he had never said to Remus, but had always meant to, in the hopes that something might come up that he'd be able to use to explain what he'd done.

He got a little lost when the first thing that came out of his quill was, I love you.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

2 Minus 1 - Act Three

Seungcheol is doing good without you. Really good, in fact! He’s got a great job, has his own apartment, and has many friends surrounding him. He’s even done some dating in the three years that you’ve been gone. On some blissful days, you don’t even cross his mind. But when you reappear in his life, he has to come to terms with the fact that he might not be doing as good as he thought he was. 

Genres: ANGST with a little bit of fluff here and there. One suggestive scene (minors, use caution). 

Word count: 7.7k

Requested? Yes!

You can find the series masterlist here.

Minghao’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party. Seungcheol seemed to have found out last because it’s you that asks him if he’s going when you both step out for lunch a couple days before. Instead of going back to his office, he stops into his team’s office, hanging over Minghao’s cubicle wall. “When were you going to tell me you were throwing a New Year’s Eve party? Is this your way of telling me I’m not invited?”

“Huh?” Minghao mumbles, still typing up something. “Oh, yeah. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. Didn’t get a chance to send a message about it yet.” Seungcheol sort of accepts this answer because things have been pretty busy around here in preparation for the new year. New budget means new plans and new goals, along with a renewed push from leadership to break records. There’s been a lot of pressure to start out the year on the right foot. 

Still, Seungcheol pouts a bit. “And Y/N knew before I did?”

“Oh, yeah. I ran into her in the elevator yesterday and mentioned it. Stop being a big baby,” Minghao says, totally unsympathetic. 

“Y/N is coming?” Chan pipes up from his cubicle, sounding excited. He rolls his chair into the aisle, running into Seungkwan when he does the same thing. They both groan and start pushing each other. The rest of them ignore the scuffle.

“Yes,” Minghao says shortly, turning to Seungcheol. “I assume you’ll be there since you’re attached to her hip.”

He doesn’t miss the sly look that all four of his friends give him at the mention. “Not sure what that’s supposed to mean. I thought you wanted me to get along with her.”

“As just a friend?” Vernon poses. 

Seungcheol stalls out for a second, blinking. “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s a good thing, I guess. She asked if I minded if she brings a friend of hers. Someone from law school, or something. He’s in town for the holidays,” Minghao explains and Seungcheol can see clear as day that this is bait. Still, he can’t seem to help how his jaw clenches. 

“Did she happen to mention his name?”

“Jeonghan, something or other. It’s a law school friend, you wouldn’t know him right?” 

He knows they’re continuing to bait him. She’s a friend and this is a person he doesn’t know, so what’s the big deal? Seungcheol can’t help the curse he mutters. “No, I know Jeonghan. He’s from here, we went to school with him. And they dated while they were in California, apparently.”

An ‘oooo’ echoes throughout the office, then a cackle or two. They all look like they need bags of popcorn with how entertained they look at his suffering. “Oh no,” Seungkwan cries out in faux sympathy. “Cheol, what are you going to do? Her exboyfriend came all the way here to see her.”

“He didn’t come here just to see her,” Seungcheol defends, fists tightening on the wall of Minghao’s cubicle. “I just said he’s from here. He’s here to see family first, surely.”

“And run to see his ex before he goes back home? Maybe get a New Year’s Kiss from her?” Chan wiggles an eyebrow. The thought makes Seungcheol’s blood boil. He’d intentionally avoided spending much time thinking about you with Jeonghan. He knew you had kind of made the poor guy’s dreams come true by dating him. 

“Oh my god, look how red he’s getting,” Seungkwan chortles. 

Minghao turns to give them a warning look, though he sort of looks entertained too. He glances back to Seungcheol. “Don't pop a vein. You look pretty jealous for someone that fell apart when he found out she worked here.”

“I’m not jealous,” he insists stubbornly. Not a single one of them buy it and he huffs. “Get back to work. We have things due at the end of the day.”

He is not jealous. He is not jealous. He is not jealous! It becomes his mantra the whole afternoon as he tries to get through his to-do list.

~

He is not jealous. He is not jealous. He is not jealous!

He chants it to himself in his head when he knocks on your door. Jeonghan opens the door with a wide grin. “Hey, Seungcheol. It’s been a while,” he says letting him in. Seungcheol had always liked Jeonghan in high school. He was funny, a little bit of a troublemaker, but also seemed to be incredibly intelligent, judging by how he was always in the running for top of the class. He tries to be warm, but Jeonghan looks far too comfortable in your apartment. He wonders if Jeonghan stayed here for a couple days while in town. He wonders where he slept - was it the guest bedroom or somewhere else?

“Yeah, it has. How have you been?” He sits with Jeonghan in the living room, doing small talk. They’re interrupted by a yell from the hallway. 

“Hannie, who are you talking to?” 

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan shouts back. 

“Oh!” You shout. “Hi Cheol. I promise I’m almost ready.”

“Yeah right,” Jeonghan mumbles. “I’ve never seen her be ready on time.”

This does make Seungcheol snort. “Never.”

Jeonghan gives him a curious look. “How are things going there? Between you two, I mean. She was pretty anxious about running into you.”

The question gives Seungcheol pause for so many reasons. So many, in fact that it makes him shake his head confused. “You want to hear how things are going with your ex?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, entertained. “Yes. Do you want to hear how things are going with your ex?” That question makes him grit his teeth and Jeonghan spots it, chuckling. “Yeah, that tracks. But yes, I want to know that things are going well between you two, no matter what it’s defined as.”

Seungcheol’s jaw is tight. “We’re fine. We always will be.”

He hates how Jeonghan leans back, feet propped up on your coffee table, sipping his drink like he owns the place. Like he has Seungcheol right where he wants him. “Uh huh. So no plans to rekindle anything then? Just going back to friends?” 

“Yes,” Seungcheol grinds out. “Have you always been this nosy?”

Jeonghan laughs. “Maybe not, but I’m invested when it comes to Y/N. The consequences of dating for a few years, I suppose.”

Seungcheol’s breath catches. When you said you had dated Jeonghan for a while, he was picturing a few months, not years. He doesn’t know why you didn’t just tell him the actual timeframe, but then he thinks better of it. If he’s not handling it well now, then he wouldn’t have handled it well a while back either.

Finally, Seungcheol decides he sort of hates Jeonghan - not him as a person necessarily, but because you sort of made a home with him in California for three years. Enough for Jeonghan to come see you when he’s in town. He wishes there was even a tinge of bitterness between you and Jeonghan post breakup.

“So, what? You've come to visit and get back together?” He can’t really hide his own bitterness. “How’s that going to work when you both live across the world from each other?”

Jeonghan shrugs casually. “Distance wouldn't be an issue for me personally, but I’m actually looking for jobs here.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply because he’s spiraling a bit and you’re rushing into the room, dressed to the nines and it’s all so distracting. “I’m ready! Let’s go!” You yell, shoving your feet in heels and grabbing a coat while Seungcheol and Jeonghan trail behind you. You chatter enough for everyone on the way to Minghao’s and when he leads you both into his friend’s apartment, he goes straight to the alcohol. He feels sick to his stomach before the first sip, but he needs the distraction from thinking about Jeonghan moving back and moving in with you next door and having to see you two together all the time. 

He’d have to move and probably quit his job. And maybe leave the face of the earth.

~

Jeonghan knows quite a few people here tonight, but he still stays glued to you. It’s nice, really. You’ve settled in and have gotten comfortable with the way things are since moving back, but Jeonghan is an extra slice of familiarity that comforts you, if only for a couple days before he has to fly back. 

It’s not like you two haven’t talked nearly every week since you moved, but there are so many things that you both seem to want to talk about now that you’re face to face. You missed him, and you missed Joshua, who you can get decent updates on now that Jeonghan is in front of you. Joshua has scheduled to take the bar exam and has been studying night and day, ignoring pretty much everyone since graduation. Jeonghan says he pops in every few days to get him to come up for air. 

You’ve told him about your job, which you feel pretty neutral about it. Like Seungcheol, Jeonghan assures you that it’s okay to just have a job now and not a career, and that the degree wasn’t wasted if you don’t take the bar and practice law. He even discourages it because even though he hasn’t hit the books as hard as Joshua has, he says it’s still miserable.

He’s also incredibly nosy about how things are going with Seungcheol. When you told him about your first run in and subsequent birthday parties, he’d chuckled and told you it was only a matter of time. You can’t share mutual friends for your whole lives and never see each other. But he flat out cackled when you told him that you’d unknowingly accepted a job at the same company that he worked for. Jeonghan reveals that he knew that all along and you wished you could strangle him through the screen. You even threaten to get on a plane to do it in person. He just rolled his eyes and said, “What? You don’t check LinkedIn from time to time? I knew the company you accepted the role from sounded familiar so I checked.” He was still more entertained when you told him who your new neighbor was and made some joke about fate.

In the present, Jeonghan’s grinning over his glass at you in the corner of the room. “Someone hates me, I think. I’m getting a death glare.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like it’s hard to hate you?” He shoves you lightly. “But who?”

Jeonghan snorts. “Who do you think? The most jealous person I think I’ve ever met.” He gestures across the room and it’s not hard to figure out who he’s talking about. Seungcheol looks pissed, but you’re confused because for the life of you you can’t figure out why he’d be pissed at you or Jeonghan. You thought things were good between you and Seungcheol now, especially after he said he didn’t hate you on Christmas just a week ago. He really looks like that could have been a lie right now.

“But why? He’s not entertained anything more than friendship, and even then that was like pulling teeth at first,” you sigh, looking down into your glass.

Jeonghan sighs lovingly. “Oh, honey. I love you so much, you know that, right?” You nod when it seems he actually wants an answer. “But sometimes, you’re incredibly dense. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

Your eyes widen, hair standing on end. This doesn’t sound like a ‘spilled coffee on your laptop but here take mine’ kind of fix. The look on his face makes you nervous. “What are you planning, Yoon Jeonghan?”

He looks mildly entertained at your threatening tone before turning serious. “Do you trust me?” You stare up at him, blinking. “I need an answer to that. I can fix this but it might get worse before it gets better.”

“Define ‘fix’. And what are you fixing exactly?” You press.

“You and Seungcheol. It’s time to do something about this, but my methods might be unorthodox and you need to roll with it if it will work.”

Jeonghan has never led you astray and you do trust him implicitly. You glance to Seungcheol, who still looks angry, before looking back up at Jeonghan, huffing. “What did you have in mind?”

Minghao is coming around with flutes of champagne. The ball drop is queued up on the TV with the countdown ticking. You both take glasses from Minghao, setting your other ones to the side. “I promise it will be okay,” Jeonghan says evasively. It makes your anxiety spike.

“Hannie, please tell me what you’re planning.”

People are starting to countdown and he has to lean in close to your ear so you can hear him. “I’m going to help you make him jealous.”

You blanch, pulling away from him to give him a look. “What?!”

He’s pulling you back to him, hand now on the small of your back. “Just trust me. He’s holding back right now, but once all of that anger comes out I think he’ll be more upfront about his feelings. Namely that he’s not over you. You want that, don’t you?”

You think fast in seconds. You don’t like the pressure of the countdown. You do want to rekindle things with Seungcheol if he’d ever let you. You’d never really wanted it to end in the first place but it seemed inevitable at the time. And now he’s been a lock box for pretty much everything that isn’t professional as coworkers or casual as friends. He treats you like he wasn’t your best friend for years and it stings. He treats you like he wasn’t totally in love with you while dating, just as you were with him, and that stings even more. You want him back. 

The countdown has hit ten and you lean in to Jeonghan’s ear. “You’re sure this will work? How sure?”

“99% sure.”

“Okay, then. Don’t make me hate you.”

Jeonghan chuckles and his lips are on yours when the ball drops. 

~

It becomes apparent at approximately 11am on January 2nd that you should have doubted Jeonghan’s little plan. You have a meeting with Seungcheol's department to wrap up the contract revisions and Mrs. Jang and Seokmin have let you take the lead on it. It becomes clear within the first five minutes of the meeting that you’ve done something wrong.

Or everything wrong, really.

Seungcheol is cold, even flat out rude to you as you present the revisions, explaining the logic behind some of the changes. Nothing is good enough and he’s brutal about correcting your work in front of everyone. Minghao tries to delicately step in and get you back on track on some of the things you’ve done, but if he disagrees with the things he doesn’t speak up on, he doesn’t say so. Everyone’s uncomfortable and you close out the meeting as smoothly as possible, letting them know that you’ll make the revisions they mentioned and send out an updated version later today for review. 

In the elevator, Mrs. Jang kindly says that you did well and you’ll get better with those little things with time. You’re thankful that she’s not disappointed or upset with some of the mistakes you’ve made, and that she’s giving you grace to fix it. But still, you’re itching to go somewhere and cry because Seungcheol’s never treated you like that.

Seokmin seems to sense it because he’s handing you your coat as soon as you get back into your shared office. “Let’s go for a long lunch.” He doesn’t really leave room for an argument, and even threatens to go into the women’s restroom to get you if you take too long on your way out of the building. He promises he'll close the office door later this afternoon if you still wanted to cry.

At the restraurant down the street, he orders food before sitting back and sighing. “That was rough. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty fucking fragile,” you bite, trying to blink back your tears. You do not want to cry in this restaurant right now. You’re almost angry at how emotional of a reaction you’re having.

Seokmin looks sympathetic. “I’ll say. That must be the ‘unpleasantness’ some people alluded to before. What even prompted that? I thought things were going well there.”

You put your head in your hands, sighing. “My stupidity prompted it.” 

“What? What could you have possibly done to deserve that?” Seokmin cries out. You explain everything - Jeonghan, and your relationship back in California, and his bright idea on New Year’s. Seokmin hums, nodding his head with a deep sigh. “Okay, yeah. That might have been stupid.”

You groan, interrupted by the waiter bringing you and Seokmin your food. “It made sense at the time. And it’s not like Jeonghan doesn’t know Seungcheol. They might not have been super close, but Jeonghan’s usually pretty good at reading people and I trusted his assumption.”

“Eat,” Seokmin nudges, handing you chopsticks. “And his assumption was what? That Seungcheol would snap and confess his feelings?”

“Something like that,” you answer weakly. “Seems like it backfired. Yet another thing I’ve ruined.”

“Nuh uh,” Seokmin says automatically, waving his chopsticks at you. “Stop saying you ruin things. Ruining implies you can’t fix it.”

“And you think I can fix this? This felt pretty far gone before I made this most recent bad decision.”

Seokmin’s insistent though. “Going to law school abroad wasn’t a bad decision. Did it hurt? Probably. But stop acting like doing something for yourself ruins everything.” He pops a bite of chicken into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “Besides, I’m not doubting your trust in Jeonghan’s theory. Some people respond to jealousy… It just seems like it will get worse before it ever gets better.”

You play with your food, moving it around on the plate. “Yeah, Jeonghan said something like that. I just expected some silent treatment or something. Not to be berated in a work meeting.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s hearing about that as we speak.” You give Seokmin a look and he chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “His team loves you. They did not look happy about his behavior. Not sure it will change anything, but this does seem like a problem between you and Seungcheol, rather than a problem with your work itself. I’ve made the same mistakes you did.”

You groan. “And to think he’s my neighbor. I can’t even escape it at home.”

Seokmin’s choking on his food. “He’s your neighbor?!” 

“Oh,” you start. “Yeah, did I forget to mention that?”

When he’s no longer choking, he shakes his head. “That’s it, you’re paying this time. I know it was my turn and I was going to be nice because you’ve had a rough morning, but you better have your wallet ready because I’m ordering egg rolls to go.”

You get scolded all afternoon about keeping secrets from your only favorite office mate.

~

Seungcheol huffs from behind his monitor. He’s sent a message in the team group chat and it’s starting to look like he’s talking to himself as he scrolls through the recent chat history. He sends something, be it a task or a request for a status update, and he gets the shortest responses possible. Usually a thumbs up emoji, but sometimes a short answer if an explanation is required. Sometimes, it’s nothing at all. They’re doing the work, but it’s clear they’re mad. They have been since earlier this week. 

Seungcheol isn’t proud of himself for how he handled that meeting with you earlier this week. He didn’t stick around afterwards because he could tell his team was disappointed. But they usually aren’t shy about telling him their problems, even with him. The silence is deafening and he knows he’s fucked up.

Minghao comes in to drop off a stack of papers and looks like he’s trying to exit quickly, but Seungcheol stops him. “What’s this?” 

Minghao spins in the doorway. “Financials for last quarter. I need your signature on it before I can ship it off to Budgets.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol mumbles. “I’ll just do it right now.” He grabs a pen and starts skimming, but Minghao cuts him off.

“Actually, do it later. I’m not ready to be berated for my work right now.”

Seungcheol pauses and purses his lips, placing the report and the pen back down. “Why would I do that? Your work is usually flawless. That’s why you’re the team lead.”

“I don’t know,” Minghao drawls coldly. “You can be pretty brutal it seems.” 

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek. “Is that why you guys have been dodging me all week?” To his credit, Minghao doesn’t deny it and that’s answer enough. Seungcheol sighs. “Was it that bad?”

“Bad? I’m sure she ran off to cry after the meeting. I think even I would have had an emotional reaction,” Minghao says bluntly. The knife twists in Seungcheol’s chest. He was so angry, and still is, that he hadn’t been thinking about your reaction. Minghao’s sighing, coming back in to sit down. “I thought you could be civil. What the hell happened to that?”

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol mumbles. He certainly does know, but he’s not brave enough to say it, lest he piss off his friends even more.

Still, Minghao scoffs. “Look. I saw her and Jeonghan on New Year’s. It really is okay if you just admit that you’re jealous. I’d even sympathize with you on it. You bottling things up is 90% of the problem here.”

Stubbornly, Seungcheol shakes his head. He doesn’t know why the word ‘jealous’ made him flip a switch so fast, but he’s back to being angry. “I’m not jealous. I did what you said and I tried to salvage some sort of friendship, but it’s hard to watch your ex with someone else. That’s not jealousy though. That’s me trying to accept the fact that things are different.”

“And your acceptance of these changes means ripping her apart in a professional setting?” Seungcheol doesn’t really have a response. No matter how he felt in the moment, he was embarrassed that he acted so unprofessionally. Minghao shakes his head. “I told you up front, you should just tell her you’re angry. Admit it and you’ll feel a lot lighter.”

“Why would she want to hear about that? I mean, who knows what’s going on with her and Jeonghan? He said he’s looking for jobs here.”

“And none of that might matter if you just admit how you feel,” Minghao insists. Seungcheol’s phone rings and Minghao stands up. “Take it. I’ve said all I can say now.”

~

It’s Saturday morning and your phone has gone off no less than ten times since 8am. You know who it is but you’ve been letting it ring. But after you’re ripped from sleep for the eleventh time, you’re starting to lose patience. You switch off the sound, turning on vibration. But the buzzing across your nightstand is just as obnoxious and by the thirteenth call, you’re snatching up your phone. “What?” You snap.

“Oh, so you aren’t dead!” Jeonghan cheers. 

“Nope, not dead. Just mad,” you bite, burying yourself back into the covers. 

“Uh huh, I kind of figured that out when you ignored everything I sent the whole week,” Jeonghan smarts. “Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it?”

You snort. “No, I will not let you fix anything else for a while.”

“Ah,” Jeonghan’s voice lifts and it irritates you. “Well I did tell you it could get worse before it gets better.” You’re silent, and his voice turns gentle. “Come on. Tell Hannie about it.”

“No. You need to be going to bed,” you insist, thinking of the time difference. Mad as you are, he needs his sleep.

“And I haven’t been able to do much of that, what with my best friend ignoring me. Now, help me so I can help you.”

You sigh. “Hold on. Let me get coffee and switch to FaceTime.” Once dressed with a coffee mug in hand in front of your computer, you rant. It feels never ending and it brings you to tears. All of the frustration of the last week, and really the last few months of living here, are boiling over and you feel like you could sob. 

To his credit, Jeonghan looks sympathetic. He usually prevents these crying jags before they start, but he can’t really do that oceans away. “I’m sorry, honey. I did say it could get worse before it gets better, but I was genuinely hoping it would never get that bad. I kind of just wanted him to spit it out, you know?” He sighs, watching you rub your watery eyes. “Have you seen or talked to him since then?”

You scoff. “No. Thankfully, there haven’t been any more meetings and I’ve managed to avoid him at home too. I’ve been going in early and staying late, if only so he doesn’t feel compelled to give me a ride or anything.” You snort at the thought. “Not that he would do that right now, I think.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Jeonghan trails off. “You know, you could just ask what his deal is? At least, he wouldn’t be holding back because he thinks you don’t want to hear it.” He hesitates for a beat. “You do want to hear it, right?”

You sigh, swirling your now-cold coffee. “I don’t know. Who knows what he might have to say? Maybe it’s better if we just stick to being coworkers. Maybe we can manage that one day.”

“I’m sure,” Jeonghan says confidently. “But don’t be shy about clearing the air for everything else if he gives an opening. You’ll both feel better for it, I think.” Then he’s holding up his phone. “Now, play me back in Words with Friends. Our game is about to expire! You can’t ignore me like this!”

~

The following week, Seungcheol stays late to wrap up some things. It’s 7pm before he finally stands to stretch, grabbing his coat and logging out of his computer. He looks at his phone on the way to the elevator and mumbles a curse. He’s got multiple notifications about a winter storm that’s rolling in, well, right now. He’s relieved he drove today, but it seems it doesn’t matter because road conditions seem to be a problem at the rate that the snow is coming down. 

He steps into the elevator when it arrives and presses for the first floor, going back to his phone. He’s surprised when the elevator stops almost immediately on the tenth floor. He bites back a sigh when it’s you of all people waiting for it. You look like you might back away and not get in the elevator with him, but he waves you in impatiently. You come in, finding the opposite corner in silence. It’s crushing and uncomfortable. 

On the first floor, he lets you step out first and even gets the door for you at the main exit. Outside, he’s ready to hustle to the parking garage because he had every reason to be concerned about the road conditions and doesn't want to dally. But you haven’t moved and it makes him bite back a curse. He doesn’t want to offer you a ride but it would be beyond rude not too. Plus, if Wonwoo or Mingyu knew he didn’t, he’d never hear the end of it. 

Seungcheol huffs irritably. “Come on.” You give him a confused look. “You’re not walking home. Come on before I change my mind.”

The only indication that you follow is the soft click of your heels behind him up into the parking garage. You don’t say anything as you climb into the passenger seat of his car, placing your bag in the floor. Seungcheol blasts the heat and pulls out of the space. The street is slick and he white knuckles it the whole way home as he drives around a number of accidents. You’re still silent, up until he pulls into his reserved spot in the parking garage at home. 

“Thank you,” you mumble softly. 

Seungcheol is tired in every sense of the word - mentally, physically, emotionally. So he mumbles back, “For what?” He rubs his eyes during the beat of silence that you let pass.

“For the ride. For making sure we got home safe.”

He’s exhausted by your constant thanks lately. ‘Thanks for asking.’ ‘Thanks for the help.’ ‘Thanks for the ride.’ It’d never occurred to him that you didn’t say it much before, but now it drives him up the wall that you do say it. “Why wouldn’t I do that?” He huffs tiredly. 

You hesitate again. “Because you hate me. It seems like it, anyway. You’re a good person for doing those things even if you feel that way, Cheol.”

His blood his boiling through the exhaustion and it occurs to him that this is a perfect opportunity to unload like Minghao has been encouraging him to do for months, so he does. His hand falls from his face, landing in his lap with a hard slap. He snaps his head to you sharply. “You know, yeah. I do hate you.” He watches how your perfectly guarded expression falls, but he’s on a roll already. “I do hate you. You make yourself a fixture in my life for over two decades. You let me in after I pined for you for years. You show me what it’s like to be loved by you. And then you rip it all away and move across the world like it all meant nothing.” His elbow lands on the door frame so he can lean into his hand in frustration. “And then you waltz back in like it’s no big deal and I can’t seem to get rid of you now because you’re everywhere. If I don’t see you at work or at home or with family and friends, I still hear about you. And I was doing good without any of that! I was happy again after you ripped my fucking heart out, and now I have to see you every goddamn day. So yeah. I do hate you.”

A thing about you that he should have remembered is that you have a temper to match his. You look livid now. “First of all, Choi Seungcheol, you act like you pined alone all that time. You know you didn’t. And you’re apparently still bitter that I did something for myself for once, rather than for you. I bent over backwards for everyone for years - taking care of my brothers and Mingyu, trying to be the perfect eldest daughter for my parents, and feeding your massive fucking ego. I needed to go explore that opportunity for myself for once but you didn’t have to leave my life because of it. The phone works both ways, asshole. I may have physically left, but you’re the one that ended all communication in the first place. Second of all, I didn’t come back for you! At least, not entirely! It’s not all about you! So you can keep being happy and pretend that I don’t exist if that’s what you prefer. Because I hate you too. I hate that I still want you even though I don’t even recognize you anymore sometimes.” 

Seungcheol scoffs heatedly. “Yeah, you wanted me enough to move on to Jeonghan as soon as you got to California. And you really wanted me on New Year’s while you were making out with him in the corner. Tell me, why did you even bother breaking up with him? Or is that just what you do? You seem rather good at it, two for two. And he’s still clinging on to your every word even though you left him, but that won’t be me.”

Your jaw drops briefly before you snap it back up sharply, eyes fiery. “You know what? Jeonghan was wrong about you. He’s been encouraging me this whole time to find a way to fix things with you, but I won’t be doing that anymore. You can watch me leave all over again.” You swing the car door open, lucky that there’s no car next to you to ding up, and slam it closed hard, marching into the apartment building. Seungcheol sits in the car for who knows how long until he realizes he shouldn’t let the car run inside the parking garage like this. He wanders into his own apartment and doesn’t see or hear from you the rest of the night. 

~

The snow comes down hard throughout the night and the city can barely keep up with it. Leadership in the office send out an email blast early the next day after your fight with Seungcheol saying that the offices will be closed. You enjoy the day off by going back to sleep to try to mend your broken heart. Around noon, you take a long shower and pile up on the couch with some hot chocolate to watch TV. As luck, or the lack of rather, would have it, the power cuts off within the first episode.

You curse out loud, clumsily dropping your mug onto the coffee table. It’s still bright out given that it’s midday, but the dark corners of your apartment unnerve you. You feel childish for it, but you don’t like the dark. It’s something you’ve never grown out of. Even in your mid to late twenties, you still like to sleep with the TV on at night if only to chase away the bad dreams. 

You think about who to call. It’s not a problem right now while it’s still light out, but if the power is still out when it’s dark out, you’ll be one big ball of anxiety. But you think better of calling anyone. You need to save your phone battery and you don’t want anyone out on the road to come and get you. Not your parents. Not Wonwoo or Mingyu. None of your other friends. Seungcheol has about twenty feet to travel, but reaching out to him is out of the question and it wouldn’t matter anyway because his apartment is just as dark as yours. You take some medicine that you rarely have to touch for anxiety anymore and plop down on the couch next to the window with a book to try to pass the time. You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it. 

It’s somewhere around 5:30pm when the light is beginning to dwindle. You’re trying to get through this last chapter when there’s a knock on your door. It startles you because the silence had your ears ringing all day, and you put your hand to your chest, book forgotten. Hesitantly, you stand up and go to the door, looking through the peep hole. However, it’s dark in the hall because there are no windows (not that they would have helped much now). 

“Who is it?” You call out, checking the lock. 

“It’s me,” a masculine voice says from the other side. You want to beat your head against the door because the voice is unmistakable. 

“Go away, Seungcheol. I’m fine,” you call out.

“Prove it,” he challenges. He knows he’s won by challenging you like that, but he has the good sense to not look overly pleased by it when you do open the door. In the dim light, he actually looks concerned. “I called and texted to check on you.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Well, I’m fine. Just reading.” Never mind that you had no idea he reached out.

“Well, your reading session is limited with the daylight fading. So get some stuff and come over to mine,” he says impatiently. 

You blanch. “Uh, why would I do that? You hate me, remember?”

In the darkness, you see him squeeze his eyes shut, looking frustrated. “Come on, Y/N. I’m trying to do something nice here,” he nearly begs. “You don’t like the dark, but at least you don’t have to be here alone. Plus, I got food and have some portable chargers for our phones.” 

“I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore,” you bite. You’re aware that you might be acting like a bit of a bitch, especially since he’s extending some kind of olive branch in the moment, but you’re still incredibly bitter about how the conversation last night ended. 

Seungcheol huffs, impatience bleeding out of him. “Y/N, that was me asking nicely. I’ll just throw you over my shoulder. You know that. Don’t test me.”

You know his threat is real, but you don’t budge. “When did you become so fucking hot and cold?” You hiss. “You hate me, and now you aren’t accepting no for an answer. Pick a lane, Seungcheol.”

“And you have yet to tell me no. You’ve just sassed, throwing things I said yesterday back in my face. So what will it be?” He snaps. 

“I don’t understand you!” You groan. “You are so fucking frustrating, Choi Seungcheol.”

He hums, looking resigned. “So be it.” Then he’s barreling into the doorway, scooping you up over his shoulder. He grabs your phone off the coffee table, stuffing it in his pocket, grabbing your keys off the hook to lock the door behind you both on the way out. What little kicking and screaming you do is over fast because you know him better than to think it will work. Your arms stay crossed when he puts you back on the ground inside his own apartment, totally unfazed by your glare. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says, handing you your phone. 

He walks farther into the apartment and you whirl around to bite back at him, but you’re surprised at the sight in the living room. Candles are lit all over the room. He does have dinner - bags of takeout that are still steaming on the coffee table. And there are many blankets on the couch. The portable chargers he mentioned are also on the coffee table, along with a few different cords. It’s… cozy, like you two are having a sleepover, something you’ve done more times than you can count. 

Seungcheol’s sitting on the couch now, splitting the takeout boxes up. He puts a few boxes in front of the spot next to him along with some chopsticks. “Broccoli beef. Come on.”

He doesn’t ask if it’s still your favorite, and your stomach grumbles loudly, so you sigh, joining him on the couch in silence. You both eat and nearly an hour passes before either of you say anything. 

You’re leaning back into the corner of the couch with one of the blankets up to your neck, staring at the wall ahead. “I don’t get you,” you mumble.

“I know,” he says softly, lacking any heat. It makes you tear up and you feel stupid for it. Still, you sniffle and you know he knows what it means. But he stays planted on his corner of the couch, matching your pose.

“I feel like I’ll never be able to get it right with you now. Not as coworkers. Not as friends. Not as anything more,” you mumble. “I don’t even know which one I’m supposed to try to get right, but I feel like I’ll always ruin everything anyway.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a long time and you almost forget you’re carrying a conversation until he speaks up again. “I don’t hate you. I should have never said that. What I meant is that sometimes I wish I did. I feel like I’m 22 all over again, getting my heart ripped out when you’re around.” You feel your chin tremble a bit at his words. “I shouldn’t have made that your problem though. Not the way I have lately anyway.”

“You know I didn’t leave without any guilt, right? Because I was drowning in it for a long time. I'm sorry for how I left things.” 

“I know,” Seungcheol whispers, sitting up to look at you. You sit up, matching his pose. “You were right last night. You needed to go to do something for yourself for once. I’m sorry my ego got in the way. I was thinking about the loss that I was about to experience and I was selfish.”

You take a deep breath, never really expecting to get an apology of any sort from him. “You had every right to be upset. I just… wanted you to be happy for me. Someday, anyway.”

“And I am,” he says solidly. “I am happy for you. That you went to the program that you wanted. That you moved back. That you might fix things with Jeonghan. I really am.”

You can’t help but give him a quizzical look. “Jeonghan? What does he have to do with this?”

Seungcheol gives you a matching quizzical look. “I… was under the impression that you guys might be getting back together. After New Year’s and all.”

You chuckle, putting your hands over your face. “Oh, yeah. That.”

“Have I misunderstood?” Seungcheol asks, confusion obvious.

“No, I guess that was the entire point. I’m not proud of it at all, but Jeonghan seemed to think that it would rile you up.” Seungcheol looks irritated even in the darkness, so you tack on an honest apology. 

“So you wanted me to be jealous?” He grinds out.

“No,” you quickly say. “I just wanted anything from you, honestly. There were a lot of things unspoken between us and I didn’t know how to get them out into the open.”

Seungcheol crooks his finger at you and you’re really helpless to not follow the instruction. You push off your blanket and sit on the cushion next to him. His finger finds your chin, holding it gently. “Well, it worked. I was jealous. Still am.” 

“Oh?” You mumble, wide eyed. There’s something about his intensity that makes you feel both shy and excited at the same time. He was somewhat possessive in the past, and it’s a little thrilling to know that he still might feel that way about you. 

He’s getting closer, creeping into your space. “I kind of hate him, actually. Wish you’d never given him a chance, because he’ll always rub it in my face.” His hand wanders from your chin, up your cheek, pushing your hair back. The touch is soft and makes you want to fold right away. It’s really totally unfair how much power he has over you. You’re reduced to a little hum in acknowledgement and he continues. “Wish you’d forget about him. I’d make you if you’d let me.”

The words spill out fast. “I’d let you do whatever.”

In the darkness, you can see Seungcheol’s eyes flare before he’s breathing a long sigh. His fingers in your hair tug lightly, pulling your head to the side. He’s crowding you, other hand wrapping around to your back, lips finding your neck delicately. Your hands find his chest, clinging to his hoodie. “I missed you.” 

The words make your eyes well up again, despite how his hand is crawling up the back of your sweatshirt and his lips are trailing up and down to the spots he knows you like. “I missed you too.”

The crack in your voice makes him lift up to meet your eyes. “If we go here again, I need you to be all in like I am. Are you?” You think he might be tearing up too, but you can’t be sure. 

“Yeah, Cheol,” you say, hands crawling up from his chest into his hair. “I’m all in.”

“Oh, thank god,” he groans, slamming his body into yours, lips finding yours. You both fall back onto the couch together and in a lot of ways it feels like you never left.

~

“You’re late.”

Minghao tries to look upset as Seungcheol rushes into the conference room for their team meeting. Luckily, Seungcheol’s supervisor isn’t in this one, just Seungcheol and his team. The others try to match the annoyance, but it doesn’t stick. They haven’t been good about looking annoyed with him in weeks. 

“Sorry, got a late start this morning,” Seungcheol excuses, pulling out his notebook and pen. 

“Date night on a Wednesday?” Seungkwan teases. “Come on, we have things to do. Save it for Friday.”

“No, Friday’s still date night. Who knows what kept him up late last night?” Chan says, though he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Seungcheol throws one of the thin coasters on the table in his direction.

“Let’s keep it professional, please,” Seungcheol says, hoping it comes out as a demand, but he knows it's more of a plea.

“Uh huh. Professional like making out with Y/N in your office in the middle of the day?” Seungkwan bites back. 

“Oh man, that was traumatizing,” Vernon chuckles. 

“He has glass doors, you think he’d be more aware of his surroundings,” Chan tacks on.

They’d known the day that everyone came back after the snow storm that something had changed and they’d refused to leave his office until they found out what it was. Seungcheol shouldn’t have been astonished by it, but they started trading money in front of him when he announced that he was official with you (again). Apparently, his behavior in meetings wasn’t the only bet they’d made. Minghao pocketed a pretty generous amount of money and was once again unfazed at the threat of going to HR. His exact words were, “okay, fire me.”

Seungcheol wouldn’t be doing that. 

But since then, they hadn’t let him breathe about much of anything. He takes two minutes extra for lunch? Must have stopped to see you. Lingers after a meeting? It’s only because you were in that meeting. Running late like today? Must be your fault. 

Still, Seungcheol is flushing about the fact that he was caught with you in his office last week, so he brings the meeting to order. He knows he’s only delaying the inevitable, but he can force them to stay on topic for the hour so he’ll do that. 

You miss each other most of the day between meetings and such, and he meets you at your office door at exactly 5pm, leaning against the door frame. You grin at him, pulling on your coat. “Hi,” you say, leaning up to kiss him. 

He pulls you in for one more. “Hi. Busy day?”

You sigh. “Yeah, what about you? Didn’t see you much.”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, I know. I was booked most of the day. But they can’t keep me here anymore,” he insists. 

You giggle, before looking a little pensive. “Are you sure you’re okay with just going home today?”

Seungcheol nods automatically. “Of course. I’m fine with a night in.”

“If you’re sure,” you say, but a pout has settled on your lips that he just has to kiss. 

“Stop. Pouting is my job. But really, I don’t mind. We can always go out another night.”

“If you insist,” you sigh, leading him to the elevators. 

Later that night, he’s got you curled up into his side. You both rarely sleep alone anymore. It’s all too easy to just run to the other’s apartment when it's time for bed, if you weren't together already. He debates on mentioning moving in together to save the money, but it feels too soon, so he bites his tongue. 

“Thank you for the night in,” you mumble sleepily. He’s surprised because he thought you were asleep already, but he presses a kiss to your head. 

“Of course, baby. Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

You don’t say it back, but he’ll forgive you because you really are asleep now. He whispers a little ‘I love you’ just for good measure. 

[sturnswrites]

back to you - pt. 2

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ angst, crying, fluff, kissing 

⤳ you and matt break up after you leave for college but when summer break comes around you both can’t seem to shake the feeling of one another away.

---------------------------------------------

The night air was cool as you followed Matt away from the noise of the party. Your heart raced with every step, your mind whirling with questions you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to. The backyard stretched into quiet darkness, string lights flickering above like hesitant stars.

He stopped near the edge of the yard, turning to face you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension hanging thick between you.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what did you want to talk about?”

Matt shifted, his hands finding the pockets of his hoodie as he looked down at the grass. “I just… I wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, your skepticism showing. “You dragged me out here to ask how I’m doing?”

He winced, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, that sounded bad. I just mean—I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I didn’t know how else to say it.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you pushed the feeling down. “Well, I’m fine. College is good. Busy, but good.”

Matt nodded quickly, like he was clinging to every word. “That’s good. That’s great. I figured you’d be killing it out there. What’s your favorite class so far?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is this really what we’re doing? Small talk?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I want to know how you’ve been. I missed you, okay?”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to keep your voice steady. “You missed me? Really? Because it didn’t seem like that when you broke up with me, Matt.”

His shoulders sagged, and he let out a long breath. “I know. I know I messed up. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. To explain.”

“Explain what?” you asked, crossing your arms. “That you didn’t think we were worth the effort? That you thought I’d be better off without you?”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. “That’s not what I thought.”

“Then what did you think?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you—from me, from the distance, from everything that could go wrong. But I was wrong, Y/N. I was an idiot for leaving you.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Matt—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I’ve done since then is regret it. You were the best thing in my life, and I threw it away because I was too scared to believe we could make it work.” He paused, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But I’m not scared anymore. I want to make this right. Make us right.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to let yourself believe that things could go back to the way they were. But you couldn’t ignore the part of you that was still hurt, still hesitant.

“You think it’s that simple?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You say you want me back, and we just forget everything that happened?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I know it’s not simple. I know I have a lot to make up for. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes—if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. “You really hurt me, Matt.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes full of regret. “And I’ll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I’m not going to hurt you again.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you hated how much you still loved him, how much you wanted to believe he meant every word. “I’ve been trying so hard to move on,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His breath hitched, and he stepped even closer, his hand hovering near yours. “You don’t have to move on,” he said. “We can figure this out together. If you still want me—if there’s even a chance—please, Y/N. Let me try.”

You looked into his eyes, and for the first time in months, you let yourself hope. “I never stopped wanting you,” you admitted.

Matt exhaled shakily, and before you could second-guess yourself, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, as if he was pouring every unsaid word into that one moment.

- 

The party was a distant memory as you walked into Matt’s house, the one you hadn’t been inside since last summer. The air inside was familiar, carrying the faint scent of laundry detergent and candles you were sure Nick insisted on burning. Memories tugged at your heart—laughing on the couch with his brothers, late-night talks in the kitchen, falling asleep in his arms on that very couch after a movie marathon.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Matt hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, do you want water or something? I don’t know how long you want to stay, but—”

“Water’s fine,” you said softly, your eyes scanning the space. The house looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Or maybe it was you who had changed.

Matt disappeared into the kitchen, and you wandered into the living room. Your fingers brushed against the back of the couch, your mind flashing to all the times you’d sat there together, tangled in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing.

“Here,” Matt said, breaking the silence. You turned to find him holding out a glass of water.

“Thanks.” You took it, your fingers brushing his, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Do you… want to go to my room?” he asked tentatively.

You hesitated. That room held so many memories, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to face them. But you nodded anyway, following him down the hall.

When you stepped inside, your chest tightened. Everything was the same—the posters on the walls, the rumpled comforter on the bed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air. It was like stepping back in time, except now there was an invisible wall of tension between you.

Matt hovered near the door, rubbing his hands together nervously. “You can sit down, you know. You don’t have to stand there like it’s some kind of museum.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “It kind of feels like one,” you admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He joined you, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you.

“Why does this feel so weird?” you asked finally.

“Because we’re not the same people we were a year ago,” he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your hands. “Yeah. We’re not.”

Matt shifted closer, his knee brushing yours. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I mean… we’ve changed, sure. But the way I feel about you hasn’t.”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your voice steady. “Matt, I don’t know if I can just… pretend like everything’s okay again. You broke my heart.”

He winced, his hand running through his hair. “I know. And I’ll never stop regretting that. But, Y/N, I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. Just… tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked something inside you. “I don’t know what I need, Matt,” you admitted. “I just know that being here with you—it’s messing with my head.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “I don’t want to mess with your head, Y/N. I just want to show you that I’m still the guy who loves you more than anything. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you blinked them away. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “It’s messy, and it’s going to take time. But I’m willing to fight for it—for you. If you’ll let me.”

Your heart was pounding, and before you could overthink it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that felt like both an ending and a beginning. He froze for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening, and then he kissed you back with a desperation that took your breath away.

His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, every ounce of love, regret, and longing pouring into it. When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing hard.

“God, I missed you,” Matt whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smiled faintly, your chest aching in the best way. “I missed you too.”

-

After hours of being tangled in each others embrace, you had decided it was too late to go home and that you would stay the night. 

Matt settled beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, but you couldn’t fully relax.

He noticed immediately. “You okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

You hesitated, then sighed. “I just… I need time to adjust to your existence again.”

He hummed softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words settled something in you, and you let yourself relax against him, his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

-

One month later, you found yourself back in Matt’s room, perched on the edge of his bed. The atmosphere was warm and familiar, but there was a quiet weight in the air that neither of you could ignore. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—reconnecting in ways that made your heart race, stolen moments of laughter, and soft touches that reminded you of the love you once shared. But there was something still unspoken between you, something that needed to be addressed.

Matt sat across from you, cross-legged on the bed, his fingers idly toying with the hem of his hoodie. He seemed nervous, his eyes darting to you and then quickly away, like he was trying to find the right words but was afraid of what they might mean.

You broke the silence first, unable to take the tension anymore. “We’ve been avoiding this conversation, haven’t we?”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, we have.”

You tucked your legs underneath you, the comforter soft beneath your fingers as you fidgeted with it. “We’ve been spending so much time together, Matt, but we haven’t really talked about… what this is.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze finally meeting yours. “I know. And I think about it all the time. I just… I didn’t want to push you. I wanted to give you the space to figure out what you wanted.”

Your heart ached at his thoughtfulness, but it also made you more anxious. “And what about you? What do you want, Matt?”

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I want this. I want you. But I need to know that you’re ready for that too. I don’t want to rush you into something you’re not sure about.”

The honesty in his voice made you feel like the room had shrunk, like it was just the two of you in this little bubble of vulnerability. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, and he immediately took it, holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, Matt. And the thought of going through that again…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “It terrifies me.”

His grip on your hand tightened, his gaze unwavering. “It terrifies me too,” he said softly. “But I’m more terrified of not trying. Of letting you slip away again because I was too afraid to fight for what we have.”

You blinked back tears, your chest tightening with emotion. “What if we mess it up again? What if—”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he interrupted gently. “Together. Y/N, I can’t promise that everything will be perfect, but I can promise you this—I’ll fight for us. Every single day. Because not having you in my life was… it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. And I’m not making it again.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped down your cheeks. He reached out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the wetness as it fell.

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N. And I’m not letting you go again. Not now, not ever.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, the weight of his words sinking into you. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I never stopped either.”

The relief on his face was immediate, and without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was slow and tender, full of all the emotions you’d both been holding back for so long. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you felt like the world had melted away, leaving only the two of you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. “So what does this mean?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his hoodie.

“It means we take it one day at a time,” Matt said, his voice steady. “No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring it out.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think I can handle that.”

He grinned, his boyish charm making your heart flutter. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go again, Y/N. You’re stuck with me.”

You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. In that moment, the fear and uncertainty faded, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a new beginning.

And for the first time in months, you felt like everything might just be okay.

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heheh ok i'm actually obsessed with this

⭒ margot