#the second song being a response to the first one????? angst!

[amethystarachnid]

Hello, I’d love to request something for you

It’s for Tony and female reader, they are friends with benefits and she ends up getting pregnant, she’s afraid to tell Tony and afraid of his reaction because their arrangement doesn’t involve feelings (but they are so deeply in love with each other already) so she starts getting a little cold with him and Tony gets sad, until one day they decide to talk and reader tells him that she’s pregnant and that she understands if he doesn’t want the baby but Tony is so happy to be a father and to be a father of a baby with the woman he loves 🤍 after the news they will turn into a real couple and be so happy together. Thank you! 🤍

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: spicy, some mixed angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k

ᯓ★ Summary: Accidents happen, right? That's what you keep telling yourself the days after the condom broke while you and Tony were...together. Your period doesn't come but you lie to Tony and tell him it as, because he surely doesn't want a kid, right?

ᯓ★ TW(s): a small spicy scene, condom breaks

ᯓ★ I love family man Tony so much, matter of fact, I love every character seen as a family man I don't know why lol.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The fluorescent lights of the Stark Tower kitchen are glaring, but not as much as Tony Stark’s smirk. He’s leaning against the counter, casually sipping coffee like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. But you know better. You see the faint twitch of his lips, the amused glint in his eyes that’s practically begging you to break the silence.

“You’re being weird,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the fridge.

“Weird?” he repeats, mock-offended. “I’m drinking coffee in my own kitchen. What’s weird about that?”

You raise an eyebrow. “The way you’re looking at me. Like... like you’re picturing something.”

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’m definitely picturing something.” He tilts his head, eyes roaming over you in a way that’s anything but subtle. “Something that happened roughly seven hours ago, give or take.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you quickly avert your gaze. Seven hours ago, you’d been in Tony’s bed—or rather, sprawled across it while his hands did things you’re not entirely sure you’ll ever recover from. It’s supposed to be casual, the thing you have with him. No feelings, no strings. Just… stress relief, as Tony had so eloquently put it when this arrangement started.

But Tony Stark has a way of making casual feel like a loaded gun, just waiting to go off.

“Keep it down,” you hiss, glancing toward the door. “Do you want the others to hear?”

Tony raises his eyebrows in mock innocence. “What others? I’m pretty sure we’re alone.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you grab an apple from the counter, pretending to be far more interested in it than the infuriating man in front of you. Tony doesn’t move. He just keeps looking at you with that stupid smirk that makes your stomach flip in a way that’s both exhilarating and dangerous.

“You know,” he says after a beat, “if you keep trying to play the ‘nothing to see here’ card, it’s going to make things more obvious.”

“Obvious?” You scoff. “There’s nothing to make obvious.”

Tony sets his mug down and closes the distance between you in two easy steps. You barely have time to react before he’s towering over you, his arms boxing you in against the fridge. His cologne—some kind of absurdly expensive blend that probably costs more than your rent—wraps around you like a second skin.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice low enough to send shivers down your spine. “I’m a genius. You think I don’t notice the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching?”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, you do.” His lips curve into a smug grin, and damn it, why does he have to look so good doing it? “And let’s not forget how you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself when we’re alone.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, his voice dropping another octave. “Don’t worry. I like it. But you might want to work on your poker face, darling, because if I can tell, you can bet your ass the others will.”

The implication makes your stomach twist. “They don’t know.”

“Not yet,” Tony agrees. “But I wouldn’t underestimate Romanoff. Or Rogers, for that matter. The guy might be old-fashioned, but he’s not blind.”

You groan, pushing against his chest to create some distance. “This is exactly why we need to keep things… professional in public.”

Tony chuckles, stepping back just enough to let you breathe. “Sure. Professional. That’s exactly the vibe we give off.”

You glare at him. “I’m serious, Tony. If this gets out—”

He interrupts you with a finger pressed to your lips. “Relax. I’m not exactly running my mouth about it. What we do—” He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “—or don’t do—is nobody’s business.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you hate how easily he gets to you. You know you should say something, maybe call him out for being so infuriatingly cocky, but the words catch in your throat when his hand brushes against your hip, his touch just light enough to make you ache for more.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter.

“And yet, here you are,” he quips, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Before you can respond—or do something stupid, like kiss him—the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you shove Tony away, nearly knocking the apple off the counter in your haste to look casual.

The door swings open, and Steve Rogers walks in, his expression as neutral as ever.

“Morning,” he says, nodding at the two of you.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice a little too high-pitched for comfort.

Tony, of course, is the picture of nonchalance. “Cap,” he says, raising his mug in a mock salute. “How’s it going?”

Steve gives him a once-over, his gaze lingering just long enough to make you sweat. But if he notices anything unusual, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and heads for the door.

“Training in ten,” he says over his shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

As soon as he’s gone, you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “See? This is why we need to be more careful.”

Tony shrugs, unbothered. “Relax. If anyone could smell trouble, it’d be Rogers. And he didn’t say a word.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t suspect something.”

Tony smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe. But then again, maybe he just thinks you can’t resist my charm.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet…” He steps closer, his voice dropping to that dangerously seductive tone that makes your knees weak. “You keep coming back.”

Before you can respond, he’s gone, sauntering out of the kitchen like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You, on the other hand, are left standing there, your heart racing and your head spinning.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

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Tony’s fingers tangle in your hair, his lips trailing hot, demanding kisses down your neck as your back hits the soft sheets of his bed. The city lights outside cast long, flickering shadows across the room, but you barely notice. You’re far too focused on the way Tony’s hands roam your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you, the rough pads of his fingers igniting fire wherever they touch.

"You're incredible," he mutters, his voice thick with reverence and hunger as he leans back to look at you. His gaze rakes over you like you're the most exquisite thing he's ever laid eyes on, and for a moment, you're lost in the intensity of his expression. It's almost too much. Almost.

"You're not so bad yourself," you tease, though your voice comes out breathier than you'd like. It doesn’t matter. Tony doesn’t need words to know what he does to you.

He smirks at your reply, his trademark arrogance mingling with a rawness he rarely lets anyone see. He dives back in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that leaves you dizzy and aching. Everything about him is overwhelming in the best possible way—the taste of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against your skin, the way his hands grip your hips like he can’t bear the thought of letting you go.

The night is a blur of heated whispers, tangled sheets, and the sound of your name falling from his lips like a prayer. By the time you both collapse back onto the bed, spent and panting, the world feels a little hazier, a little quieter. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, his body warm against yours as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“You’re something else,” he murmurs, his voice soft but edged with that familiar playful lilt.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, your heart still racing as you close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you.

But then, his hand stills on your hip. There’s a beat of silence, followed by a quiet curse under his breath.

“What?” you ask, your voice sharp with alarm as you sit up slightly to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Tony doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls back just enough to inspect the condom in his hand—what’s left of it, anyway. The air between you shifts instantly, the charged intimacy replaced by something colder. His jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to yours, and you don’t need him to say anything to understand.

It broke.

Your stomach twists, panic creeping in around the edges of your mind. You know what this means. You know the risks, the possibilities. And judging by the way Tony is staring at you, his usual confidence momentarily stripped away, he knows too.

“Okay,” you say quickly, sitting up fully and reaching for his hand. “It’s fine. We’ll handle this.”

“Handle it?” he echoes, his tone sharp. His fingers curl into a fist around the useless piece of latex, his frustration evident. “Do you have any idea—”

“Yes,” you interrupt firmly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know. But freaking out isn’t going to help.”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You place your hand over his, squeezing gently. “I know. But it did, and we’ll deal with it.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his dark eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find something—reassurance, maybe, or some kind of solution to a problem neither of you can undo. Finally, he nods, though his jaw is still tight.

“I’ll take care of it,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. “I’ll get the pill tomorrow morning. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression a mixture of skepticism and concern. “Not a big deal? Y/N—”

“Tony,” you cut him off, your tone firmer now. “I’m serious. It’s fine. These things happen. That’s why emergency contraception exists.”

He doesn’t look convinced. If anything, he looks more agitated, his mind no doubt racing through every worst-case scenario. You can practically see the calculations happening behind his eyes, his genius brain working overtime to solve a problem that can’t be solved with tech or money or wit.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching up to cup his face. His stubble is rough against your palm, but his skin is warm, grounding. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he does, his eyes locking with yours. There’s a vulnerability there, buried beneath the layers of charm and bravado he wears like armor. It’s a side of him he rarely lets anyone see, and it makes your chest ache.

“It’s going to be okay,” you say, your voice steady. “I promise.”

He exhales slowly, some of the tension in his shoulders easing at your words. He places his hand over yours, holding it against his cheek like he’s drawing strength from your touch.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he murmurs, his tone softer now. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” you say firmly. “It just happened. And it’s not the end of the world.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours like he’s trying to gauge whether you really believe what you’re saying. You hold his gaze, willing him to see that you’re not afraid—that you’re in control, even if the situation feels precarious.

Finally, he nods again, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Alright,” he says quietly. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Now, stop overthinking it and come back to bed.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“Someone has to be,” you tease, lying back down and pulling him with you. He goes willingly, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go.

As you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you feel the tension slowly drain from his body. He still holds you a little tighter than usual, and you know the worry is still there, lurking beneath the surface. But for now, you’re both safe in the quiet cocoon of his bed, and that’s enough.

The morning sunlight spills into the bedroom, cutting through the blinds in thin golden slats. You wake up before Tony, which isn’t unusual. His arm is slung lazily over your waist, and his face is relaxed in a way that makes him look younger, softer—like he’s let go of the weight of the world, if only for a few precious hours.

You slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. Your feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and you grab one of his shirts from the edge of the bed, slipping it over your bare skin before padding out of the room. The small box you picked up from the pharmacy the night before sits on the kitchen counter, unopened. Your stomach twists as you pick it up, the weight of it heavier than it should be.

It’s not the first time you’ve taken the pill, and logically, you know what to expect. It’s supposed to be a fail-safe, a last resort. But something about the circumstances makes your chest tighten as you swallow the pill with a sip of water. The air feels thicker this morning, heavy with an unspoken tension that you can’t quite shake.

By the time Tony joins you, freshly showered and looking far too put-together for someone who stayed up so late, you’ve shoved the box deep into the trash and plastered on your best neutral expression. He doesn’t mention the pill. He doesn’t ask if you took it, though you know he’s probably been thinking about it. Instead, he leans casually against the counter and makes a joke about the kitchen being out of coffee, his easy demeanor doing little to mask the faint tension in his voice.

You don’t call him out on it. The last thing you want is to drag the conversation back into that same spiral of worry. Instead, you focus on normalcy—breakfast, half-hearted banter, the comforting rhythm of your strange, secret dynamic.

Days pass. A week. Maybe more. At first, you’re fine, brushing off the gnawing anxiety at the back of your mind. But when the calendar flips over to a new month and your period is nowhere to be found, the panic starts to creep in.

You check your phone obsessively, googling every possible explanation that isn’t what you’re afraid of. Stress, you tell yourself. Hormonal shifts. The pill can do this, right? Throw off your cycle? It’s not like your body works on a perfect schedule anyway.

And yet, as the days continue to pass, your chest tightens a little more every morning. The thought of telling Tony lingers at the edge of your mind, a shadow that grows darker every time you push it away. You think back to the night it happened, to the way he looked at you when the condom broke. The frustration, the fear—it’s all burned into your memory, and you’re not sure you can bear to see that look again.

So you don’t tell him.

When he asks casually a week later if “everything’s sorted,” you force yourself to smile and nod. “Yeah,” you say, your voice far steadier than you feel. “It was just a big scare. Everything’s fine now.”

The relief that washes over his face makes your heart sink. He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as his lips curve into an easy grin. “Good. That’s good.”

He doesn’t realize the way your stomach twists when he says it. He doesn’t notice the faint tremor in your hands as you reach for your coffee cup, your fingers brushing against the ceramic edge like it’s the only thing grounding you.

Tony doesn’t dwell on it after that. He’s good at compartmentalizing—too good, sometimes. Once he’s reassured, the topic is filed away in whatever mental vault he keeps for things he doesn’t want to think about.

But for you, it lingers.

You try to push it down, to bury it beneath layers of distraction. Missions, training, pretending that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet. But every time you’re alone, the weight of the lie presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe.

You catch yourself staring at him sometimes, wondering what he would say if you told him the truth. Would he panic? Shut down? Or would he surprise you, the way he sometimes does, with a level of vulnerability that makes your heart ache? You don’t know, and the uncertainty is almost worse than the fear itself.

One night, as the two of you sit curled up on the couch watching some old black-and-white movie he insisted you’d love, you feel the words bubbling up in your throat. The urge to tell him is almost overwhelming, the silence between you stretching thin and taut like a thread about to snap.

“Tony—” you start, but he cuts you off with a lazy smirk, his hand brushing against your thigh.

“You’re not actually paying attention, are you?” he teases, nodding toward the screen.

The moment slips through your fingers like water, and you force a laugh, shaking your head. “Not really,” you admit, though the words feel hollow in your mouth.

He grins, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The warmth of his touch should be comforting, but all you feel is the gnawing guilt in the pit of your stomach.

Days turn into weeks. You’ve never been particularly religious, but you find yourself silently praying every night, begging for some kind of resolution that doesn’t involve your entire world unraveling. You know you can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, the truth will come out, whether you want it to or not.

But for now, you cling to the fragile illusion of normalcy, pretending that everything is fine, that the ache in your chest isn’t growing louder with every passing day.

It’s late one evening when the weight of it all finally becomes too much. You’re standing in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin looks paler than usual, your eyes shadowed with exhaustion. You press a hand to your stomach, your fingers trembling as you let out a shaky breath.

You can’t do this. You can’t keep pretending.

But when you step out of the bathroom and find Tony sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on his tablet with an easy smile on his face, the words die in your throat. He looks so… unburdened, so relieved.

You sit down beside him, your movements stiff and robotic. He glances at you, his expression softening as he sets the tablet aside. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You okay?”

You nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

It’s not fine. None of this is fine. But as Tony wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, you let yourself fall into the comfort of his embrace, even if it feels like it’s built on a crumbling foundation.

Because right now, it’s easier to let him believe the lie than to face the truth.

And for better or worse, you’re not ready to let go of the fragile peace that lie has created. Not yet.

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The bathroom feels colder than usual, the air thick with a kind of tension you can almost taste. You’re sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, staring at the small white stick on the sink like it’s a bomb waiting to go off. Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest that it drowns out everything else—the hum of the air conditioning, the distant city sounds drifting through the window, even your own breath.

You’ve been here for what feels like an eternity, though it’s probably only been a few minutes. The instructions on the box said three minutes, but you’re too scared to look. Too scared to confirm what your body has already been hinting at for days.

Your period is ten days late. Ten.

You’ve always been irregular—stress, missions, even the pill you took that morning can throw your cycle off—but ten days? That’s more than a delay. That’s a sign.

You’re holding your breath, your hands clenched tightly around the fabric of your pajama pants. You want to stand up, to take that final step and see the result, but your legs won’t move. You’re frozen, caught between the urge to know and the overwhelming fear of what you might find.

When you finally gather the courage to stand, your knees feel shaky, like they might buckle under you. You lean over the sink, your trembling hand reaching for the pregnancy test. It takes everything in you to flip it over, to look at the little window that holds the answer to the question you’ve been too terrified to ask.

Two lines.

Positive.

You blink, your breath catching in your throat as the reality of it sinks in. For a moment, you feel like the ground beneath you has shifted, like the whole world has tilted on its axis. This can’t be real. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, as you stare at those two little lines, a strange, unexpected feeling blooms in your chest. It’s faint, fragile, but it’s there—happiness.

Your hand flies to your mouth as tears spill down your cheeks. You don’t even know why you’re crying. Is it shock? Fear? Joy? Maybe it’s all of it, a tangled knot of emotions you can’t begin to unravel.

You sink to the floor, your back against the cold bathroom tile, clutching the test in your hands like it’s a lifeline. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t wipe them away. You just sit there, letting the wave of emotions crash over you.

You love him. That’s the thought that breaks through the chaos in your mind, clear and undeniable. You love Tony Stark. Of course, you do. You’ve loved him for longer than you care to admit, longer than this arrangement of yours has been going on. And now, you’re carrying a piece of him inside you—a tiny, fragile piece that terrifies you and fills you with a strange, aching kind of hope all at once.

But then the fear creeps back in, sharp and insistent.

You think about the way he reacted that morning after the condom broke, the tension in his shoulders, the way he’d paced like he was trying to solve an unsolvable equation. You think about the relief that washed over his face when you lied and told him your period had come.

He doesn’t want this.

The thought makes your chest ache, the tears coming faster now. You know Tony. You know the walls he’s built around himself, the way he keeps people at arm’s length, even when he’s letting them into his bed. You know how hard he fights to keep control over his life, his world, his emotions.

A baby? That’s not part of his plan. Hell, you’re not even part of his plan. You’re supposed to be casual, no strings, no complications. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, here you are, clutching a pregnancy test and crying alone in the bathroom, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to navigate this new reality.

You can’t tell him. The thought hits you like a punch to the gut, but you know it’s true. You can’t tell Tony. Not now. Not when you can still see the relief in his eyes from the last time you reassured him that everything was fine.

He’ll leave. The thought makes your stomach twist painfully, but you can’t shake it. If you tell him, he’ll panic. He’ll shut down, pull away, and you’ll lose him completely. And as much as the idea of raising a child on your own terrifies you, the thought of losing Tony is worse.

So you don’t tell him.

You wipe your tears, setting the test on the counter with shaking hands. Your reflection in the mirror looks haunted, your eyes red and puffy, your cheeks streaked with tears. You take a deep breath, splashing cold water on your face in a futile attempt to calm yourself. You need to pull it together. You need to figure out what comes next.

But for now, all you can do is stand there, staring at your reflection, trying to reconcile the life you thought you had with the one that’s suddenly, irrevocably changed.

The door to the bedroom creaks open, and your heart leaps into your throat. You scramble to compose yourself, swiping at your eyes and plastering on a shaky smile just as Tony’s voice drifts into the bathroom.

“Hey, you alright in there?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with concern.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to sound normal. “Yeah,” you call back, your voice only wavering slightly. “Just… needed a minute.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he hums softly, like he’s satisfied with your answer. “Well, don’t take too long. I ordered breakfast, and you know how I feel about eating alone.”

You let out a weak laugh, your chest tightening at the sound of his voice. “Be right there.”

When you step out of the bathroom a few minutes later, your face freshly washed and your expression carefully neutral, Tony’s already sprawled on the bed with a plate of food balanced precariously on his lap. He grins when he sees you, patting the spot beside him like nothing’s changed.

And for now, you let yourself fall into the illusion of normalcy, even as the weight of your secret presses heavily against your chest.

The air between you and Tony shifts subtly at first—so small, so gradual, that neither of you comments on it. Nights that once burned hot now fizzle out before they even begin. The once-electric tension, the playful banter that led to tangled sheets and breathless laughter, is replaced by something colder. It’s you who pulls away first. At first, it’s subtle—an excuse here, a brush-off there. “I’m not in the mood tonight,” you say, avoiding his eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed, a little too far from him.

Tony lets it go. He always does.

He’s not the type to push, and you know he’s trying to respect your space. But as the days stretch into weeks, your distance becomes harder to ignore. Every time he reaches for you, his touch hesitant but hopeful, you step just a little further out of his reach. It’s not that you don’t want him—god, you want him more than ever. But every time he’s close, every time his lips brush against your skin or his voice drops into that low, teasing tone that always used to make you weak, you feel the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a stone.

You don’t know how to face him, how to look him in the eye without feeling like a liar. So you pull away.

Tony notices. Of course he notices.

At first, he thinks it’s stress. You’ve been juggling missions, the chaos of your lives, the constant push and pull of being in the public eye while trying to keep your relationship—whatever it is—a secret. Stress makes sense. It’s logical, explainable. But as time goes on, and your coldness toward him hardens into something sharper, something unrelenting, the doubts creep in.

It’s late one night, and Tony’s lying in bed alone, staring up at the ceiling as the soft glow of the arc reactor casts faint, shifting patterns on the walls. You’re not there. You’d excused yourself earlier, claiming you were tired, but instead of lying down beside him like you used to, you’d retreated to the living room.

He wants to follow you, to ask what’s wrong, to tell you he misses you even though he knows it’s not the kind of thing you say to someone who’s supposed to be a casual fling. But he doesn’t. He stays in bed, his chest tight, his mind spinning with every possible explanation for your sudden distance.

Maybe you’re over him. The thought sends a sharp pang through his chest, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. People lose interest all the time. It’s normal. Expected.

But then there’s another thought, one that he tries to push down but can’t quite ignore: Maybe there’s someone else.

He hates the idea of it. Hates the way his stomach twists every time it crosses his mind. But the way you’ve been avoiding him, the way you’ve stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped touching him, stopped letting him touch you—it all feels like proof that he’s losing you.

The thing is, Tony Stark isn’t good at feelings. He’s spent his whole life hiding behind sarcasm, distractions, and whatever shiny piece of tech he can throw together to keep people from seeing the cracks beneath the surface. But you? You’ve always been different. You’re the one person who makes him feel like he doesn’t have to pretend, like he doesn’t have to be “Iron Man” all the time.

And that scares him. Because if he loses you, he doesn’t know how to go back to the person he was before.

He tries to bridge the gap one night. It’s been weeks since you let him touch you the way he used to, weeks since the warmth of your body pressed against his in the dark. So he decides to take a chance.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice tentative as he steps into the living room where you’re curled up on the couch, your knees drawn to your chest.

You glance up at him, your expression guarded, and his chest tightens.

“Hey,” he continues, trying to keep his tone light, casual, like he’s not unraveling inside. “I was thinking we could—” He hesitates, the words catching in his throat. “You know. Watch a movie or something.”

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m not really in the mood, Tony.”

It’s the same excuse you’ve been giving him for weeks now, and it stings just as much as it did the first time. He nods, stepping back like he’s been burned.

“Right,” he says, his voice clipped. “Of course. You’re… busy.”

You feel the weight of his disappointment, and it makes your stomach twist with guilt. You want to reach out, to tell him the truth, but the words won’t come. You’re too scared—scared of what he’ll say, scared of what he won’t say.

Tony doesn’t press the issue. He never does. Instead, he retreats back to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. But you know him well enough to know he’s hurting. You’ve seen the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, the way he avoids looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You hate it. You hate yourself for causing it.

But every time you think about telling him the truth, about letting him into the tangled mess of emotions you’re drowning in, the memory of his relief when he thought everything was fine stops you. You can’t bear the thought of seeing that same relief again, of watching him pull away from you because this—whatever this is—was never supposed to be more than just sex.

The problem is, it’s so much more for you. It always has been. And the thought of him not feeling the same way, of him walking away when he finds out about the baby, is enough to keep you silent.

So you stay distant, building walls around yourself even as your heart breaks every time you see him. And Tony, for all his brilliance, doesn’t know how to break through them.

It’s late when Tony finally breaks. The night air is cool, flowing in through the windows of the lab as he works, tinkering with something that doesn’t need fixing but still allows him to focus on something other than the gnawing feeling that’s been growing in his gut for the past few weeks.

He can’t ignore it any longer.

You’ve been so distant, so closed off. Every time he reaches for you, you pull away, your smile strained, your touch hesitant. He knows something’s wrong. You’ve been avoiding him—more than usual—and it’s like the light that once sparked in your eyes when you were around him has dimmed. You’re still there, physically, but emotionally? Mentally? He’s losing you, and he doesn’t know why.

At first, he thought it was just stress. You’ve both been running at full speed with everything going on in your lives—missions, the Avengers, the constant media circus that surrounds everything you do. But as the weeks have stretched on, and you’ve pulled further into yourself, Tony’s mind starts to wonder. He tries to brush it off, tries to tell himself that maybe you’re just going through something, or maybe you’ve just gotten tired of the arrangement you two have been navigating.

But that would mean he’s losing you, and the thought of that makes his chest ache.

He’s pacing now, a strange sense of urgency growing inside him. He can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. He can’t pretend he hasn’t noticed the way you flinch when he touches you, how you go out of your way to make excuses not to be close, to keep that emotional distance between you. It hurts. It cuts deeper than any physical wound he’s had, and if he doesn’t get to the bottom of it, he feels like he might lose himself entirely.

Without thinking, Tony heads toward the living room, his footsteps heavy as he approaches the place you’ve been hiding out in for the past hour. He’s not sure what he expects when he opens the door, but he knows he needs answers.

When you look up at him from the couch, curled up with a book in your hands, he sees it again—the sadness behind your eyes, the coldness in the way you hold yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve looked at him like that, and it hurts more than he’s willing to admit.

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice more strained than he meant it to be, “We need to talk.”

You blink at him, like you were expecting him to say something else, something easier to hear. But instead, you set the book down, letting out a long breath. “What about?”

Tony steps closer, his brow furrowed in frustration, eyes searching yours for any sign of the woman he once knew. “You’re not fine. I know you’re not. And I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay between us when it’s not.”

You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something, but the words die on your tongue. You’re not ready to tell him, not yet, but Tony’s insistent stare makes you feel like you don’t have a choice.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on. I—” He cuts himself off, not sure if he’s about to confess something he isn’t ready for. “I hate this distance between us. I hate how you’ve been avoiding me, and I’m not going to let you shut me out. Not when I know something’s wrong. So please, just tell me.”

You stand slowly, turning away from him, eyes cast down to the floor as you try to steady your breathing. You know you can’t keep this secret any longer. He deserves to know, but you’re terrified of his reaction. Terrified that he’ll leave, or worse, that he’ll shut you out just like you’ve been doing to him.

“I—” you start, your voice cracking slightly as you turn back to face him, your words hanging in the air like a fragile glass balloon ready to pop. “Tony, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, the room feels impossibly still. The sound of your heart pounding in your chest is louder than anything else. Tony’s face doesn’t change immediately, and for a second, you wonder if he’s even heard you. Maybe he didn’t catch it, didn’t really understand what you just said.

But then his eyes meet yours, and you can see the shock flicker across his face, his mouth opening as if he’s about to speak but nothing comes out.

The silence between you both stretches, and you hate it. You hate the tension that fills the space where once there was laughter, banter, comfort. You take a deep breath, the weight of your confession settling on your shoulders like an anchor, and you brace yourself for his response.

“I know you don’t want this,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I saw the way you reacted when I told you my period had come. You were relieved, and I know that means you don’t want a kid. And I—”

But Tony doesn’t let you finish. He’s already moved toward you, his expression softening, and before you even realize it, his hand is gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear you didn’t know had fallen.

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his voice quieter now, but his words are firm, like he’s trying to make you understand something important. “I wasn’t relieved because I didn’t want the baby. I was relieved because I remember you saying you didn’t want kids right now.” He lets out a shaky laugh, almost embarrassed by the way his own words feel in his mouth. “I guess I got scared for a second, thinking this was all happening too fast, but it wasn’t about not wanting a kid. It was about… us. About where we are in life. I wasn’t sure if you were ready for this, for everything that comes with it.”

You stare at him, blinking as the shock of his words sinks in. For a moment, all you can do is stand there, trying to process what he’s saying. He’s not angry. He’s not freaking out. He’s—he’s relieved? And then the smile that spreads across his face is one you’ve never seen before. It’s so full of hope, of joy, that it almost knocks the wind out of you.

“You’re happy?” you whisper, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound steady.

Tony’s grin widens, and his eyes are shining with something so genuine, so raw, that it’s impossible for you to look away. “You have no idea,” he says, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted to be a dad for a while now. I’m happy, Y/N. I’m so happy.”

The air between you both changes instantly. The heavy weight that’s been pressing down on your chest—your fear, your anxiety—lifts just a little. You feel like you can breathe again, the walls you’d built around yourself crumbling with every word he speaks.

You look up at him, your own smile breaking through the uncertainty, and before you can stop it, the words spill out. “I think I’m happy too, Tony.”

Tony’s expression softens, his eyes softening as he reaches for you, pulling you into an embrace so tight it almost feels like he’s never letting you go. You bury your face in his chest, your heart racing with a mix of emotions—relief, happiness, fear, but most of all, love.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re doing this together. Okay?”

You nod against him, your arms wrapping around his waist as if you never want to let go. “Okay,” you whisper, a quiet laugh escaping you as the weight of the moment finally settles in. “Together.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe that no matter what comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

Later that night, after the quiet joy of shared smiles and whispered promises had filled the room, the weight of the moment seemed to settle in more than ever. The excitement, the relief, the joy of the baby—all of that felt real now. But there was still one thing neither of you had addressed. The question that hung in the air just as heavily as it always had: What are we?

You weren’t sure when it started. When the blurred lines between “friends with benefits” and something more had begun to form, but you knew it was there now. It had always been there, from the moment his lips had first brushed against yours, from the first time you’d shared something deeper than just casual touch. The emotional attachment had crept in slowly, quietly, and for a long time, you had tried to ignore it.

But now, with a baby on the way and the delicate balance of your secret relationship on the verge of shifting, there was no denying it any longer.

Tony had been unusually quiet after the rush of emotions had faded, after you both had settled into your shared space on the couch, your legs tangled beneath a blanket. You’d both exchanged small touches, playful nudges, and soft words of reassurance, but as the night wore on, the air between you thickened again, and you both knew what was coming.

Tony wasn’t the type to shy away from hard conversations, especially not when it came to the things that mattered most to him. And now, with the future of your relationship hanging in the balance, he had to know: where do you two stand?

“Y/N,” he starts, breaking the comfortable silence that had wrapped itself around the two of you, his voice low, hesitant. “We need to talk about… us.”

You glance up at him, your heart picking up speed at the seriousness in his tone. He’s not looking at you now, not like before, when his eyes had been filled with a bright, carefree joy. No, now his gaze is intense, studying you in a way that makes you feel exposed. Vulnerable.

“I know,” you reply softly, the words almost a whisper, your fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. You’re nervous now, your chest tight, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. After everything that’s happened, after the whirlwind of emotions surrounding the pregnancy, now comes the quiet storm that you’ve been avoiding. The talk about what your relationship is—what it could be.

Tony shifts, his body language tense. “We’ve been doing this for a while now—casual, no strings, no commitment. But now… this changes everything.” He lets out a breath, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to wipe away the uncertainty. “I can’t help but wonder if we’ve been fooling ourselves, pretending we’re just two people with a little arrangement. I need to know if you feel the same way I do.”

Your stomach flips at the sincerity in his voice. The seriousness of it all hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You’ve always been good at keeping things light, at pretending that this thing between you both was just about fun, just about the thrill of being together without the complications of a real relationship. But now, with the baby coming, everything has changed.

Tony continues, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know about you, but… I’m not just some guy you hook up with and then move on from. That’s not what I want anymore. I never thought I’d say this, but I—I want more than that with you. I think I’ve wanted more for a long time, even before we got here, and now… with the baby, I don’t know how to act like we’re just two friends. I can’t.”

You swallow, the knot in your throat tightening, making it harder to speak. You want to say the right thing, but you don’t even know what that is anymore. For so long, you’ve kept the walls up, kept yourself detached from him, from the idea of ever needing more than just him in your bed, in your life.

But now, after everything that’s happened—the broken condom, the shock of the pregnancy test, the tenderness of his touch, the way he looks at you now—you can’t pretend anymore. You know what you feel. You’ve known for a while.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. You can’t stop the truth from slipping out, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself be honest with him. “I’ve been so scared, Tony. I was scared to let myself feel more than just… this. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. I didn’t want to fall for you, but I did. And now, with this… I don’t know what that means for us.”

He leans in, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee, grounding you with the warmth of his touch. “It means we figure it out. Together.”

You meet his gaze then, really look at him, and for the first time since all of this started, you feel the fear melt away, replaced by something that feels like hope, like relief. Maybe it’s too soon to figure everything out—maybe the fear will still be there tomorrow, when you wake up and face the reality of being parents together. But right now, in this moment, you realize that whatever comes next, you’re not alone.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than this,” Tony murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want us, Y/N. I want this—whatever it is—if it’s with you.”

Tears well in your eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. “Are you sure? Because, Tony, this is… a lot. We’re talking about everything changing. Our whole lives—”

“I know,” he interrupts, cutting you off softly. “But that’s the thing, Y/N. It’s supposed to change. It’s supposed to be big. And it’s gonna be scary. But I’d rather be scared with you than pretend we’re okay with something less.”

You smile, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks, but they’re not tears of fear anymore. They’re tears of relief, of joy. “I feel the same,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anything else either. I want us.”

The air shifts around you both. The weight of everything that’s been left unsaid, the uncertainty, the fear, all of it starts to dissipate in the wake of your words. In the silence that follows, there’s a quiet understanding that passes between you, something unspoken but deep. You’re not just two friends anymore. You’re something more. Something real. Something that might still be terrifying, but you’re willing to take that step together.

Tony leans in, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “We’re gonna figure this out, Y/N. We’ll do it together, okay? All of it. No more running from it. No more pretending.”

You nod, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the peace of knowing that he feels the same way. For the first time, you don’t feel the need to guard yourself, to hold back. Whatever happens next, you know you’ll face it with him by your side.

And for the first time in months, you allow yourself to feel the hope that the future might not be so terrifying after all.

“Together,” you whisper back, your voice full of resolve.

“Together,” Tony agrees, his smile softening as he leans back into the couch beside you. You both sit there for a long moment, the world outside forgotten, the future uncertain but no longer so intimidating. With each other, you feel ready for whatever comes next.

The decision to tell the Avengers comes surprisingly easy, though Tony initially overcomplicates it—as is his style. He drafts no fewer than six different ways to break the news, each one more elaborate than the last, from a staged press conference to a spontaneous "Oops, did we drop a clue?" moment during dinner. Ultimately, it’s you who insists on something simple: just sitting everyone down and saying it outright.

The team gathers in the common area after a particularly grueling mission briefing. Steve sits on one side, arms crossed in casual curiosity, while Natasha and Clint exchange knowing looks, as if they’ve already pieced together whatever you’re about to say. Thor leans back with an air of amused disinterest, and Bruce glances between you and Tony with a subtle frown, clearly trying to deduce what’s happening.

Tony clears his throat, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets—a nervous habit you’ve grown to recognize. You sit beside him, trying not to laugh at the way he fidgets like a kid preparing to confess he’s broken something.

“So,” Tony begins, his voice smooth but a little too loud, “we’ve got some news. Something big, something life-altering. Not world-ending, don’t worry—though it is arguably more exciting than an alien invasion or a helicarrier falling out of the sky.”

“Get to the point,” Natasha cuts in, raising an eyebrow, though her smirk betrays her amusement.

Tony glances at you, and you take his hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. You look at the group, your heart racing but a soft smile playing on your lips. “We’re together,” you say simply, “and… we’re having a baby.”

The room falls silent for a beat, and then chaos ensues.

Clint immediately lets out a loud, theatrical “Called it!” while Thor booms a congratulatory cheer, clapping Tony on the back so hard he almost topples forward. Natasha simply smirks, her sharp eyes flickering with something close to approval. Steve blinks once, then twice, before nodding with a small smile. “Well,” he says, “it’s about time.”

Bruce, for his part, is the most measured. “Congratulations,” he says warmly, his expression soft as he looks between the two of you. “That’s… big news. You’ll both be great parents.”

Tony, who thrives on reactions, looks around at the mix of responses, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Wait, that’s it? No one’s shocked? No dramatic gasps? No ‘Tony Stark, settling down, what has the world come to?’”

Natasha tilts her head. “We’re not blind, Tony.”

“And you’re not exactly subtle,” Clint adds with a laugh. “The sneaking around was cute at first, but come on. The looks? The way you guys act around each other? It was only a matter of time.”

You laugh, leaning into Tony’s side as he rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t care if they saw it coming—he only cares that you’re here, by his side, sharing this moment with him.

As the weeks pass and your belly starts to grow, Tony’s excitement becomes something of a full-time personality trait. He’s protective in a way that sometimes makes you laugh and sometimes makes you roll your eyes—like when he insists on scanning the ingredients of every snack you eat or hovering too closely while you climb the stairs.

“Tony, I’m pregnant, not fragile,” you remind him one evening when he’s fussing over your attempt to carry a laundry basket up from the bedroom.

“Yeah, well, you’re carrying my kid,” he retorts, taking the basket from your hands with a flourish. “And I’m not taking any chances.”

But it’s not just the protectiveness. There’s something else, something deeper. Every day, he seems more in love—not just with you, but with the idea of the life you’re building together. He tells you often how beautiful you are, how the so-called “pregnancy glow” makes you shine brighter than any reactor core he’s ever built. And when he’s not busy marveling at you, he’s completely, utterly enchanted by the baby growing inside you.

Tony spends hours talking to your belly, as if the baby can already hear and understand him. He lays his head against your stomach whenever he can, his voice soft and full of wonder as he murmurs stories about the world, about your life together, about the adventures waiting for the little one.

“You know,” he says one evening, his hand resting gently on your belly as he leans in close, “you’ve got it pretty good in there, kid. Mom’s amazing. She’s brilliant, and funny, and stubborn as hell—you’ll learn that soon enough. And me? Well, I’m not so bad either. We’re gonna be a great team, the three of us.”

You watch him, your heart swelling at the sight of the man who, not so long ago, had been the epitome of carefree, refusing to be tied down. Now, he’s the man who can’t wait to be a dad, who looks at you like you’re his entire world.

“I think they’ll be lucky to have you,” you say softly, running your fingers through his hair as he continues to talk to your belly.

Tony looks up at you, his expression tender. “Nah,” he replies, his voice teasing but warm. “They’ll be lucky to have you. I’m just along for the ride.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him, and he smiles against your lips, his hand never leaving your belly. Moments like this are becoming your new normal—quiet, intimate, filled with the kind of love that feels like it’s been there all along, waiting for the right time to bloom.

As the baby kicks for the first time a few weeks later, Tony’s excitement is nothing short of infectious. He whoops loudly, startling you for a moment before his hand immediately presses against your stomach again, his grin wide and boyish.

“Did you feel that?” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

You nod, tears springing to your eyes as you smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, your hand covering his. “I felt it.”

“That’s my kid,” he says proudly, leaning down to kiss your belly. “Already making an entrance.”

You can’t help but laugh, your heart full to bursting. In moments like this, it’s hard to remember why you ever doubted this—why you ever doubted him. Tony Stark, for all his flaws, is everything you never knew you needed. And now, as you prepare to welcome the biggest adventure of your lives together, you know one thing for sure: you’re in this together, every step of the way.

[clairedaring]

Just having you from now on, no matter what challenges we face, I won’t be afraid. As long as we hold hands and stay by each other’s side, that's enough. Whether it’s months or years, however long it takes. I promise to have you by my side always. Please believe me, I won’t disappoint you. No worry. Because since I met you, everything has changed. It’s not the same anymore. Because I like driving slowly, So I can have you sitting next to me for a long time. With us together along the way. Let's take it slow. No matter how far the road ahead may be. Because this is the destination—having you close by. Just having you here, I don’t need anything or anyone else. No need to rush, no need to hurry anywhere, Just talking, just chatting like this together.

KIN - อยากมีเธอใกล้ๆ Feat. TAD ATLAS

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cradle Song.

Spencer Reid x Pregnant!reader

Summary: The situation is complicated when Spencer is trapped in a lab with anthrax and worried about communicating with you and his future child one last time.

Words: 2,4k.

TW: mentions of death, therapy. spoilers for s4 e24 ("amplification"). anthrax. established relationship. angst with a open ending. implication that the baby is a girl. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've seen a lot of sad videos of Spencer with kids, so I had to do this to calm my brain. It's dramatic, but if you've read me before, you know how I am (an extra dramatic and a little cruel girl).

Update: I wrote this after posting my first two one shots here (several months ago), and now I just found the uncorrected text and decided to improve it for posting lol for you to mentally decide if it's a happy or sad ending, because I could never write one that I really liked.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Your phone rang somewhere in the room, but you had no idea where. In the distance, you could hear the classical symphony by Johannes Brahms that your boyfriend had chosen especially for you, with the excuse that it would calm you and the baby every time it played.

Unfortunately, this time it wasn't helping to calm you down.

After tossing and turning around the room several times, you sat up in bed, completely exhausted and hopeless. That's when you felt the noise nearby and realized that the phone under your pillow was vibrating nonstop. You were about to snort with stress from being so distracted lately, but an automatic smile appeared on your face when you saw that it was a call from Spencer. You hadn't heard from him in several hours, the last being his usual call to wish you a good morning every time he was away on a case.

“I think I'd lose my head if I didn't have it attached to my neck.” Was the first thing you said as you tried to tuck your pillow behind your neck to make yourself more comfortable.

“You've lost your phone again.” You heard him let out a small, weak laugh, followed by a cough that caught your attention and made you frown. “Sorry, I got stuck.” He quickly excused himself.

“Are you okay?”

In response to your question, he looked around the lab where he was confined, focusing on the broken vial of anthrax on the floor that had caused all his problems so far. Reid didn't know how to explain that an ordinary case had turned into a national problem that was taking over his life and future moments with you with every passing second.

And he certainly knew even less how to tell you that this would probably be the last time you would hear from him if the team didn't find a cure soon.

“I'm fine.” He lied immediately, feeling his breathing getting harder and harder. “Really, love.” He tried to reassure you, but he lost his balance and leaned heavily on the counter, his free hand gripping it hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

All you had to do was hear him call you that and your whole world would light up, you could even feel the baby in your belly kicking at the sound of his voice. You smiled as you realized that you were both happy to hear from Spencer after not seeing him for most of the day due to the demands of his job.

Although you've never said it out loud for fear of making him feel guilty, you miss him excessively, and you're always trying to multitask and be productive, so you don't think as much about how much you need him by your side. Especially when dinner time comes and his seat next to you is empty, or when night comes and his side of the bed is cold.

Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, but you seemed to have a stronger need for him than ever.

“And how did you feel today? How are my girls? Did she kick a lot today?” The usual questions he asked you every time he was on a long case began to appear. “I need to hear everything.”

“She just kicks a lot when she listens to you and you know it.” You replied, stroking your belly out of laziness. “She’s definitely a daddy's little princess.”

The lump in his throat and all of his fears became more intense and uncontrollable. The tears he had tried to keep from escaping to stay strong and focused began to flow unchecked down his cheeks. Hearing you talk like that, knowing it might be the last time, was killing him much faster than the anthrax itself.

“And what are you doing? All your agent stuff?” You spoke again at his silence, trying to ignore the bad feeling something was giving you. “Are you coming home soon?”

“I don't think that's possible, love.” He replied quickly, his voice hoarse and raspy, the lie slipping from his lips almost too easily. “I'm doing some paperwork, it'll take some time.”

It was the second time he had called you by that nickname in just a few minutes. Something seemed a little off, as he only used it when he wanted to calm you down. You knew him too well to miss it.

“Oh, okay.” You said it in a way that showed you were a little disappointed.

Spencer was about to try to comfort you when he suddenly felt the cough return to his throat and he put a hand over his mouth to stop it. It was no use, the cough shook his whole body, spinning him around and making him pant in between. He tried to cover the phone with his hand so that the sounds coming out of his mouth would not be heard, but it was useless. The hacking cough seemed to tear at his lungs, leaving him breathless, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, and he could only hope you didn't hear it, because the last thing he wanted to do was worry you. He knew it would hurt you and the baby.

“Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should drink some water. It sounds pretty bad.”

He tried to answer you right away, but the cough took over and prevented him from speaking. He gripped the phone tightly, struggling to breathe, trying to force his lungs to stop spasming. And when he finally stopped coughing, he managed to speak, his voice cracking and rather hoarse.

“Yes, I'm fine. It's probably just a cold.” He lied again, breathing shakily. “But it’s nothing so bad.”

“Take care of yourself, don't let it get worse.”

If only you knew that there was no way to make it worse, that it was already at its worst point and unlikely to improve.

“I will, don't worry.” He tries to sound convincing, but his voice comes out rough and raw, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coughing again. “Just focus on you and the baby, okay? I'll be fine.”

He spoke again so quickly that it was difficult to think of an appropriate response.

“Could you do something for me, love?”

“Of course, I'll do whatever you need.” You reply, feeling a little perplexed by the urgency in his voice.

There was a long, awkward silence after you answered, and you could feel your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. You had a feeling that Spencer was holding something back from you, and the thought of what it could be made your left leg start to twitch nervously. You didn't even bother trying to make yourself more comfortable in bed.

“Go to my part of the closet, to the top drawer. Open it and take out a box next to the socks.” Finally he spoke and began to give you instructions, which you followed as best you could. “Let me know when you have it, carefully. Don't rush or-”

“I've already got it.” You interjected.

“That was quick.” You heard the surprise in his voice as you looked at the box, curious to know what was inside, after having seen it several times and thinking it was just more socks.

You smiled before speaking again. “What should I do with this, love?”

The mere word coming out of your mouth made him tremble.

Love. Love. Love.

He was your love and you were his. He refused to accept that this would be completely shattered in a matter of minutes if he could not find a way to keep his eyes open and his heart still pumping blood.

“I need you to open it, but be careful. Take your time and don't rush. Don't make any sudden movements.” He said, trying to relax so that when he spoke again his voice would be calmer, softer. “And once you open it, I want you to imagine that I'm there with you, okay?”

You couldn't help but open the box quickly, even though you were careful. You were surprised to find a bunch of envelopes and papers inside. You left them on the bed, wondering what they were about. It had been five months since you knew you were pregnant, and all the envelopes and papers were the same age according to the dates in the top corner.

“Have you seen it yet?” Spencer asked.

“I'm sorry, I don't understand, could you explain what this is?” You asked, carefully running your hand through the neatly organized papers on the bed.

“Could you close your eyes and imagine I'm with you, like I told you before?” He asked, trying to keep a neutral tone as you complied with his request.

He needed you to see him there with you, he needed to say goodbye and at least touch you one last time.

“That's what I'm doing. I'm holding your hand right now.” You said with a small smile, feeling the warmth.

It was like feeling an automatic medicine with your name on it flow through his system and relieve a few aches and pains. His hands stopped shaking automatically as he imagined himself holding yours again.

“Okay…they are notes and letters.” His voice was soft, the intensity of his heartbeat gradually increasing as he remembered each time he wrote those words to you. “I started writing them when we found out you were pregnant. They're for our baby.”

He still remembered the day he found out you were expecting a baby, his baby. He recalled how he felt his whole world stop and turn a different color, his hand sliding down to your stomach, and his breath hitching in his chest as he held your face in his hands and kissed you lovingly, overwhelmed with joy and so in love that he hadn't known what to do with his own feelings.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I...I found myself writing frequently and my therapist said it was fine…I was inspired to write about my feelings for you and our baby."

From the moment he revealed to you that he had resumed therapy with the goal of healing the wounds of childhood and becoming the father he never had, it was clear that his dedication surpassed any commitment. Now you just added to the list of reasons why he was already an exemplary father, one that any child would be lucky to have.

“Spencer, this is so sweet.” You said, completely moved and on the verge of tears, as you noticed all the dedication I had put into each and every piece of paper. “Why didn't you tell me this before?”

He felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on him at that moment. It was so hard to explain, to tell you that every thought and every dream he'd ever had included you and the baby now growing in your belly, and his great fear of not being able to be there for you someday.

“I-” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I just wanted you to know now how much you mean to me and how blessed I am that you gave this to me. I've spent the last few months trying to even talk to some kind of God, and I don't even know if exist...” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, the words lost somewhere in his throat, making it burn and hurt. “I just...I need the baby to know what you and her mean to me, how I see you, how I feel when I wake up next to you. What I want, what I dream for her, what...”

I want to marry you.

The thought almost escaped his lips, his aching heart pounding hard against his aching chest. He felt as if a pair of strong hands were strangling him.

“I don't understand...Tell me what's going on.” You interrupted him with a shaking voice, knowing that there was definitely something more to all of this.

Oh, how you know him and his big, messy, troubled brain.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, though you couldn't see it, knowing that you already read him like an open book.

“Nothing...Nothing's wrong, love, just...” He tried to breathe deeply through the phone, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind racing too fast. “I love you so much. Don't forget that, okay?”

“Spencer-”

He always loved your voice calling his name, and now, in his weak, tired, fearful state, he couldn't stop the words from pouring out of his mouth.

“I want you to know that you'll be okay, that she'll be okay, that everything will be okay, and that I love you. I love you both very much. Please, please...” He kept going. He knew he was babbling, but he couldn't stop. His mind was racing, and his words came out like a confession.

He was an expert profiler, a genius with an eidetic memory and a sharp mind, but at that moment, with his body weakened and his head spinning, he found himself unable to contain himself. He was exposed, open, and experiencing discomfort. All of the things he wanted to tell you, all of the questions he wanted to ask, and all of the concerns, worries, and thoughts in his mind came pouring out, like a dam breaking. He sensed that you could feel it through the line, and he realized that he could no longer deny it any longer.

“I love you. I have to go now.”

“Wait.”

You had a feeling something wasn't quite right, and those letters seemed to confirm your suspicions. They were a precautionary measure, a way of ensuring that everything would be taken care of in case something happened to him.

“I have to go, I'm...I'm busy, love.” He tried to sound convincing, and he knew he was failing miserably, but if he stayed a moment longer, he would continue to talk and confess more. “I love you both.”

“We love you too.”

If he wasn't already weak and trembling, hearing your voice telling him that you loved him, in that soft tone, would have made him fall to the floor again. He closed his eyes again and leaned against the wall, his own trembling hand going to cover his mouth so he wouldn't say more, because he would tell you everything if you kept talking in that sweet tone.

He wasn't ready to say goodbye.

So it was that he thought of you and your kind way of loving him before he felt his head hit the floor and his eyes close.

[st4rbe0m]

PAIRING ▸ Nishimura Riki x fem!reader

SUMMARY ▸"Am I dating Y/N L/N? No thanks, I'd rather choke." Or in which you're clearly using some sort of spell to entice Riki, because why on earth would he suddenly start feeling this way about you?

GENRE ▸one-sided enemies to lovers, highschool au, she fell first but he fell harder, angst (lots of it), slow-ish burn.

WARNINGS ▸ swearing, featuring Eunchae from LeSserafim as your best friend and some additional cameos by other idols, some of dickish behaviour from Riki at the start :(, kissing, mentions of curses, occults knowledge, spells and witchcraft.

WC ▸ 7.1K

A/N ▸ Thank you for the immense support for this on the teaser!! I hope this lives up to your expectations, and I hope you guys enjoy the rest of my work as well :)

PLAYLIST ▸ Voodoo Doll by 5 Seconds of Summer, Kiss Me Kiss Me by 5 Seconds of Summer, Brought the Heat Back by Enhypen, Stockholm Syndrome by One Direction

masterlist

The air is a sweet smelling summer type, the day you first meet Nishimura Riki. He's a scrawny little thing of twig arms and downcast, shy eyes. Having moved to Korea from Japan only barely a month back, the number of words he can say in this newfound land in the foreign language can be counted on one hand. And this poses a problem to him right now, considering how his older sister had already gone off on her own despite their mother's strict orders to stay together at all times. You spot the boy, a sprightly little thing yourself, and the first thing you notice is his eyes. The most gorgeous, mesmerizing eyes. They looked like the black beetles you saw in the spring - lazing on the dark brown tree trunks, absolutely fascinating and captivating.

Nishimura Riki is six years old and scared. He's at a playground with kids his age, but he feels like an alien in his own skin. They're all either playing in groups or duos - but no dice for singles. It's times like this that makes him want to clutch on to the fabric of his mother's dress and be whisked away to safety. A place where he doesn't feel so out of place. His soft, trembling body stills in a bit of surprise as a gentle tap knocks on his shoulder, ever so slightly. Turning around fearful of being picked on, he only comes face to face with a girl. You're looking straight at him with owlish, unblinking eyes that make Riki shiver in your gaze - feeling smaller and smaller than before. He doesn't like how you're looking at him, not in the slightest. "Hi there! I'm Y/N L/N. Are you new here?" You're quite articulate for a kid, he thinks, as if he's not one himself. He's barely managed to string together the meaning of what you said through his broken understanding of the language, but it's the general environment about you that makes him hesitate. His lack of a response doesn't deter you apparently, as suddenly you're latching on to his wrist, trying to pull him to the sand pit, babbling on and on about being his new friend and offering to show him around town. He doesn't know how to get out of your vice-like grip, but he doesn't mind your company either. But it's just all too much. There's too many things going on around him, and you're too loud.

Suddenly, he's wrenching his hand out of yours, a scowl on his youthful features. It's a frown directed right at you like a bullet, but it leaves you unscathed. You still look at him with a complete look of innocence, completely boring into his own eyes. There's something about the way you look at him, and he hates it. He notices the way you hold no precise expression on your face, only a peaceful and serene look coupled with the way one would gaze when they felt curious and fascinated. He decides at that moment, with all the iron resolve of a six year old boy, that he hated this girl. He hated you and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.

But this was in no way similar to the way you were feeling currently. With the way that inky void in his eyes were pulling you in like a siren song, you decided that you loved Nishimura Riki. 

11 years later

"Riki! Riki!". Your chants are loud even amongst the bustling crowd of attendees, all mingling about on the bleachers, eyes trained on the orange basketball as the squeaking sound of shoes against the polished wooden floor accentuated the tension of this cut-throat game. Jersey number 9, tallest on the team and jet black hair that had everyone reeling in his subtle aura, Riki's eyes are piercing as his focus solely stays on two things - the first being how to get past the rival team's defense, and the second being how annoying your cheering was to him.

Their opposing team is not letting them cut through this bottle neck tie easily, and the red timer with its robotic, digital numbers clocking down to the game's end was not really helping either. It was right now, or never. And Riki never let a game get to the tie-breaker, ever. He's quick and sharp witted, and he's got the athletic skill to get past the crowding defense team, and with a crisp swish of the white net hanging on the post, the ball is swiftly sent through the basket. The whistle is loud, but the rest of his teammates are louder, wasting no time in running on the court to aggressively smother their prodigal player in affection and sweat, with Riki glaring away at them in faux irritation, but clearly preening in their pride. This was an important game after all, because it would be the game that would help team captain, Lee Heesung, who was graduating this spring, to choose the next in line to his legacy. And anyone with two eyes, who wasn't even on the team could easily say it belonged to Riki.

Your voice is back, louder again this time, and it has Riki grimacing amongst the celebrations, and Sunoo and Taki, his friends who had descended from the stands themselves, gave each other a knowing look of what was about to occur.

You're singing praises and it has him glowing, regardless of the frown marrying his sharp features. "God, that was so cool! You're so, so tall, it must have been an advantage for sure, but wow I mean that basket? Crazy!"

He's still glaring at you and his teammates have wry smiles on their faces. Your praises quieten down when you, and Riki, notice Lee Heesung walking over to Riki with a championing grin that only means one thing. Ushering Riki away, you just gazed at him at raw adoration as the boy's face lit up with the news Heesung was breaking him.

"By the way dude, are you dating that girl there? Y/N L/N?"

The question has him coughing slightly from the water he was chugging down. Sunoo and Taki are cackling violently at his expression, like Heesung had performed the most blasphemous act in front of him. "Heesung, what the hell dude. I'm not dating her, at all. I'll only date Y/N when pigs start flying."

He looks back to where you stood before, now gone from that spot. You always waited a bit before you left, usually, trying to catch him and make conversation with him, so this was new. A different kind of feeling he wasn't sure he was used to. It was strange, how he felt a bit different from the absence of you.

"Look, oh my god!" Taki cries out, pointing vaguely at the air. "What?" "I just saw a pig fly." “Shut the fuck up man.”

You were a curse sent from hell to torment him, that much was sure. He wasn’t sure what penance he was due to pay in this life for his previous actions that caused you to appear in his life, considering how since that moment on the playground, you’ve done nothing to actually make his life any better. And while he was explaining this very situation to Heesung, who was now sporting an amused grin at the way the normally nonchalant Riki’s mouth seemed to fly a mile a minute, Sunoo interrupted with a gasp at a particularly harsh tease. “She isn’t even doing anything bad you prick! I’d kill to have someone crush on me that long!”

“Oh you can have her then, Sun. I do not want to see her in my life ever again once we’re out of here.” He huffs.

The various examples of the ways you’d managed to make things bad for him seemed to resurface to his mind almost immediately, souring his mood. Like when in middle school, when he bagged the hottest girl of their grade, Choi Ri-ah, to go out with him. It was magical to Riki, that eighth grade relationship - mainly because him being in it meant having you off his back. Your displeasure with his newfound relationship status was not a secret either, no your distaste was very clear, with the way you’d frown when they would walk in the hallways together holding hands, which in eighth grade, was a very big deal. It didn’t help that Ri-ah was also your quote unquote, sworn enemy. The two of you had hated each other's guts since almost preschool, and the sickening punch in the stomach was how she’d managed to be with the only guy you’d ever loved. But Riki didn’t know any of that. And frankly, he didn’t care much about his and Ri-ah’s conversations or dates, where he would nod along as she talked his ears off about getting new earrings or the summer holiday her father was planning, where she was going to get the most outrageous tan. Sure, he liked her. But he liked not hearing your voice constantly bugging him more. 

“Dude she didn’t end your relationship with Ri-ah! Ri-ah was already going after another guy from that prep school, she just needed an excuse to end the relationship and made Y/N the scapegoat.” Taki told him exasperatedly, which just fell on deaf ears, because Riki was still convinced that you were the reason for the demise of his juvenile dating plan. Ri-ah had broken up with him seemingly out of the blue, over text, claiming that she felt uncomfortable dating a boy who was so coveted by another girl. And when fourteen year old Riki read that heartbreaking message curled up in his duvet at 10PM on a Tuesday, he just felt a bitter pill of hatred for you. Nothing had changed in the six years since that fateful meeting at the playground, no. You still made Riki shudder.

“I hate Y/N L/N. I wish she just left my life, because she’s what makes it worse.”

“He’s absolutely phenomenal.” You breathe out in a sigh, full of awe as you watch Riki skirt across the court with lightning speed. The dreamy looks and the lovestruck sounds was like routine to Eunchae, who had honestly even given up on rolling her eyes at you, because with the way she’d spent the last 10 years doing the same, she was afraid her eyes would get stuck at the back of the skull due to routine. It was truly a wonder how you hadn’t given up immediately after the first few tries - when he was extremely stubborn in denouncing the “Y/N’s boyfriend” title he’d earned. But you had your justification ready to go - that he never outright rejected you. Sure, he politely declined some invitations, but never a word against your feelings as such. It still raised the question, as to how you could chase a guy around this long. Because to you, the reason was quite fundamental - his eyes were still beautiful, and most importantly, they held no hate. Not an ounce of it, no matter how hard he tried to emulate it, which gave you hope. 

Unfortunately hope was a wonderful thing for sure, but also dangerous. It was quite the cycle you’d found yourself stuck in, and you weren’t honestly sure how long you could afford to linger as nothing but a mandatory footnote to him. It was eating away at you. But hope, hope made you hold on.

Only Eunchae knew about the firm decision you’d taken last night. After all, she was your closest friend. And she even held you, as you solemnly promised to yourself, on the eve of the 11th anniversary of the day you first met Riki, to leave him behind forever, if there wasn’t any improvement in his behavior, or general perception of you. It was shocking, and honestly a huge decision. But firm in its promise, that last hook of hope would be gone soon by tomorrow. 

“You know he ignored you again, right?” Eunchae points out for the nth time, and like always that doesn’t deter you, as you gaze lovingly upon where the soon-to-be former captain Heesung was talking to Riki about leading the team, a position quite coveted which you were very proud of Riki for acquiring. The pride that swelled in your heart was immense, but the cold words you heard Riki utter were like a small pin-prick on your heart. He was tense from the game, and let’s be honest, you’d always managed to survive the weight of his brash words. But why did this one hurt so much? Were you reaching your breaking point, finally? No wonder you’d tipped and already decided to get over him last night.

Snapping yourself out of these negative emotions, you decided to busy yourself a bit away from the bleachers and Heesung and Riki, focusing on Eunchae as she tried to decide where to grab a snack before you both went off to your own houses. 

“I hate Y/N L/N. I wish she just left my life, because she’s what makes it worse.”

The sound of his voice has always been melodious to you. It had a deep timbre and was almost soothing. But right now, you felt anything far from soothed. Your throat was closing up into a lump, and you huffed slightly as you blinked away tears. Eunchae’s eyes were blown wide in shock, and were slowly beginning to narrow in anger. Your movements were almost automatic as your hand reached out to stop Eunchae from storming out from your hiding spots’, the fuming girl looking like she was ready to punch Nishimura across the face immediately. The tears were burning into your lower lash line like furious embarrassment, making you more and more smaller, wishing now more than ever that the ground swallowed you whole. You kept telling yourself over and over again, that this wasn’t the first time you’d heard words of this type uttered against you by him. But it was like a disenchanting spell on you, the way a veil lifted off your eyes. A crack in the rose tinted looking-glass you always stared at him through. 

“Y/N”, Eunchae’s voice is a careful whisper, sensing your vulnerability as your best friend. She knew you long enough to tell that those extremely cruel, mean words did more than just a regular rebound on your thick skin. She was cooling down in an attempt to comfort you, rubbing your arm in support. Your lower lip was wobbling, and you felt like someone had slapped you hard across the cheek. You weren’t that annoying to put up with, were you?

Your heart felt stomped on at that point, and you wanted nothing more than to get away. As shocking as it was, you couldn’t stomach being around Riki right now, and hastily grabbing Eunchae and making a beeline towards the exit, your downtrodden expression morphed to anger as your shoulder harshly bumped against Riki’s, who’s expression you couldn’t tell with the way you could only see red. Your decision was ironclad now, if it wasn’t firm already. This was the moment you’d decided to get over Nishimura Riki. 

The touch of your shoulder against his was like a static current being passed through his skin, in the most pleasant way possible. Like he craved it. Riki was baffled, and even more so when he realized it was you, and your usually ever-present adoration from him being blatantly missing, even in this short interaction, if it even be called that. He felt a twinge of concern for you, which he suppressed easily. This was the Y/N he was talking about. Any emotion for you rather than disgust? No thank you!

However, it was strange. For the first time in your life, you felt almost nothing for Nishimura Riki. And for the first time in his life, he felt something for you. 

It’s been a week since the fateful basketball game. You’ve been through the stages of grief quite quickly, storming through each of them with Eunchae helping you along, although your headstrong need to get better did worry her, that you weren’t actually processing your pain to heal. But to hell with all that. No, you wanted to eviscerate any remaining thought of Riki from your head immediately. The school day seems to be quite regular, with spring break just a mere two weeks away, that had people buzzing with low energy in the hallways, all in the state of deciding their spring break plans. Your spring break plans weren’t anything fancy, or anything at all rather - with the main idea being that you’d while away the time with your best friend, doing all the fun activities you could possibly do. And a break that you were sure would be the final nail in the coffin that contained the corpse of your feelings for Riki, the dark haired boy who up till now kept an iron grip on your heart.

The boy in question, like you, had also spent the previous week raging through some emotions. But in his case, rather he found them very confusing and very out of character. Of course, he wasn’t self actualised enough to work through them, and that led him to create a stubborn mindspace - that you, Y/N L/N were messing with his head by purposely ignoring him. He just couldn’t stop thinking about you, your presence and the recent lack of. Your voice wasn’t greeting him in the homeroom every morning anymore, and it was a change many had noticed, but not yet commented on. He found this pit in his stomach from the first week, the immediate day after the match, when he saw you sitting in class - head bent, hair falling over your face messily. And for a fleeting second, his hand had to fight off the urge to get up and brush them away. Your eyes looked slightly swollen, with a faint bloodshot look, like you’d spent the night crying rather than sleeping. It made his chest ache and his head spin slightly. What the hell? When the hell did he feel sorry for Y/N L/N? When the hell did he feel anything for Y/N L/N?

That was about three days ago, and that same pit in his stomach has been growing ever since. He, for whatever reason, missed you. Instead of coming face to face with this fact, he turned his back on it, and it was killing him. Pinpricks of pain would shoot through him whenever he noticed you deliberately changing your path on noticing him walk towards your way. God, it’s like he was a hostage to your feelings all these years, and automatically he felt guilty of thinking about you that way. You just liked him right? Why was he even so rude to you?

His behavior, and his demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by all of his friends, even the basketball team, who were more than aware of your absence at practice anymore. Whatever you were doing to remove Riki from your life might be working in your favor, but it was ruining him. 

His brain felt like someone was swirling its contents around with a spatula, making a mess of his thoughts and his emotions. He hadn’t wasted a moment in spilling his dilemma to Sunoo, and invariably the guys he was closest to on the basketball team - Jake, Sunghoon, Jay and Heesung. The team itself were all in all pretty much aware of how the youngest was going through quite the mind-boggling series of epiphanies (if it could even be called that. Jay liked to refer to it as just a dumbass waking up from his stupidity sleep). 

“Dude, I just don’t know anymore. Her not being there is very odd to me? I just can’t get used to it.” Riki sighs, shaking his head as he thumbs around his packet of Cheetos, slumping against the cafeteria wall, while the rest of his group gathered around him like a pack, eagerly listening in. “But isn’t that what you wanted? So there must be something else then? Maybe you didn’t mind her as much as you let on?” Jake inquired, his head tilting like a confused puppy. That had Riki scratching his head again. He saw you this morning by your locker. You were catching up with Eunchae, both of you laughing boldly to whatever Eunchae had just said, and there was a glow on your face as your eyes crinkled in amusement, which made a heartbeat skip in his chest. He was staring longingly at you, and it seemed like you noticed, because your eyes met his in scrutiny - your single glance making him feel like that six year old at the playground again. 

When you were in freshman year, you had developed a fascination with reading horror novels and mangas and watching horror movies very frequently. Something about spirits and the occult had interested you very much, and many people around you knew about this hobby of yours. If anyone had any doubts about the intricacies of rituals and possessions, spells and witchcraft, they’d just go to you. Right now, Riki thinks that’s exactly what’s happening to him - you’d used your occult knowledge to put a spell on him. Of course, he knew how ridiculous he sounded. But he felt like he was bound to you, and couldn’t shake off your spell no matter how much he tried. And it was purely on him. This was just all so,so confusing, which he decided not to voice out to his friends until he himself had gotten a grip on what was happening to him. How he kept thinking about your little habits. Day before yesterday, he found himself soaked in sweat and thirsty beyond comparison after practice. Parched and defeated, he stumbled along to the locker room to find his flavored water that one of his teammates usually kept in his locker for him, only to come up empty handed. 

“Jake, have you seen my flavored water? I figured you usually put one in my locker.” He asked nonchalantly, only to find Jake, and the rest of the team that entered the room in a state of sly smiles, stifled giggles and shock. 

“Dude, we never did any of that. Y/N did that, she’d purchase the fancy water for you and put it in your locker before we came for practice.” 

It made him feel different. He was blinking slow, and his brain was sluggish. You did that for him? God, you were so sweet, weren’t you. He already felt a bit sad about not seeing your bright grin that you directed to him in the morning (even though he always dismissed it with ignorance), but this was the cherry on top. You had loved him to death, and now he was a dead man walking without you. 

“He looked at you, you know.” Eunchae is careful in her observation, but she knows you noticed too. Your pupils seem narrowed, and your lips are drawn in a tight line as you contemplate that look he gave you. You still couldn’t fight off the feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you met his eyes - those gorgeous, beetle-black eyes that had a magnetic pull to them. But within the haze of your flusteredness, you’d managed to catch the slight look of misery in them. He was looking at you like he was an injured puppy, lost without you. But your resolve was stronger. With the utmost focus, you managed to drive away the maddening thoughts of the possibility of him missing you away, and walked away with Eunchae. 

Over the weekend, Riki had realized that being away from you was driving him insane. So on Monday, he was pulling his chair close to yours in the classroom, the metallic screech against the wooden flooring making everyone turn their heads to the scene, their eyes widening in shock at what was unfolding in front of their eyes. How on Earth was Nishimura Riki sitting next to Y/N L/N? Your thoughts were also very similar to the rest of your classmates, because what was happening right now? Riki, the boy you’d put your heart dangerously on the line for was right here, sitting next to you. His movements were awkward and he was fiddling with his fingers while casting shy glances towards you, reminding you of the scared six year old version of him you’d met at the playground. There is a faint red crawling up his pale ears, and he clears his throat roughly, before saying “Is it alright if I sit here?”

Your all consuming feelings seemed to come back like a crashing wave on the shore the moment he uttered those words to you, and you just nodded wordlessly, too shocked to say anything.

You look too pretty this morning, and it’s messing with his head. Riki’s beating himself up internally, because this wouldn’t be so difficult if you weren’t so goddamn beautiful for some reason. He nods when you do, and then gets to his work. His proximity feels dizzying to you, and the scent of his cologne makes it harder for you to focus on the work in front of you. He’s biting into his lip hard, to suppress the urge to just hold your hand. The smell of your shampoo, the warmth of your thigh being barely centimeters next to you. You’re both so horribly blind and it is just painful to you both, unbeknownst to each of you. 

Nishimura Riki liked you. He really, really liked you. And as he turned his head to see your face, accented by the golden sunlight and eyes sparkling like dewdrops in the early morning, he knew that even if he wanted to run, he couldn't. He was trapped under your spell, and the thought of it made him smile. 

The following days are filled with such odd interactions with Riki. He always found an excuse to find you first in classrooms, or walk you to the cafeteria. You suddenly found yourself back at basketball practices again, but this time forcefully dragged to the court by Riki, and an amused Eunchae in tow. He was there to offer you snacks and drinks from the vending machine. He helped you with homework and you helped him with his. Whatever diabolical game he was playing was working wonders on you, because suddenly all you could see behind your closed eyes was his gorgeous face. 

The rest of the student body isn’t blind to his newfound affection for you. It’s all they’ve been talking about the entire time. His teammates slap his back in teasing jests while he shoos them all away, all the while that smile never leaving his face. 

“There’s no way!” You’re laughing hard, and yours and Riki’s shared giggles are quite audible over the soccer field. You’re both sitting on the grass just after practice, where Riki’s cooling off in the gentle breeze blowing across the grass. He’s telling you about some antics he had put up in class to get away from not turning in assignments, which involved a fake rubber rat and a very scared Calculus teacher. You’re wiping tears from your eyes from the laughter while Riki shakes his head in amusement. The breeze blows a single leaf to land right on top of your head, and it makes you giggle harder. 

He shuffles a bit closer to you, arm raising up to remove the leaf from your head. His breath is warm as it fans across your warming cheeks, the narrowed distance between you both not being lost on either of you. His eyes meet yours, and you’re still a goner for them. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing in nervousness, yet he makes no attempt to move away. Instead, he feels a bold surge in him. His finger loops around the bow on your school uniform, tugging the ribbon and invariably, you, forward towards him, making the breath in your throat hitch, and your eyes becoming wide as saucers. His eyes dip to your cupid’s bow, and scan over your lips and how they’re parted. Riki spends not a second more pressing his lips to yours, and you’re in heaven. 

The walk back to your house is full of shy touches, and the warmth of your hand in his. Riki’s lips are still tingling where yours were just moments ago. He can’t even begin to fathom how he ended up here - from loathing you to wanting to kiss you again. He was addicted to you and wanted more of you. But these things needed to be paced, and Riki wanted it done right. Bidding you goodbye in front of your house, where you left him with another giggle-pressed kiss to his cheek and a warm buzz filling his body, he was absolutely enamored by Y/N L/N.

The next day, he wakes up and it’s a good day. It’s a good day because he’s going to ask you out finally. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, just because of the implausibility of the situation. There was a brightness surrounding the boy all throughout, a contrast to his regular attitude. Sunoo and Taki had been updated already, and he was planning to tell the team, the rest of his friends during practice, after which he would ask you on a date during your regular after-practice hangouts. Except for the life of him he couldn’t find you, at all. It was unfortunate that today was the day of the announcement of the student council election results, for which classes were mostly halted, since the student council was quite a big deal 

He’s scanning around to find you amongst the crowd of the assembly where the results were to be announced - only to spot you a bit later. Also, he notices that you’re not alone. You’re grinning (a bit too much for his liking, if he's being honest) at Yang Jungwon, the boy who was the sure-shot winner of the President position. You’re too close to him, and it makes his heart clench. He’s biting his tongue until it almost bleeds. He doesn’t get an opportunity to speak to you, as the event commences. He just decides to wait till later, ignoring the pain in his chest he got from seeing you with another guy. 

“The President of this year’s student council is Yang Jungwon.” There’s a smattering of loud applause, and even Riki joins in half-heartedly, still wounded over what he was previously. “The position of Vice President goes to his running mate, Y/N L/N!”. 

He’s still in his place, though his heart bursts with pride and joy for you, his eyes drinking in your excited run up to the stage, shaking hands with the Principal of the school. Your face is broken into the biggest smile ever, and your eyes are shining from pure happiness. Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t he know you were going for it? Or that Jungwon was your running mate?”

But all in all he’s very, very happy and proud of you, so he squishes down that ugly feeling of jealousy in him, and focuses on how you somehow look directly right at him. Your smile drops a little when you notice he isn’t clapping, a fact Riki himself didn’t realize, too busy staring in awe at you. It takes Eunchae’s loud hollering in the crowd to break you out of your stupor and your return to your regular state. 

He’s changing out of his practice clothes, feeling a bit down from the events that actually happened today and how he’d expected it to go. He hadn’t been able to catch a moment alone with you after the ceremony, and four of the older members of the team were missing from practice today too, since Jay was the treasurer of the previous session, he had to oversee the handing over of the duties to the newer batch. Practice, because of that, ended up being him, and the benchwarmers and people he didn’t really know all that well. It was something he had to get used to as the new captain, so he figured this would serve as a good preview. He was talking to another benchwarmer of his grade, Junhee, while changing. Junhee wasn’t necessarily a good person, if Riki was honest. He always hung out with the rash crowd and got into fights because of his crass nature. He placed the small box of chocolates he’s managed to quickly buy for you from a store outside school, a sticky note with your name and a congratulation scrawled on it, down on the metallic bench as he gathered up the rest of his things. This doesn’t escape Junhee’s notice, who smirks lazily as he spots the name on the post-it. 

“No way, Nishimura. She did it, huh?”

Riki already doesn’t like the way he refers to you as just someone, and it sets his skin aflame. “Hmm?” he responds half-heartedly, not at all interested in maintaining a conversation with Junhee of all people. “Well, doesn’t it make sense, Nishimura? She’s into that horror shit right? Clearly she’s made a voodoo doll of you and forced you to love her. Manifestation shit, am I right?”

Riki’s blood is boiling as he hears what Junhee is saying, but for some reason he says nothing back. It’s like he’s trapped in this vortex in his mind fueled by the insecurity he felt from seeing you with Jungwon, or how he felt out of the loop about your co-curricular adventure. Staying mum, he just grabbed the chocolate box, and turned around, only to gasp in shock to see you standing right there. Your mouth is twisted downwards in disappointment, and you’re staring at him with absolute loathing in your eyes right now. He rushed forward towards you, ready to explain, and also wanting desperately to punch the snickering Junhee behind him, who was now slinking away from the scene. 

It feels like there is a knife in your back and twisting itself in your flesh all over again. There is a panic rising in your throat, suffocating you overwhelmingly. It’s jarring and mind-boggling. So before Riki gets to you, you run.

Eunchae is gathering you up in her arms as your inconsolable state renders you helpless, slumping on the floor of your bedroom, finding it harder to breathe as the sadness keeps washing over you in painful crashes, making you feel weaker and weaker as the time goes. 

“Why does he hate me, Eun? He kissed me, didn’t he? So why is he so cruel?”

The six boys in Riki’s room are trying their best with damage control, as they all had rushed over to his house when Riki had texted them in a panic and explained what had gone down. “But why didn’t you defend yourself in front of Junhee in the first place man?”, Taki asks frustratedly, tugging at his hair. Riki frowns, trying to ignore the flashes in his head of your heartbroken face while his chest aches. “I kept thinking about her and Jungwon. I treated her terribly before all this, didn’t I? I just kept thinking how she might like Jungwon now.” His eyes are downcast in sadness, and his voice is broken. Pulling up a chair right in front of Riki, Heesung plops down and holds Riki up by the shoulders, squaring him up. “Riki. Go. Go right now and apologize, before you lose her even more.” Riki is crying harder now, and wiping his tears, he breaks and finally tells them. “I don’t think I want to be without her, Heesung. I want her love, no matter if it drives me to my end.”

Riki sees how Eunchae slipped out of your house to walk towards the supermarket, no doubt to get you both some consolation food. He takes this moment to approach your front door, knocking furiously in nervousness and apprehension. It’s now or never. 

You open the door, assuming it’s Eunchae who left something behind before she left, so seeing Riki - messy hair, lips bitten to the extreme and bloodshot eyes standing on your front porch knocked the wind out of your lungs. Ready to slam the door on his face, his long hand stops you from doing so, pleading “Y/N please, please just listen to me. It wasn’t how it happened. I didn’t agree with Junhee at all. I like you, Y/N L/N, like it’s breathing. Being away from you makes me lose my mind, and I know I haven’t been the best to you in the past. But please, Y/N. I need you to give me a chance. I need you.”

There’s warm tears flowing down your face, and even in this state Riki thinks you’re beautiful. The porch light shines on your face and you look angelic. He hopes it showed in your mercy as well.

“Why didn’t you disagree?” you sniffle, sweater paws raising up to wipe away some of the tears on your face. The dejected tone with which you ask him makes him feel a deep tug in his heart, aching and sad. “I felt. Jealous. And angry, that Jungwon was so close to you, and that you hadn’t told me about being his running mate. And I know that doesn’t excuse my actions. I just felt, I don’t know. Out of the loop.”

“I wanted to surprise you with the vice president's news.” You mumbled, head down. Riki hesitantly moved toward you, and slowly patting your head, he said “I was surprised, baby, and so, so proud of you. I felt so proud of my girl up there.” He says hoarsely, hoping that his sincerity is as evident as much as he feels it. 

The breath gets knocked out as he groans through his mouth with the impact of your crushing hug. You have your face burrow into his chest, crying softly but also laughing slightly, wetting his shirt. He doesn’t spare a moment to wrap his arms around you tightly, fearing that letting go would mean that he’d lose you again. He sniffs in the soothing and familiar scent of your shampoo and mumbles into your hair, “I don’t know what spell you’ve casted on me, Y/N L/N. But I want to be under it forever.”

The sunlight, Riki thinks, just manages to make you so beautiful that it makes Riki speechless every single time. A lot has changed since the playground and the years after that. And a lot more changed within the last year too. You and Riki are midway through your senior year now. He was sad when he had to bid farewell to the older members of the basketball team, who were practically like brothers to him now. You continued your duties as vice president, though the shared activities you had with Jungwon, still a sore spot for Riki, made him pout adorably, which you always kissed away with a laugh. Riki was the basketball captain now, which added new responsibilities to his shoulder, which he carried excellently. The evidence of which was the recent basketball game that he’d just won with the team. The pep rally, and most of the team was still loitering around the court (Junhee was out. It was one of the first things Riki did as captain, in fact). Riki had sneaked you out to that fateful soccer field where you both had first kissed, and a beautiful sense of deja vu hit him as he looked at you in wonder - how you’d managed to put up with all of him was still a mystery to the boy. But, when you looked to meet his eyes - those dazzling, black eyes that glittered under the setting sun, you both realized - you were both enchanted by each other.

[killerlookz]

Is It Really You? | Joost Klein

description: Based on the song Is It Really You? by Loathe (aka one of the most beautiful songs of all time i'm being so serious) Following a breakup with your long-term boyfriend, the man you were certain you would marry, a night with your best friend, Joost proves that love may lie elsewhere for you.

content: Joost Klein x f! reader, 18+ suggestive content (no smut), RPF, smoking, mention of drinking, angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, cheating, fluff, best friends to lovers(?).

word count: 3363

"Is it really you...? Let's search the sky for a while, you and I, collide like two stars for a while, you and I."

Your eyes burn as another bitter tear falls down your cheeks, the taste of salt grazing your quivering lips as the droplet drips off your chin. The early summer air was getting cooler as the sun had long been set, a small breeze stinging your tearful eyes as it blew past your face.

"Oh," The word drops painfully from the mouth of the man beside you, as if you had just broken his heart right then and there, "Oh, don't cry." The familiar voice of your best friend was of little comfort now.

You suck in a deep breath, shaky as your chest spasms, struggling to maintain composure. You gaze out at the city that surrounds you, bright and alive with a bustling nightlife, a nightlife you had found yourself so often partaking in. But tonight, as you sat on the roof of your apartment, you were merely an observer, far removed from the fun of the city.

"Five years, Joost." You turn to face the blonde next to you, "five, down the drain."

His face is pained, pink lips pulled downwards as his eyelids fall and eyebrows furrow, "Het spijt me." (I am sorry) He shakes his head.

The last three weeks had been nothing but sorries, to the point the phrase had begun to make you nauseous, your stomach churning as the condolence had left Joost's mouth. Everything about him told you that he actually meant it, but still- you couldn't bear to hear any more sorries.

"I thought I was going to marry him," You turn away from Joost, facing back to the skyline that surrounded you, observing the buildings, and the multitudes of colors that shone from their windows. Your chest ached, you didn't understand how someone you had loved so much and for so long could leave in an instant, seemingly so nonchalantly, with not so much as to even give you a face-to-face goodbye, "Fuck." You mutter, feeling a familiar anger begin to bubble inside you- what a fucking coward.

A trembling hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes that sits beside you, grabbing the warped cardboard, and pulling out another cigarette. Looking into the box, only one remained, had you not been so consumed by your emotions you probably would have felt bad smoking almost the entire pack, considering they weren't yours.

"There's one left," You mutter, tipping the box in Joost's direction, offering him the remaining cigarette, despite the entire pack having been his in the first place.

"I'm ok," He shakes his head, "It's yours."

A small smile pulls at your lips in response to the gesture, but you just cannot take that response,

"No," You push the open cardboard towards him, "Take it. Humor me please." You had hoped he would accept, and indulge you in your shared bad habit together.

Joost reluctantly takes the pack from you, slowly pulling out the single remaining cigarette, and placing it between his lips. You watch as he struggles with the lighter in his hand that is clearly on its last life. With a flick, he's finally able to produce a small, orange flame, just enough to light the end of the cigarette.

He passes the lighter to you, his fingertips lightly brushing your palms as he hands the small, black object over to you. His slight touch sends shivers down your spine, almost making you forget your unfortunate situation for a split second.

Tilting your head down, and using a cupped hand to shield you from the gentle breeze, you attempt to light the cigarette that hangs from your lips. Your finger swipes down the cool metal, but you're unable to produce a spark, the serrated metal wheel is unturning as it bores into your skin. You attempt a few more times, left only with your thumb sore from its rough movements against the hardness of the metal.

"Here," Joost says, clocking your lack of success with the lighter. He leans in towards you, touching the end of his cigarette to yours. You note the proximity between you, his face so close to yours. You can't help but take a moment to admire him, the way his blue eyes glimmer behind the lens of his glasses, how his hair is just the perfect amount of messy, and how the warm colored city lights highlight the angles of his face against the backdrop of night.

Your spark of admiration reminds you of simpler times, of younger years, spent pining over your best friend in all of your teenage awkwardness. You had spent most of your childhood with an insatiable crush on Joost, one that went absolutely nowhere. Minus that one time, the two of you shared a drunken kiss four years ago, but it had meant nothing other than the fact that you were angry at your then-boyfriend, and you had had far too much to drink.

Still, you remember it like it was yesterday, having found out just days prior your boyfriend, Christian, had been hooking up with his ex-girlfriend the whole year you had been together. If you had known then what you know now, you would have left him, but having been dumb and 21 the answer to your problems was fighting fire with fire.

You and Christian had been at a party thrown by a mutual friend, having not spoken to him since you had found out what he had done, you showed up to the party with Joost, who you had, subsequently spent the entire night with. The kiss had taken place after god only knows how many drinks, and a night spent dancing with Joost like he was your boyfriend. You and Joost had found yourselves on a couch in the living room, Christian staring dead at the pair of you from across the room, his eyes burning into you- it had felt as good of a time as ever, Heartless by The Weeknd boomed over the speakers, to give him a taste of his own medicine.

To make a short story even shorter, you and Joost had become the focal point of the party for the remaining length of the song, having had him pushed back on the couch as you laid straddled on top of him, lips locked in a furious kiss, wandering hands exploring each other's bodies in a way that hadn't been entirely appropriate for such a public setting.

Following a heated argument after that incident, you and Christian considered each other even, willing to move on with the relationship as if nothing had happened. Joost didn't feel quite the same, the two of them had been on rocky waters ever since then, which, he didn't mind, he was far from fond of the man you swore up and down you were going to marry one day.

Blinking a few times you return yourself to the present moment, watching as Joost's chest rises, sucking in a breath, stoking the flame of his own cigarette so he can light yours. You inhale as well, which finally allows your cigarette to light.

You smile to thank him, the cigarette still pressed between your lips. You place two fingers on either side of the cigarette, taking a proper drag, feeling a familiar warm prickling in your throat as the smoke enters your lungs.

You face away from Joost to exhale, grey smoke dancing around you as another gust of wind approaches.

"I just don't understand," You start, your voice beginning to waver as memories of the last five years you spent with Christian came back to you, "How could he?" You inhale once more, deeply, hoping that you can receive at least some vague headrush from the nicotine. Exhale. "After all the shit I put up with, he leaves me." You face back to Joost, a grimace forming on your face, "With a text."

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, attempting to suppress the way your lips quiver as a sob threatens to escape you.

Joost's head hangs to the side, sympathy spread across his face,

"I don't think there's anything to understand." He presses the cigarette in his hand up against his lips, taking a quick inhale before speaking again, "He's just a dick."

"Easy for you to say," You sigh, "You're biased, you never liked him."

"Yeah," Joost says, matter-of-factly, "He spent the first year of your relationship fucking his ex-girlfriend."

"I cheated too," You mumble, you had never quite forgiven yourself for that incident, no matter how perfect it had felt in the moment.

"We kissed once while we were drunk." He furrows his eyebrows to take another drag of his cigarette.

"Still cheating," You shrug, even if he did have a fair point, you having kissed Joost in pure spite didn't exactly equal a year's worth of hooking up with someone else, "I mean," You pause to take a drag of your cigarette, "If I was your girlfriend, would you want me kissing other guys- even if it was because you had done something too?"

"If you were my girlfriend I wouldn't have sex with anyone else in the first place."

"That's not my point." You shake your head

"But that's my point." He says in earnest.

You flick your eyes up to look at him to find him staring back at you, his gaze unwavering from where it meets yours. He was right and you shouldn't have let the relationship go on for as long as it did.

With a blink more tears are spilling out of your eyes, unable to hold back your cries much longer.

"I wasted five years of my life," The tears continue to pour down your cheeks, "Five years is a long time."

A small smile appears on Joost's face, a sign of encouragement,

"Someday being with someone for five years will feel like nothing," You watch as the end of his cigarette burns down with another drag, a puff of grey smoke exiting his mouth as he speaks again, his voice softening, "But I know it hurts now."

"Yeah," You concede, hanging your head. "It does."

"I know the last thing you want is the 'it gets better with time' speech, but i promise you, it will."

"I believe you." You cannot look at Joost as you take another drag from the cigarette between your fingers, continuing to stare at the concrete roof of your apartment building as the tears continue to stream down your face. Deep down you know he's right, that one day you'll be with someone for far longer than five years, but it was hard to imagine all of the grief you'd have to push yourself through before getting to that point, mourning the last five years of your life seemed like a daunting challenge ahead.

You push what remains of your cigarette into the concrete, watching as the small flame extinguishes with a small plume of smoke.

"Come here." Joost sighs, slinging an arm around your hunched-over body. Instinctively, your head falls to the side, resting against Joost's shoulder. Moments of affection had been scarce between the two of you since the incident at the party, you knew that part of you feared what sort of emotions would be brought if you let yourself get too close in physical proximity to him.

But now it didn't matter, you were more than receptive of a shoulder to cry on.

The pair of you sit in silence for a moment, both fixated on the dark sky that stretches around you in every direction. The stars are nothing but a faint twinkle tonight, much as they had been every night, something you had gotten used to since moving to the city.

Joost's palm rubs soft circles into your back, lulling your shaky breaths to a stable cadence. You feel heavy as you lay on Joost's shoulder, your eyes burning and your head aching from how much you had been crying.

You can't help but let your mind wander, mostly about the past, about your life before Christian. Tonight had reminded you of old times, of when it was just you and Joost, the pair of you attached at the hip. Neither of you had very many friends growing up, and while you could appreciate your expansive friend groups now, and how much your lives had changed since you were teens, you couldn't help but miss moments like this, moments where you had him all to yourself.

You had accepted a long time ago that you were probably never going to completely get over the crush you had on Joost. Not that it mattered much anyway, it seemed harmless, and it obviously hadn't inhibited you from finding love elsewhere. A puppy crush was all you had thought it had waned down to. Joost seemed to only get more attractive as he aged anyway, having truly grown into himself. Sometimes you couldn't believe the man he had matured into- proud was an understatement.

"Feeling any better?" He asks, his voice low as to not startle you as he breaks the silence.

"I don't know." You mumble, your voice threatening to crack once more and your mind is a mess with pure confusion as to what it was you were feeling. Your heart thumps in your chest at a volume that feels much louder than normal, pumping at a rate that seems much too fast for the situation you're in, "Can I ask you a weird question?"

"Sure" He chuckles, "Ask me whatever you want."

"Did you like it?" The question quickly slips from your lips.

"Like what?" He responds, clearly confused.

"Like," You begin to trail off, unsure if you want to clarify your question, "When we-uh kissed?"

The soft motions he draws against your back are suddenly halted, and it feels like the entire city has gone quiet, like time has stood still, Your heart drops straight into your stomach, fearing the outcome of his rigid bodily reaction.

"Y-yeah, yeah, I liked it." His voice becoming more confident as words progressed.

"I did too," It seemed useless now to wallow in the guilt you had felt about that situation, you liked it, "Do you think we could-" You cut yourself off, not sure of how to finish the question.

Joost places three fingers on your jaw, grabbing at your chin to pull your gaze up to him.

You look at Joost through tearful eyes, questioning how to make your next move. A few seconds of anxious silence pass between the two, breathing heavily.

Joost's fingers linger on your jaw as you feel him pull you closer ever-so-slightly, the two of you inching nearer to each other. Unable to wait any longer, you push yourself forward, at the same time, Joost seems to have had the same idea, the two of you colliding with a force you hadn't expected, which almost takes the breath straight from your lungs.

But you only wish to get closer as your lips clash against Joost's with a hunger you weren't used to. You couldn't remember the last time you had experienced a kiss with such passion, with such intent behind it.

Your hands find themselves tangled up in Joost's hair, threading through and pulling at the already messy strands. Joost's own hands are planted firmly on your body, one on the back of your neck and the other on your waist.

You began to slowly tip back, removing a hand from Joost's hair to maintain stability as you lowered your back to the concrete. Joost follows suit, not breaking the kiss as you pull him down with you.

He props himself up with a hand next to your head, using his other free hand to hold your cheek. You wrap both of your arms around his neck, attempting to pull him further down on top of you.

Joost's kisses soon leave your lips, soft lips trailing down your jaw and eventually your neck. Your chest rises, back arching as he connects with your throat, sucking softly. You let your head tip back onto the concrete, staring up at the sky as Joost continues.

Somehow the stars feel much brighter now, although you know that they aren't. But you're memorized by their faint twinkle in the heat of the moment, as your hands desperately grasp at Joost's hair, and your breathing begins to speed up.

Once more, you're overwhelmed, eyes damp once more as they well up with tears. You pinch your eyes closed, trying to force the droplets away, but it does nothing but push your salty tears down your face. It didn't feel so bad to cry now, not as Joost ghosts your neck with soft kisses, his hand dropping to draw reassuring circles on your hip with his thumb.

You arch your back, allowing Joost to wrap an arm under you, holding you tight. You whine as his teeth graze your neck, quickly soothing the small bite with his tongue. It's obvious Joost notices your response to the action, repeating it over a few more times, surely bursting some blood vessels along the way.

You recognized the sensation that was building inside of you, the way the muscles in your legs tightened and your abdomen strained, the paralyzing feeling of want terrorizing every nerve in your body. You bend your leg, pushing your hips forward. With your sudden movement, Joost's hand slips from behind your back to your thigh, his fingertips just below the hem of your pajama shorts. It's not quite where you want him.

A strangled, "Please," leaves your throat, causing Joost to hesitate, lifting his head from where it hung by your neck, his hand dropping from your thigh.

Pity is written all over his face as he looks down at you, fuck.

"I'm sorry," He shakes his head

"What?"

"We shouldn't-"

"No?" You choke, and it's like you could feel him slipping through your fingers, you clench your jaw, his name bitten into your tongue. You let your head fall to the side, the concrete is harsh, scraping against your cheek.

"Stop," You feel Joost's hand graze your arm, "Please look at me."

You can't bear to lift your head up, shame written all over your face. First your boyfriend now him.

"I don't mean to upset you, please, liefje, look at me."

His use of the phrase liefje making you immediately turn your head, confused.

"Don't call me that if you don't mean it." You frown

"I do mean it."

"Sure."

Joost lowers his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead,

"Believe me," He mumbles, his lips still resting against your hairline.

"Then why can't we go any further?" You wince at the words that come from your mouth.

"We will," He raises his head to look you in the eyes, "When you're ready."

"I am," You furrow your eyebrows, "I've known you for 15 years, I am more than ready."

Joost frowns, "You just got out of a five-year relationship."

"Do you think I'm using you as a rebound?"

"What-no," He shakes his head, "I just don't want to fuck up your healing process."

"What if you speed it up?" You ask, lifting your head from the concrete.

"And what if I make it worse?"

"You won't" You plead

"Not tonight." He sighs, dipping his head to place another kiss on your forehead, "Let me take you out first, we'll make it special."

A small smile grazes your lips, your heart warmed at his effort,

"I care about you, y/n, I don't want to just have sex with you because we're in the mood, okay?" He speaks earnestly, making your pulse quicken.

"Okay," You whisper, "Can you at least stay the night?"

"I'll stay as long as you want," he smiles, and a few moments of comfortable silence engulf you both before he speaks again, "You know I love you, right?" You're unsure of if it's platonic love, or something more, but it doesn't seem to matter now, the very simple fact that he loves you was all you could really focus on.

"I love you too." You're unsure of how you mean it either, knowing only that you love him. Just as you always had.

[supernovafics]

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, jealous!reader, a bit of angst, fluff

summary: in which you don’t expect to feel so bothered seeing steve talk to another girl, but you do 

author's note: this was unfinished for months and i finally felt inspired to actually finish it thank god. i'm trying to slowly get back into writing stuff for this series so enjoy this for now<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summer 1986

When you first heard about the party, you didn’t think too much about it because your Friday night plans were already settled. A simple movie night in your living room with Steve featuring some of the new arrivals that had just gotten to Family Video. However, you still nodded and said a quick, “Maybe I’ll check it out” to your college friend when she told you about her party and you got the address from her too out of niceness. 

It wasn’t until you half-mentioned the party to Robin as you picked through the new arrivals cart during the final hour of her and Steve’s shift that going actually became a possibility. 

“Wait, what? A party at a lake house sounds perfect. We have to go.”

Steve was quick to look up from the computer and shake his head at her words. “No way. We already have plans for the night, Robs.”

The eye roll he received in response was immediate. “You two can waste away on the couch any night you want. Tonight we should go to a party.”

You considered her words and nodded after a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Thank you,” She smiled at you before looking back at Steve. “And you need to remember that I’m only gonna be here for a few more weeks, so we need to do as much stupid shit as we can while I am still here.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words. “Okay, you can’t keep using the college card like it’s an ‘I only have two weeks left to live’ card.”

“I second that,” Steve agreed. “Also, you keep making it seem like you’re going thousands of miles away. You’re only gonna be an hour away from here.”

“Yeah, well, still, things are changing,” She told you both. “And I wanna have fun before I leave.”

Fun ended up being an understatement. 

Barely an hour into the party she was drunk due to one too many cupfuls of whatever punch concoction had been thrown together and put in a big bowl in the kitchen. You and Steve shared one cup of the weirdly sweet drink and then decided to simply settle into the role of babysitting Robin. 

You both were currently lingering by a wall and watching as Robin danced with all of the other people crowded in the living room; you vaguely recognized the ABBA song playing. You made a mental note to tell her no if she came running over to you and Steve and proposed the idea of getting another drink. 

“This is your fault, you know,” Steve told you, leaning into your ear to be heard over the music. “If you didn’t mention the party to her earlier, you and I would be on the couch watching a movie and eating takeout from Third Street.” 

You gave him a sad look coupled with a pouty lip and he immediately felt bad, taking your look to heart. He quickly leaned in to apologetically kiss you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbled against your lips. 

You were smiling as he pulled away. “You’re too easy.”

He immediately rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side, which made you laugh. “And you’re very evil.”

“Sorry, I had to,” You said and initiated the quick kiss that time around. “Anyway, yes, I know this is my fault and I’d kill to have Third Street right now, but look how happy she is.” You gestured in the direction of where Robin was in the packed living room, dancing with all of the other people who you were convinced were at least half-drunk, but you now couldn’t see her. “Wait, shit, where did she go?” 

Steve looked around for a second too and then let out a sigh when he also couldn’t spot her. Maybe you two weren’t the best babysitters after all. 

“Okay, I’ll check upstairs and you look around down here,” You said to him. “Oh, and maybe grab some water too. She’ll probably need it sooner rather than later.” 

Steve gave you a quick nod. “Okay.” 

You checked every room upstairs and instead of finding Robin you accidentally interrupted one too many couples making out. After quickly peeking into the last room and mumbling out another “Oops, sorry,” you headed back down the stairs, hoping Steve had better luck than you. You noticed him in the kitchen, two water bottles in hand, and talking to someone who wasn’t Robin but you immediately recognized. 

Vanessa. A girl who was in one of your classes last semester and had gone on a handful of dates with Steve at the end of last year. 

It was hard to decipher what they were talking about right then, but Steve had a small smile on his face and so did she. 

You couldn’t recognize why— or maybe you just refused to admit it right then— but you felt the sudden urge to insert yourself into the conversation; sidle up next to Steve, grab his hand and wrap his arm around you, kiss his cheek or simply plant one on his mouth. Essentially mark your territory for everyone, especially Vanessa, to see. But, you were way too sober to actually consider doing any of that, so you instead looked away from him and went back to searching for Robin.

You found her moments later, sitting on the chair swing on the front porch of the house. 

“Hey, Robs, what are you doing out here?” You asked softly as you sat down next to her, trying not to move the swing too much but that proved to be a lot harder than you thought.

Robin didn’t seem to mind, though. Her eyes were closed as she shrugged at your question. “Just wanted some fresh air.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Her eyes stayed shut as she answered you. “Sleepy, but at the same time I kinda wanna get another drink and dance some more.” 

“I’ll allow the dancing, but I need to be a good babysitter right now and say no more drinking.” 

She gave you a quick nod. “The logical side of me knows you’re right.” 

Things got quiet for a second and in that moment of quiet you thought about Steve and Vanessa in the kitchen. It seemed as if all your brain wanted to do right then was play that moment on repeat. You could inwardly admit that the conversation had looked completely innocent and probably quite literally meant nothing, but for some reason, it still bothered you.

“A part of me wishes I got drunk with you,” You said to Robin with a sigh and leaned back into the chair. 

She smiled at that and looked at you. “You definitely still can.” 

Before you could answer, you heard the front door open and subsequently close, and then Steve’s voice filled the brief quiet. “Good. You found her.” 

He handed one of the water bottles he was holding over to you. “I grabbed one for you too.” 

He the. placed the other bottle in Robin’s lap and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, dingus.”  

If the circumstances were different and your thoughts weren’t confused and scattered, you would’ve shifted over a bit and made room for Steve on the small chair swing, and a random conversation would’ve played out for the next few minutes before you or he suggested leaving. But things weren’t different, so you didn’t.

Steve didn’t think too much of it, though. Instead, he simply asked, “Should we head out?”

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah.” 

He looked at Robin. “We’re taking you to our place, right?”

“Yes, please,” She answered, smiling. “You guys are great babysitters.”

She shut her eyes again and Steve looked at you, giving you a smile and you were quick to force one back. It was then that you could tell that he knew something was up with you because of the look he gave you in response to your forced smile, but he didn’t get to ask you what was going on because Robin was abruptly standing up and asking which way the car was. 

It wasn’t until you all were finally in Steve’s car and driving away from the party— Robin fell asleep in the backseat almost immediately— that he finally asked.

“What’s wrong?” 

You let the question linger in the air for a bit— keeping your eyes focused out the window and letting your fingers mindlessly fiddle with the zipper of your jacket— before you answered him. 

“I don’t know…” You mumbled with a shrug and then you sighed and shook your head. “Actually, I do know, but it’s dumb. It’s stupid.” 

His right hand moved off of the steering wheel and found one of yours. “You can tell me.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make being a thousand percent honest feel any easier in this moment. 

“Vanessa was at the party,” You ultimately said, figuring that would be the easiest way to start the conversation.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, we talked for a second.”

“Yeah, I saw,” You said and wanted to end the conversation there, but you knew that you couldn’t. “It kinda annoyed me a bit.” 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, taking a quick look at you.

“I don’t know…” You sighed again. “Just seeing you guys talking was a little annoying, I guess.”

Things got quiet for a second, and that managed to make you get even more inside your head. Maybe Steve thought you were insane or he was even mad at you for feeling this way. This was entirely unchartered territory between you two, so you weren’t entirely sure what his reaction would be. 

“Oh,” Steve said as if he was realizing something and then smiled a bit. “You were jealous.” 

You immediately rolled your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

You used your free hand to gesture to his face. “With that smile on your face.”

“I think it’s cute that you were jealous,” He told you, pulling your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could kiss the back of yours.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

“It really is,” Steve said and you decided not to protest him that time around, looking out the window again. 

“I love you, by the way,” He continued. “Just in case you forgot.” 

That managed to finally get a smile out of you.  

“I did forget, actually. Thank you for the reminder,” You joked and then turned to look at him. “I love you too.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Guiding a half-awake Robin from the car to your and Steve’s apartment was a feat in itself, but it somehow worked out. You two helped Robin into your bed instead of letting her take the couch and then you set a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand because you had a feeling she’d need it in the morning. 

You changed into your pajamas in Steve’s room, which simply consisted of a t-shirt that you had long ago stolen from Steve and a pair of shorts, and then both you and him settled into his bed. 

He had fallen asleep pretty quickly and you thought, or more so hoped, that you would find sleep easily too, but instead, you tossed and turned in bed because you couldn’t seem to shut off your mind. You weren’t entirely sure why you were still feeling a little sulky and weird about everything— Steve didn’t care and he wasn’t upset with you for feeling jealous— but there was something still nagging at the back of your head about the whole thing.

“I know what you’re thinking right now,” You heard Steve sleepily mumble after what felt like an hour of you trying but failing to force yourself to sleep but it was probably only twenty minutes. His arm circled around your waist and he pulled you back against him. “And you should stop it.” 

The fact that he could easily read your mind wasn’t surprising and it was probably the only thing that made you feel a little bit okay and made you want to at least attempt to verbalize the thoughts that had been running through your head. 

“I just hate being like this. It feels so— I don’t know…” You were then squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your face into the pillow as you admitted, “When I saw you and her talking I really wanted to just go up and kiss you in front of her, so that she knew that we’re together and you’re mine.”

“Mm, you should’ve done that,” He mumbled into your neck. “That would’ve been really hot.”  

You finally turned on your side to face him. “Shut up. I don’t know why I just admitted that, honestly. I told you this was stupid.” 

“Don't feel embarrassed about it,” He said, somehow managing to sum it all up perfectly; you were feeling embarrassed. “This happens to me all the time.” 

You laughed a little. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better about how dumb I'm being.”

“I’m serious,” He told you. “Remember last Thursday when you came to Family Video during the last hour of mine and Robin’s shift?”

When you gave him a quick nod in response, he continued. “I was so annoyed watching you talk to that one guy.”

At first, you weren’t sure what guy he was talking about, but then it hit you. It had been the all too familiar situation where someone thought that you also worked at the store because you were the only one standing behind the counter since both Robin and Steve were stocking shelves. But even after you told this guy that you actually didn’t work there, he kept the conversation going and you laughed and smiled along for a bit to be nice before making up some excuse and retreating to the break room for the rest of Steve and Robin’s shift. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t seem annoyed at all, and we didn’t even talk about it.”

“Yeah, because for like two minutes I felt jealous, but then I remembered that I’m the one you’re with and nothing could change that— especially not some random blonde guy— so…” Steve trailed off with a shrug and smile.  

As if flicking a light switch, his words changed everything for you. Once again, he was right; there was nothing that could change what you two had. 

“And just so you know,” He continued, voice soft and quiet. “I always feel embarrassed and stupid about it after it happens too.”

You were smiling as you kissed him then, closing the small bit of distance between you two and finding his lips in the darkness that consumed his room. 

“I can’t believe you’re turning out to be the rational one out of the two of us,” You joked when you pulled back from the kiss and proceeded to bury your face into his neck and completely entangle your body with his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He whispered back and pressed the softest kiss to your shoulder before he started to pull away from you. You immediately pouted at him in protest but he continued, pulling the blanket off of both of you and getting out of bed. “It’s only midnight. Let’s do what we were actually supposed to do tonight.”

Hearing him say that made you follow suit and get out of bed too, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Movies and Third Street?”

Steve was nodding as he walked over to you, arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Yup.”

“That’s a great idea,” You whispered, looking up at him. “But, no funny business on the couch, though. The walls are way too thin and we’ll never hear the end of it from Robin if she hears anything.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and then proceeded to kiss your forehead and then both of your cheeks and then your neck; all of which made you softly laugh. “Sorry, just needed to get those out of the way first.”

You gave him an understanding nod that you hoped looked as serious as you wanted it to be, but there was a wide smile on your face as you spoke. “Okay, yeah, makes sense.”

He gave you one final kiss, that time against your lips, and then he was pulling away from you and heading toward his shut door. Your arms circled around him from behind as you followed him out into the living room. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[redr0sewrites]

im a handful (but thats what hands are for)

🍇A/n: the title is a song lyric,,,, iykyk

🍇Cw: smut, dirty talk, praise + degradation, pwp, fingering, riding, breeding kink, a bit of angst???, implied switch!Touya, fem!reader

🍇divider

you and Dabi had always been complete opposites in terms of demeanor. while he was carefree and frivalous, you always prided yourself on being complex and thorough. with the ever burning tension between you two, it was no wonder that you had ended up in the position you were in now- although this was certainly not the first time- pressed down on your bed with one of Japans, no, the worlds most dangerous criminals finger fucking you to hell and back.

"there she is," he whispers, the same words as the first time you'd let him fuck you. "knew there was a pretty little slut under that cold exterior."

you follow your script with practiced expertise, repeating the same words you'd uttered all those months ago- and so did he.

"ffuck you-"

"isn't that what i'm already doing 'ma?"

Dabi was mesmerized with you, to say the least. from the hitch of your breath when he first curled a finger into your pretty cunt, to the soft whines that slowly fill the room with each ministration, followed by the delectable squelch of your pussy as your clit rocks against his knuckles.

it was clear in every sense of the word that he was purely obsessed, almost worshipful- not limited to, but especially in bed.

"yea? y'like that?"

piercing blue eyes watch your every move, keeping careful catalog of every twitch and shudder you make in response to his actions. Dabi's thumb finds your clit with practiced ease, and he rubs swift circles over the sensitive bud.

"Dabi, oh-h, fuck-"

"thats not my name, hun," he coos, leaning down to press an almost condescending kiss to your forehead.

"y'really are worked up, huh? c'mon, we're all alone, you can say it."

"ffuck, Touya!"

"there she is," he smirks, curling his fingers and sliding in a third as you whimper. you can practically see his mind whirling with sawtrap level plans to keep you in bed with him, to finally let him truly be yours. in all the times you both had slept together, you had never fallen asleep beside him, never stayed the night, hell, never even mentioned it outside of the bedroom. it had started off as a challenge, but that soon melted into a raw, desperate, carnivorous need to be yours. Touya had never been wanted, so he rarely even dared to allow himself to want in turn- but fuck, did he want you.

he watches you as you cum like a sheep watches its guard dog, knowing deep down that you could ruin him, sink your teeth into his neck and tear out the remains of his bleeding, broken heart- and yet, the dog stays ever loyal, defending its livestock even at its own expense.

your ability to speak seemed to flee as your orgasm washes over you, sending ripples of pleasure across the planes of your body. all the while Touya continuously pumps his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, prolonging your pleasure as the world around you fizzes in and out of focus.

"y'alright?" he rasps, pulling his hand away from your sticky cunt- only to lick your release right off his fingers. you make a face and he snickers, and for just a second, you can see a ripple within the veil of time, and instead of one of the most dangerous people in the world, a snarky, beautiful young man is sitting in front of you. that was the difference between Dabi and Touya in your eyes- he could act cold and nonchalant all he wanted, but behind closed doors, he was your Touya.

"you want a taste?" his words pull you from your stupor, and you roll your eyes.

"no thanks, i'm good."

"are you sure? you taste sweet, y'know," he teases, and you laugh in spite of yourself.

"bull."

"don't knock it till ya try it," he snickers, before shifting to stand up. your body reacts without thinking, and you grab his wrist.

"where are you going?" you demand, and he turns to look at you, almost.... surprised.

"i was gonna go get something to clean up, but i guess if you'd rather be covered in your own slick-"

"what about you?" you motion to the obvious strain in his boxers, and he rolls his eyes.

"you worried about me, doll?"

"sit back down."

he obeys almost immediately, your commanding tone wiping the attitude out of his demeanor- but it isn't enough to diminish the teasing smirk off his face.

"why? ya gonna suck me off?"

"no," you murmur as you begin to shift closer until your hovering over him. with one hand, you push him down against the mattress, and he relaxes compliantly, like a ragdoll beneath your fingertips. you look down at him, lust clouding your gaze as he stares up at you with those big, blue eyes.

"then what're you gonna do, ma?" he mumbles, voice noticeably raspier.

"you'll see, Touya. be patient." you continue to hover over him, keeping yourself from fully straddling him just yet. he'd already shed most of his clothes earlier, leaving him bare before you in nothing but his boxers. his cock is already hard, straining up against the thin material of his undergarments.

you take your time to admire the pretty scene laying down in front of you- and pretty it is. his scars are even more defined in the dim lighting, and the streetlights from outside your window illuminate the silvery piercings holding him together.

you had been cursed- or rather, blessed- with intrusive thoughts of tearing them all out one by one with your teeth while he burnt you alive from the inside. it was disgustingly, beautifully gruesome, almost carnivorous, the way you loved- no. lusted for him. you desperately want him to be your undoing- and you, his- but you could never let yourself love him. not when he would never love you. you keep that in mind as you trail a hand over his chest and pectorals, yet your heart pays careful attention of the way his breathing hitches at your gentle touch.

"so pretty," you murmur, before leaning down to press a kiss to the conjunction of his neck and collarbone. Touya practically melts, getting all squirmy and unsure beneath you like he always did whenever you show him any attention.

"shut up," he hisses, but his words hold no bite as he shudders beneath you.

"mhm," you continue your assault on his neck, pressing gentle kisses across the scarred flesh.

"you nervous, Touya?" you tease, and he sucks in a breath.

"i said shut up."

"of course, baby~" you coo, pretending to ignore the strained whine that leaves his mouth at your words. he always got like this after a long day, all compliant and needy, but it was rare that he was this quiet. you indulge his good behavior, and your hands, which were previously exploring his chest, travel down to find purchase on the waistband of his boxers.

"can i take these off?"

"yea," he rasps, lifting his hips up off the mattress to assist you in removing his undergarments. his cock springs free, lightly tapping against his stomach in its erect state. you once again marvel at his complacency, and your heart flutters at how much he trusts you. then your brain tells your heart to shut the fuck up. regardless, you make eye contact with him as you spit into your palm before gingerly running a finger up the side of his aching length, causing Touya to grit his teeth to prevent another whine slipping out.

"don't tease," he grumbles, blue eyes narrowing in adorable irritation. you hum, watching the way his body tenses as you situate yourself above his aching length, aligning him with your entrance. scarred hands tentatively hover over your hips, and he looks up at you almost questioningly. you give a nod of approval and he grabs your soft flesh, rubbing small circles with his thumb over the plush of your hips.

"y'ready?" you mumble, before slowly sinking his tip between your folds. Touya nods breathlessly, watching as your cunt slowly begins to swallow up his length. his tip slowly protrudes into your gummy walls, and you shudder around his size. he's barely halfway in and he's already practicing breathing exercises to keep himself from cumming too early, with the way your squeezing him so tight.

you watch his stomach twitch beneath your hand as you sink further down his length. Touya's head is thrown back, and with every inch engulfed into your aching heat he lets out a few more tantalizing noises. your thighs burn as you finally seat yourself on his cock, with your clit ever so lightly brushing up against his navel as you get situated. you give yourself a second to get used to the slight burn you've associated with having him inside of you, and Touya squirms beneath you as he too struggles to adjust.

slowly but surely, you begin to roll your hips against his, marveling at the way his tip kisses your g-spot. Touya gasps as you raise your hips, almost letting him slip out of you entirely, before slamming yourself back down hard onto his cock. he lets out a strangled moan, squeezing your hips so tight youre sure that they'll bruise.

"yea? y'like that?" you parrot his words from earlier, rolling your hips in a desperate effort to coax out more of his lovely noises.

"ha-ah, fuck, you're so-o tight, 'm not gonna last, m'gonna cum in this pretty pussy," he slurs, looking up at you with hazy eyes.

"yea? s'that what you wanna do Touya? gonna make me yours?"

Touya nods eagerly, rocking his hips up into yours. his thrust hits your g spot perfectly, and you let out a wanton moan. he immediately takes a firm hold of your hips, pistoning his cock up into you again and again, repetitively hitting that spot so deep inside of you.

"you can, y'know." you pant, sweat dripping from your brow.

"huh?"

"cum inside."

Touya sputters something incomprehensible, and you have the audacity to giggle. at him.

"m' on the pill, hun. y'really are worked up, huh?"

Touya lets out a choked moan, recognizing his own words being spat back at him as he rolls his hips impossibly harder against yours. a scarred hand reaches between you both to rub harsh circles on your clit, and you gush, clenching around him at his ministrations.

"i, hah, 'm close- i want you, closer, please," he babbles, wrapping his free arm around your waist and pulling you tight against him. Touya nuzzles into your chest, his lips finding purchase on one of your nipples. your pussy squeezes him tight as he sucks lightly, and his cock twitches once, twice, three times before he cums. he presses down hard on your clit as he spurts inside you, continuing to fuck his release deeper into your spongey walls. those actions alone push you over the edge, and you call out his name as your second orgasm of the night washes over you like a tidal wave.

Touya continues rutting up into you for a few more seconds, prolonging both of your orgasms and pressing sloppy kisses to your chest and collar. he isn't sure what to focus on, or even if he can focus. his mind is fuzzy, filled with you, you, you. nonetheless, your happy to indulge as you paw at his chest, continuing to grind down against him until the pleasure begins to melt into overstimulation. Touya can barely comprehend the fact that you had just let him cum inside of you, and it sparked the possessive side of him that so often reared up in these moments with you.

"o-oh fuck, ffuuuck fuck fuck," he's gasping, cock twitching desperately as he pulls out. cum is dripping down between both of your legs, hot release pooling on the sheets beneath him. you hover over him for a second before collapsing down besides him, and a firm arm wraps around your body, pulling you flush against him. Touya marvels as you melt into his embrace, nuzzling into his neck. if he could cry, he probably would, he wants you insatiably, impossibly close. in this moment, he knows that if he could crawl inside your skin, he would. he would tear out his own burning heart and hand it to you on a silver platter in return for moments like this, where he could be soft, where he could be Touya instead of Dabi.

"shit," you mumble against his skin. "that was... wow. better than ever."

"good enough to make you stay the night?" the words slip out before he can stop them, and he regrets it almost instantly as you tense. fuck his sex-addled brain and his stupid mouth. he's fully prepared for you to immediately get up and leave, but instead, you surprise him like you always do.

"i didn't think you wanted me to stay," you whisper, and he blinks hard.

"f'course i did. i still do."

"..okay. i'll stay."

he can't help the smile that stretches across his face as you snuggle into him deeper.

"on one condition- or maybe two."

his heart sinks.

"we clean up first."

damn.

"and you have to promise that we'll discuss this in the morning. i don't want to keep doing... this. if we're going to continue to sleep together, i want to be, like, more than just friends."

Touya is silent for a moment, and he swears that his heart is beating so loud that the entirety of Japan can hear it. you had just said that. he was sure he must be dreaming.

"really?"

"yes, really. now let me go so i can clean this mess up before it dries!"

"...never. i'm not ever letting go of you ever again."

"ugh, you're such a handful," you grumble, curling into his warmth as he lets out a raspy chuckle.

"i guess you're stuck holding me."

"..yea. guess i am"

hey guys ! im so insane over him actually. he's literally eldest daughter syndrome (me) in the form of a traumatized man (i would not fix him. i support his atrocities. id help him fuck up endeavor.)

ANYWAYS SEND IN DABI/TOUYA OR JUST BNHA ASKS OR THIRSTS PLS

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty four

authors note: this one gets pretty heavy. the next two chapters will also be heavy at points. please heed to cw/tw's.

cw/tw: fluff, angst, brief discussion of childhood sexual assault and child abuse, scene of violence against women

*this author does not condone nor support intimate partner/domestic violence.*

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

“Roman…” His name leaving her mouth is the perfect combination of breathy and whiny. “We–re gonna be late.”

For the first time in what feels like an hour, Roman lifts his head from her neck. She hates how noticeable the absence of his mouth is. “You really think I care about that?”

No. She knows he doesn’t care. But, she also dislikes being the reason for them being late. Because she's certain he has plans afterwards, and it doesn’t sit well with her knowing that she could play any type of role in any inconvenience he may encounter.

Her eyes shut as he brings his mouth back to her neck, sucking the spot that he’s clearly realized she has the most visceral response to. Toes curling, clawing at his shoulders and arms, it’s hard to tell who’s enjoying this more. Him or her.

Still, she manages to protest. “But, I—I care.”

Big hands traveling her body, she sighs quietly when he cups the swell of her breast giving her a gentle squeeze that has her thighs unintentionally gripping his waist. “You should have thought about that before you put this damn outfit on….”

Said outfit isn’t anything crazy, nothing fancy, just a cropped, sleeveless hoodie and dark yoga pants. However, it's the stretchy material that clings to clearly every part of her that he seemingly finds irresistible. Namely her ass and chest. Still, it's the typical type of outfit she would wear to train, which is exactly where they should be headed to right now. Though it seems her husband has another much more carnal destination in mind.

Blush growing, she tries again. “Roman, I—I’m serious.” His tongue circling across her inflamed skin as she groans against him. “You’re gonna l–leave another mark.”

“Good.” His response doesn’t entirely surprise her. Neither does the explanation. “You’re mine, and everyone needs to fucking know that shit.”

Mine

There’s something about that, something about his delivery, so strong and borderline aggressive that makes her insides melt a tad. Makes her smile grow. A good bit, she’s certain, stemming from the fact that it still blows her mind sometimes that a man like Roman Reigns could want her. Does want her. Even with all her….baggage.

He wants her.

Loves her.

For some reason, this makes it a bit easier to slide into that space of comfort and indifference he has regarding time and obligation. Makes her arch her chest into him as he stays true and firm to his determination in leaving her with his mark. 

Though she’s not sure just what about this current situation makes her decide to bring this up now, it’s something she knows she really shouldn't push off anymore.

“R–Ro?”

He makes a sound against her. “Yes?”

“I—I need a favor.”

He sighs against her, lifting his head from her neck to match her nervous gaze. “Solana, doing things for you is never a favor.” He brings his hand to her chin, thumb caressing her skin. “It’s my job as your husband.”

His response, thus far, chips away some of the anxiety. Some. “But, this—this is kinda big.”

Eyes narrowing slightly, he asks, “how big?”

It feels kind of silly, Solana briefly dropping her gaze to his black shirt that’s stretched against his broad chest. “I—I need money.”

Roman just looks at her for a second, a huge smile breaking out on his face. “You need money?” 

She nods. Slowly. “It’s—it’s a lot of money though.”

“I think we have different definitions of what a lot is, but go on.”

He’s probably not wrong, but that doesn’t negate the fact that the proposed amount of money probably needed is substantial compared to the average loan. Solana sits up fully, forcing Roman to also stand upright. He tugs her to the edge, her hands on his chest. “It’s…..it’s for Dr. Stratus.”

At that, she’s clearly lost him. “You need money for your psychiatrist?”

“Not—not like that.” Solana closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tries to gather her thoughts. “The girls were telling me they overheard that Dr. Stratus couldn’t secure an investor to keep the facility going and may have to shut down.”

He remains confused. “Okay…..”

“Roman, I don’t want that to happen.” She closes her eyes, thinking back to some of the information Gail has provided her as well as readings from her book. “Did you—did you know that 1 out of every 6 American women has either been raped or survived of an attempted rape?” Closing her eyes, she murmurs, “I was one of the ones.” Taking another breath, she notices his expression is darker. “But there are a lot more ones out there, Roman, and they need help just like I did. Dr. Stratus has a really great thing going, and I don’t—I don’t want to see it go away. I want—”

“Okay.”

She frowns. “Okay?”

“I’ll do it.”

Her stomach flutters. “Really?” She’s not sure what she was expecting, but for some reason, him so easily agreeing seems almost too good to be true.

Roman shrugs, pushing back some of her hair. “It’s important to you, and it clearly is, so I’ll do it.” That’s it. Nothing else. Just acquiescence.

“But, you don’t even know how much—”

“Doesn’t matter. You want it. I’ll make it happen.”

It’s overwhelming, really. Solana didn’t really think he would be upset with her request. She figured he’d want or need to think about it, which makes sense given it’s probably going to be in the six, maybe even seven figure range. But, that’s not the case. Instead, he’s just agreed without a second thought simply because she wants it.

Because it’s important to her.

Eyes watering, she throws her arms around him, hugging him. “Thank you.” It’s such a simple thing to say for such a big task. But, she also means it from the deepest part of her. For a man who doesn’t seem to think he’s a good person, she thinks the world of him. 

The same way she’s certain their child will. 

“While we’re on it, there’s something I need to talk to you about, too.”

And just like that, her smile is wiped, Solana pulling back and looking up. "Oh—okay.”

Something tells her she’s not going to like what she’s about to hear.

Roman’s intense eyes are focused on her, his index finger tracing along her jaw. “I have to go out of town next week.”

Yeah……definitely not something she wanted or expected to hear.

“Oh.” It’s all she knows how to say initially. Finally, more words arrive. A necessary question asked. “Where are you going?”

He hesitates. “Italy.”

Her eyes widen. That definitely isn’t what she expected him to say. Domestic travel was the guess, international never even being something that crossed her mind. “Italy?”

He nods, explaining on the edge of a heavy sigh. “I have some…..business to take care of with the Cosa Nostra.”

Solana is quiet, sitting on his words, partially hoping he’ll say more. Granted, it’s not a necessity as she’s able to piece the puzzle together herself. “That’s why your cousins were here that night…..isn’t it?” His silence is all the answer she needs. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No.” Though his answer is immediate, there’s something about it that was too instantaneous. Like he blurted it out without even thinking about it. “Just…..something I need to handle.”

It’s a bit manipulative. She knows this, but it’s hard for her to have something like this sprung on her and not ask any follow up questions. “Can….can I come with you?”

Again, his response is something she already guessed before even fixing her mouth to ask. Another heavy sigh as he gently cups her cheek. “Not this time.”

“Because it’s dangerous.” And there’s the manipulation component. Solana has realized that will always be the dealbreaker for Roman when it comes to her. Safety. So, him saying no makes her concerned not for her wellbeing. 

But for his.

Anxiety growing, she asks, “are the twins going with you? You can’t go alone.”

“I won’t be alone.” That helps her feel a little better. Just a little. “But, they’re not coming. I need them here. Handling shit.” It’s hard for Solana to wonder if any part of what went down between Roman and Jey has impacted this decision for them to remain here while he travels abroad. 

Still, that’s another thought for another day. She has a much bigger issue at hand.

“So who—”

“Solana.” Roman’s voice silences the next set of anxiety riddled questions scheduled to leave her mouth. He lowers his volume, his tone softer than anything anyone outside of her would ever hear. “I’ll be fine.”

For some reason, that only cranks her anxiety up from a 6 to a solid 8. And it’s without much thought, she finds herself asking, “do you have to go?”

He truly looks apologetic. A visible thing that also matches the verbal. “I’ve been pushing it off. I can’t push it off anymore.”

She swallows, emotion thick and bubbling. “Because of me?”

“Because of a lot of things, Sol.” And to her surprise, there’s some semblance of emotion present in his voice as well. “The—the story with that side of my family is…..complicated.” As it seems are most things when it comes to his family. Either side, apparently. “Trust me, going there is the last thing I want, but it needs to be done.”

Solana hates this. For a lot of reasons. The biggest one, however, is because she just knows there’s something he’s not telling her. A key part he’s omitting, probably for fear of worrying her. Never mind the fact that she’s already an anxious mess thinking about him being so far away without at least the twins there to have his back. She’d bet this Dwayne and Matteo person will be present, but she doesn’t know them. Doesn’t trust them. Doesn’t trust them to have her husband’s back. 

Not like Jimmy and Jey.

Even with the altercation between Roman and the latter, she still believes in her heart of hearts they’d look out for each other.

Like brothers.

“How long will you be gone?” Because trying to convince him to stay or even allow her to accompany him is the equivalent of beating a dead horse. 

More hesitation. “A week. Maybe two.”

The duration truly could be worse, and it makes sense such a long trip wouldn’t warrant a short turnover, but that doesn’t make the idea of him being gone for that period of time any easier to stomach. 

When she says nothing, he brings his other hand to her hair, pushing a section behind her ear. “Nia will stay with you until I return.”

And the surprises just keep coming. “Nia?” She knows the list of people Roman would ask to do such a thing is pretty limited, nonexistent maybe, but Nia is the last of the last she’d have considered. “She—why would she agree to that?”

Nia’s behavior around and toward Solana has shifted moderately since their first meeting so many months ago. She’s still not the nicest, per se, but Solana has learned a large part of that is nothing personal. It’s just Nia. So, while she’s not against it, she does, however, not understand it. 

“I told you before, people do what I want them to do because no one wants to deal with the alternative. Nia is no different.” Forced. He’s forced her to do this. That’s all Solana took from that, the frown on her face deepening it. “She’ll really just be here to administer your meds and make sure you get to therapy.” 

And she figured as such, figured that would be the basis as to why he would ensure another person is present in his absence. Still, Solana can’t stop herself from trying to broach an option she’s almost certain he won’t want to hear.

“Ro, I don’t—I can take care of that mys—”

“No.” It’s so firm and final. Even his gaze has shifted into something almost hardened. “That’s not an option.”

She figured it wasn’t. She also wonders, however, if it ever will. It has to, at some point. Solana wants to also ask why it can’t be Bayley again, or even Naomi, but it’s most likely to earn her the same type of shutdown. 

If not worse.

Roman steps back, guiding her off the bathroom counter. Standing back on her own two feet, Solana is taken back for a second by the almost instant lightheaded feeling that comes over her. Or less lightheaded and more…..exhaustion.

“You alright?”

She looks up, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m—I’m good.” That’s debatable, because Solana is all of a sudden feeling exhausted from literally doing nothing but making out with her husband. 

Roman, as expected, looks unconvinced. “You sure?” He goes into his spiel that she’s heard at least three times now. “You know you don’t have to jump right back into things. I still think you should take more time off—”

“No.” Her hand shifts to her stomach, Solana grateful this doesn’t seem to trigger something for him. “I—I want to fall back into my routines.” Even more, and most important, if she truly is pregnant, Solana doesn’t want to waste any time left she has to do so before being too far along to train.

But, he can’t have that explanation. Not yet.

And now she has to figure out just when said explanation can occur, because how does she tell her husband they’re expecting days before he’s set to go out of town for possibly two weeks?

Damn.

————

“You’re late.” It’s the first thing to come out of a smirking Bayley’s mouth as Solana walks in with Roman into the training area. ‘But, the outfit is cute.”

Solana smiles at that, a bit of a laugh leaving her considering Roman nearly had a heart attack at her outfit when she stepped out the bathroom. Hence why they’re late. Among…..other reasons. 

“I’m sorry. We got caught up with something.”

“Mmmhmm,” Naomi sounds with that knowing look. “I’m sure you did.”

Solana looks away, wanting and needing to hide her blush as Roman asks in an annoyed voice, “where is he?”

“Here.” The four of them redirect their attention to the sound of Jimmy and the other two men he’s with: Jey and Carmelo.

Naturally, Solana goes to observe the indirect interaction between Jey and Roman, searching for any sigh of contempt. It’s definitely there. She can see it in the way Roman’s shoulders tense and how Jey looks away, Solana noticing the faded bruises on his face as well as the bandage over a still healing cut.

Swallowing, Solana moves over to them. “Hey.” 

Jimmy pulls her into a side hug without needing initiation, but it’s not missed upon her how Jey seems to hesitate to hug her, the tension in his body as well as the way he almost awkward way he clears his throat and looks away. 

She tries not to make too much of it, but it’s hard not to.

Carmelo steps forward, giving a nod. “Ma’am.”

That makes her smile return. “I told you before, you can just call me Solana.”

“Ma’am is fine,” Roman’s deep voice cuts through, Solana not needing to turn around, hearing his heavy footsteps behind her. “You’re late.”

Carmelo swallows. “I’m sorry—”

“I don’t care,” Roman is instantly dismissive, focusing his attention on his wife as he goes into an unnecessary introduction. “Solana, this is—”

“I know,” she cuts him off with a gentle smile, explaining, “I met him at the party.”

At that, Romans’ thick eyebrows cave inward. “What?”

“He was there, Big Dog.”

‘“I–I was there, sir.”

Roman scowls, completely ignoring his cousin and the other irrelevant man. “He was?” He looks over at his wife, asking, “you invited him too?”

Solana nods. “I asked the twins to invite whoever it was you found to help me train, because I wanted to meet him beforehand,” she explains, turning to Carmelo again, “thank you again for—agreeing to help me.”

Carmelo opens his mouth, unsure just how to express that he didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Or one at all. 

“He was there the whole time,” Naomi shares from where she stretches on one of the mats, Jimmy focused on her ass as she bends over. 

“You were too busy trying not to kill and cuss everybody out,” Bayley walks over, earning a hardened look from Roman that she pays no mind to. “Alright, so Solana is obviously a small human being, but she’s fast and hell and can maneuver quickly. That makes her hard to catch. Those are her strengths. She’s also pretty damn good with a knife.” Solana is a bit unsure how to feel about that part. “But, she’s only ever trained with women, hence why you’re here, Melo.”

“She also wants to learn how to do the spear.”

Roman’s statement earns a round of surprised expressions from everyone except Carmelo.

He looks terrified. “The—the spear?” He gestures with a crooked, slightly trembling index finger. “From—from you?”

“Who the fuck else?” Is Roman’s objectively rude reply, Solana having to stop herself from placing her hand on his forearm. He could try to be a little nicer. 

“You supposed to get a spear from him?” A new voice sounds, Solana not recognizing the man with a deep complexion, multiple piercings and an….interesting hairstyle. He shakes his head. “You gon die!”

Solana’s mouth drops as Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud. Jimmy is the one to ask, “R Truth, where did you even come from?”

He scowls, pointing downward. “Boss man said meet him here.”

“I said at the office, Truth. Not the Warehouse.” Jey finally speaks, Solana realizing it’s the first time he’s done so. He sounds annoyed, and she’s not sure if it’s just because of the scene unfolding before them. Or something that he’s clearly still not over.

“Yo? Forreal?” Jey runs his hand over his face. “That’s—that’s my bad.” He looks to Roman, nodding. “Tribal Chief.” He looks at Solana, again nodding, “Mrs. Tribal Chief.” He then gestures to the rest of the group. “Ya’ll be safe now.” Pointing to Carmelo, he adds, “‘cept’ for you, you already dead.”

Solana has so many questions, even as this strange man walks away, Jey muttering something incoherent before he seems to follow after this R-Truth person. 

Once those two men are gone, Carmelo nervously clears his throat. “Tribal Chief, if I can, who better to train her than y—”

“Shut up,” Roman says it so lazily. It’s as he crosses his massive arms over each other that Solana has to briefly look away, finding herself growing….distracted. He’s so damn muscular. “She’s comfortable with me. That won’t help her learn.”

Roman easily transitions into providing basic information about the spear, best ways to time it, stances, ways to land it and whatnot. She’s following, as best she can, at least. Because this exhaustion she’s experiencing is making it ten times harder to be present in the moment, and that’s made evident by the gap in her focus when one moment Roman is explaining, and the next he’s rushing towards Carmelo.

Solana gasps as Roman spears the other man with a ferocity and intensity that seems almost animal-like.

Eyes wide, hands over her mouth, Solana has to wince at a pain she didn’t even experience. But, one didn’t have to be on the receiving end of that to know it had to hurt like hell. 

Roman stands up so unbothered and nonchalant, readjusting his almost always perfect bun.

“Gotta give him his props. No one does a spear quite like Roman,” Bayley chuckles, arms crossed as Solana continues to stare in shock.

Jimmy casually walks by and peers over an unmoved Carmelo. “Ayo, Uce, I think he dead.” The faintest sound of pained whining fills the air, prompting Jimmy to correct himself. “Never mind. He alive.”

“Barely,” Naomi mumbles.

“He shouldn’t be so weak,” is Roman’s pompous defense as he redirects his attention to a still startled Solana. “Make sense?”

There’s a brief delay in between the time she nods slowly and speaks. “But, I—I don’t think I can do that.”

A small smile falls on Roman’s face as he explains, “it’s not going to be the exact same, Solana. I’m significantly bigger than you. Plus, spearing a man is different than spearing a woman.”

“What if I need to spear a man?”

His expression hardens as he affirms, “he’d have to get through me first to fucking touch you.”

Solana doesn’t say anything after that. Just waits for Carmelo to recover as they transition to the one-on-one portion. Solana is rolling her shoulders, trying to get in as much stretching as she can to hopefully loosen up her body more and shed away the almost fatigue she’s feeling.

It’s unfamiliar and inconvenient as hell considering what she’s about to do.

She’s in earshot range too when Roman grabs Melo’s arm and warns in the chilliest tone, “leave one fucking mark on her, and I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body.”

A heavy sigh leaves her body. She understands Roman’s protectiveness, but truthfully, Carmelo is doing them a favor. He doesn’t have to be here. 

Then again….maybe he does.

She doesn’t put it beyond her husband to threaten people on her behalf. 

Not in the slightest.

And on one hand, she’s partially grateful for the obvious care and mindfulness Carmelo is utilizing as he trains with her, it’s definitely helpful from her trauma standpoint. Helps for them to not be as physical as she typically is with Bayley and Naomi. 

However, it's painfully obvious that Carmelo is doing his damn hardest to minimize any and all physical contact between the two of them. A part of her appreciates it, but a larger part of her finds it a bit annoying. It’s sparring. Not interpretive dancing. 

Solana manages to swipe Carmelo off his feet, growing a bit frustrated when he intentionally takes longer to get up. “This doesn't help me,” she sighs, hands on her hips as she takes a second to steal a much needed breath. “Roman, can you please tell him—”

She’s cut off by being swiped by her ankles, tumbling forward to the floor. Carmelo is suddenly over her, flipping her onto her back, Solana not hesitating to move her knee between his stupidly open legs. He groans from the impact, and she takes that opportunity to bar her forearm across his neck, switching them so that he’s on his back with her hovering over him.

However, anything more is cut short by that small interaction alone knocking the wind out of her.

Climbing off him, she moves onto her hands and knees, eyes shut and head dropped. Neither from feeling triggered or even being in pain, just exhaustion.

She’s so damn drained. 

In what feels like seconds, Roman is at her side, hand on her back. “Solana, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, answering quickly, “I’m just—tired.” More than what’s normal for her. Training is usually draining, but considering they haven’t even been at it that long, she’s confused as to why she’s getting so winded. Lifting her head, she offers a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“No.” Roman dismisses it with the quickness, directing to the others. “We’re done for the day.”

“Roman, I’m fine. I’m just—probably out of shape.” Maybe, but this feels beyond that. She’s just so fatigued. He helps her to her feet, Solana trying to bargain, “at least let me finish with Bayley?”

He’s not hearing it. “No. You clearly need to ease back into things.” She frowns. I thought I was. “Head to the showers.”

“Roman—”

“He’s right, Solana,” Naomi suddenly sounds, walking over with Bayley. “You’re clearly tired and just need to ease back into and relearn some things. That’s okay. We can do this another day. When you’re at 100.”

“Or maybe she can just continue to train with ya’ll—”

And in perfect synchronized dismissiveness, Roman, Bayley, and Naomi all shut Carmelo down with a simple, “shut up.”

It cracks a smile on Solana’s face. The fact that the majority of them are in agreement is enough to make her realize that they’re probably right in that she should try another day. Maybe even easing back into it. Not necessarily the part about relearning. She remembers everything. Recall is not the problem. This fatigue is, but a part of her is starting to think she knows what it might be.

Just why she’s so fatigued.

And in true Jimmy fashion, he blurts out with the ill timed question, “aye, Soso, what’s for dinner today?”

————

“So why exactly are you fighting again?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked this question. No, it’s been posed at least three different times prior to this occurrence. Just different wording. A different question that’s garnered the same kind of answer every single time. 

A part of her recognizes this, but a part of her also doesn’t care.

Solana has always been under the impression, and has essentially been told by several people, Roman included, that he doesn’t really fight in the ring anymore. That he doesn’t need to. That he doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, and those words came from him directly.

So, she was and still is, confused when he told her of a match he was competing in. The theme of the fight night being Bad Blood not helping much. At all.

Still, there was no way in hell she would miss attending. Even if her presence wasn’t something that’s technically mandatory. She wants to support him. She’s just nervous about the notion of him being in the ring again, recalling the last time she witnessed such a thing. It was brutal and bloody, and while he came out with the win, relatively unscathed, it still makes her nervous. Because there’s always a chance something can go wrong.

Because she always worries about him, and she’s pretty sure she always will. So long as he is who he is.

Roman, however, couldn’t give two shits about this fight with Drew. Tonight is more of a political move than anything, Roman needing a very public and brutal display of his prowess to remind everyone why he sits at the Head of the Table. It’s truly just an added bonus that he gets to kick the shit out of Drew in the process.

Or worse.

Roman is more focused, borderline distracted, by Solana. The sexy red dress she has on leaves little to the imagination with the low neckline, tight fit, and short length that stops about mid-thigh, rolling even higher as she’s propped on the bathroom counter. Her hair is pinned up, and her makeup is on the lighter, almost undetectable, side. His preference. She’s stunning with and without it, but there’s something he enjoys most seeing her in her natural state.

She just looks good as hell, and if not for the importance of this evening, he’d say fuck this damn match and Drew and spend the rest of the evening with her. A much more desirable and preferable option, truly. But, duty and obligation before anything. 

Even his fine ass wife.

Roman waits until he’s slid the black hoodie over his head, smirking a bit at the slight disappointment that appears on Solana’s face at him no longer being shirtless. He decides to slide through that crevice of brief deflection.

“You know the same way you look at me is the same way I look at and think about you.” He’s walking toward her, big hands carefully spreading her thighs so he can step in between her legs. This close, he’s granted a perfect view of her equally perfect breast. “All the damn time.”

He’s unsurprised when her cheeks redden nor when she says anything. “A challenge was issued, and I need to send a message.” That’s a much simpler way of explaining the full scope of just what tonight is, but he also doesn’t want to bombard her with information she doesn’t necessarily need to know.

She licks her lips, and he hates how sexual such an innocent act looks, especially when he knows that’s not her intent. “What—what kind of message?”

A potentially brutal, bloody message, but painting that picture for her beforehand might create some unnecessary anxiety. “A message that won’t need to be repeated.”

That seems to register for her as she asks, “Are—are you nervous?”

That actually makes Roman laugh. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt that emotion. It’s been years. Many decades. Moving his hands to her waist, he tugs her closer to him. “I don’t get nervous, Solana.”

“Ever?”

“Naw.”

She’s still looking at him with that same level of trepidation, maybe even a bit more heightened actually. “But….but you’re still careful, right?” It seems like an otherwise silly question with an obvious answer, but Roman can see where she’s coming from. The fear that fuels it. “Like….like you pay attention and stuff?”

“Of course,” his answer is gentle and patient. Two things reserved strictly and solely for her. “Solana, I’ve been fighting my whole life. I know what I’m doing.”

Her eyes widen, and he just knows he’s in for an unnecessary apology. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean—”

“Baby.” Yup. Just as he predicted. Bringing his hand to the back of her neck, Roman extends that tenderness, explaining, “I know what you meant. You’re worried, and you shouldn’t be. I’ve got this. Alright?”

She nods a little, and he’s relieved to see some of her apprehension has melted away. With the hand still on her hip, he gives her a light squeeze. “Come on.” Roman stays close as she carefully slides off the counter, her heels giving her a bit of a height boost, but not enough to make a substantial difference. He still towers over her.

And it’s in looking down at her from this angle, and the quick glance of her ass in this dress through the bathroom mirror, he makes a face. “Then again….” Roman slides his hand from the back of her neck, down until he’s palming and squeezing her ass. “Maybe this will be a bit of a distraction.”

“Roman!” She yelps, and he groans at the feel of her. She’s so damn fine and thick in all the right areas that it doesn’t even make sense.

He moves to take her hand, kissing it before guiding her out of the bathroom. “Come on. Before your fine ass makes us late.”

She giggles, holding onto his arm while he hits the light switch. “I didn’t even do anything.”

Roman says nothing, because if only she fucking knew.

If only.

————

Solana was half expecting to be separated from Roman once they reached the warehouse, him needing time to prepare for the fight and whatnot. And while the latter part was true, the first wasn’t. She’s thoroughly surprised when he instead guides her to the back with him to his sizable, impressive locker room.

Roman directs Solana to make herself comfortable, which is almost impossible to do.

It’s hard because she can’t stop thinking about the fact that her husband is going to be in the ring with that man who looked like he would have killed Roman right there on the spot, if he could. The same expression she’s certain he’ll have tonight when it’s just the two of them. 

A part of her is starting to wish she would have sat this one out. Stayed home tonight. Her hand falls to her stomach. That irksome, borderline nauseous feeling has been with her all day. On and off the past week, really. Since trying to return to training earlier in the week. She’s certain a chunk of it has been nerves, but the rest of it, maybe most of it, she’s almost certain, is early onset pregnancy symptoms. 

Just thinking about the fact that a baby, her baby, their baby is growing inside of her belly warms her entire soul. Temporarily distracts her from worrying about Roman. To wondering. Wondering which of his features their child will inherit. Will he or she have his dark, raven, wavy hair? His smoldering brown, almost hazel like eyes? Will the baby take after her brunette locks? Her nose?

In all honesty, she only wants a healthy child. That’s the most important thing, but it’s also hard for her to not lean more on the side of wanting the baby to be a boy. She knows how important producing an heir is. For the Bloodline. For Roman. Especially with how he’s gone above and beyond to keep pressure off them, off her regarding their lack of an heir.

It’s the least she can do for him. He deserves it. 

And she’d love more than anything to give it to him.

Roman stepping back into the vicinity briefly pulls her from her thoughts.

“You alright?”

Naturally, her hand falls from her stomach as she manages a small smile and nod. “Yeah.” She takes in his appearance, noticing his hair is wet and drenched, water droplets rolling down that nearly perfect body she’s grown to love pressed against hers. Not even just for sex. Just in general. Roman’s touch is calming to her. 

Climbing down off the table where she sits, she moves over to him. “Are you?”

He chuckles, hand to her hip. “Always.”

She has to believe that. 

Solana goes to kiss him when the Wise Man walks back in, forcing her to settle for a hand to his cheek. “Be careful.”

He clearly hears the presence of someone else and only nods, his eyes conveying the unspoken ‘I love you.’ She just offers him a warm smile before she retracts her hand and moves to leave the room, only providing her husband’s chief advisor a quiet ‘hello.’

Security escorts her up to the same VIP seating area as the last couple of times she’s attended events like this at the Warehouse. And as usual, Bayley and Naomi are already sitting and waiting for her. 

“Had to give your man that good luck quickie right before, huh?”

Bayley’s comment makes Solana blush and aware of the hickey on her neck she didn't even bother trying to hide. Or the one near her breast. 

“She didn’t deny it either,” Naomi snickers, playfully shoving Solana. 

Instead of acknowledging their innuendos, she utilizes an actual productive use of time. “I was thinking.”

“Listening,” Bayley responds, the two ladies keenly focused on the new topic. 

“Roman has to go out of town next week for……business.” She tries to not think too much about that. It’ll only spike her worry. 

“Who’s going to stay with you?” Naomi asks, gesturing to the two of them. “He didn’t ask us.” 

Solana swallows. That's definitely something she wants to work on with him. The fact that he still blames them for what happened. “Nia.”

“Nia?” 

To be fair, Solana had a bit of the same reaction when Roman first told her his cousin would be staying with her. She’s certain it was…..an interesting discussion, to say the least.

Solana shrugs. “She’s not that bad.” And it’s true. Solana has received much worse from people, in terms of treatment. “And it’s really just….to give me my medicine and stuff.” Because Roman seemed vehemently against and shut it down so fast when she even approached the idea of being able to handle it on her own. Not that….not that she can blame him, per se. “But, I was thinking. What if we went to Isla Mujeres for the weekend? Like that girls trip we were talking about.”

“You talk to Roman about it?”

Solana shakes her head, explaining. “Nia would be with us, so I’m sure he’d be fine.” Because she is. Now, if Nia doesn’t come along, then that’s another story. Though something tells her that once she tells Roman she wants to do this, he’ll find a way to make Nia go along with the plan. 

“I think it could be fun,” Naomi shares, rubbing her hands together. “From the pictures you showed us, the beach looks beautiful.”

“It is,” Solana smiles. “I want to invite Cam, Mickie, and Melina too.”

“So do it,” Bayley encourages. “It’s your girls trip. You decide on the guest list. Melina has always been cool. I didn’t know she…..struggled the way she does, but I’ve always liked her.” Solana is appreciative of Bayley’s handling of Melina’s mental health struggles. “And Cam and Mickie seem cool too.”

“They are,” Solana agrees. They really helped her time spent in the hospital and the treatment facility go a lot easier than it could have been. 

As per usual, conversation flows naturally between the ladies only to minimize once the night begins, all three paying attention to the various matches, mostly the ones that pertain to the Bloodline. 

So, really, Jimmy and Jey’s tag team match against two men that Solana doesn’t recognize, which, of course, the twins come out with the win for. And Roman’s match, the last of the night, because no one comes after the Tribal Chief.

The complete shift in energy when Roman enters the space is truly something to behold. His power and dominance is felt in every square inch of the building. Undeniable excellence and power penetrating almost. She can’t take her eyes off him, his face stoic, determined, focused.

She can see why he doesn’t get nervous. He seems so in his element in this space. Even as Drew comes out with that same level of determination, an almost hatred splayed across his face as he looks over at Roman with ardent vitriol.

Her husband, however, is unbothered.

As he is with most things in life.

Still, the fact that Drew is about what and what with Roman in regards to build and size has her anxiety festering. She knows and has seen for herself how flawless Roman is in the ring. That doesn’t mean she can’t worry though. Can’t wait for this to all just be over with so they can go home.

So she can start figuring out just how she wants to tell him about the pregnancy.

But, that’s a then thing, and this is very much here and now.

The sound of the bell fills the Warehouse as the boisterous crowd continues to erupt, excited to see their Tribal Chief in action.

If only she could relate. 

For the most part, the match starts off as expected, Roman being in the lead, staying one or several steps ahead of Drew, expertly dodging or countering hits. Solana is practically on the edge of her seat, chewing on her bottom lip, watching every single piece of the fight. From Roman’s steps to Drew’s lunges to the way both men who seem too large for life go at it like two titans.

Of course, despite looking like one, Roman is no God. He’s still a man, a man who takes several hits from Drew, one making Solana wince. However, she learned from the night of WarGames, Roman hates being hit. It only pisses him off more than he naturally is at any given point. 

And that’s proven in the increased brutality of Roman’s hits, Drew being the first to have blood spilled as Roman smashes his head in the steel staircase. 

It’s a quick shift though that she somehow misses, because Drew suddenly has Roman in a painful looking headlock. One he seems to take too long to get out of, for her comfort. 

Solana moves to the absolute edge of her seat, panic starting to set in the longer Roman’s airway is restricted. And then she sees the way Drew’s mouth moves, the snarl and subsequent smirk as he says something to Roman. Roman’s briefly stunned eyes flickering to hers, but it’s so short, too short to process. Because just as quickly as he was looking at her, he’s managed his way out of the headlock, sending the other man to the ground. Roman wastes no time jumping on top of him, gaining and taking full advantage of the upper hand, raining blow on top of blow on Drew with a pace and aggression that seems almost inhuman.

The light blue of the mat is suddenly splashed and splayed with blood. Drew’s. Roman’s chest and fist also stained, Solana wincing a bit as even from a distance she sees the way Drew's face has become almost disfigured by blood, bruising, and swelling. 

He’s clearly lost consciousness, but that doesn’t stop Roman.

No, instead a deep frown falls on her face as she watches Roman move outside of the ring and lift up the metal staircase that he brings back into the ring with him. She turns her head right before the impact between the steps and the unconscious man.

Unalive man, because there’s no way Drew is still breathing. Not with the severity of the beating. 

Bayley and Naomi are clearly also taken back by witnessing a live murder but clearly do their best not to make it a thing for her sake. She’s appreciative, but it still doesn’t delete her confusion towards Roman’s behavior.

Overkill. Barbaric. Sadistic, almost. 

And with all of that, the confliction she’s experiencing, Solana can only think of one thing, what the hell happened in that ring to bring about that kind of rage in her husband?

————

Roman doesn’t say much to her.

It’s not surprising. She’s not quite sure what there is to say. Him viciously beating a man to death isn’t, at the core of it, something that needs explaining.

That doesn’t stop her from trying to almost dance around the subject. Asks him if he’s feeling alright, if he wants her to fix him anything, and things of the sort. It doesn’t do much. His responses are minimal, a few words to each statement, at best.

It bothers her to know something is bothering him, that he won’t talk to her, but also, Solana can admit she’s not sure how to talk with him about this.

She’d certainly do her best though, if he was actually willing to open up to her. 

She doesn’t force it though, just welcomes his arms around her as they lay in bed, eventually falling asleep together. 

However, Dulce does what Dulce does best and wakes up in the middle of the night, politely reminding her parents of her small bladder. Regardless of her sleep intrusion, Solana is grateful to be able to escort their puppy out of the room without disturbing her husband’s much needed and deserved sleep. 

But, it’s as Dulce seems to take her sweet time finding the perfect spot to relieve herself that Solana frowns. Lifting her hand to her breast, she’s taken back by the tenderness of the touch. New and out of the norm. 

Another……symptom?

Even with the night’s unexpected events, as much as she’s trying to not allow herself to get too excited at the possibility of being pregnant, it’s hard not to. Especially with the strange onset of symptoms she’s been experiencing all week. Some seen before or during her cycle, but some new and unfamiliar. And a quick google search confirmed they in fact could be early pregnancy symptoms.

But still, Solana has gained enough self-introspection to know that a negative test would be…..difficult for her to process. Something she doesn’t really even want to think about, hence why she’s not allowing herself to fully acknowledge that she’s probably pregnant.

Because the alternative would be…..not the desired outcome.

It’s as she observes the backyard, seeing the reflection of the lights above the pool that a random thought crosses her mind. A question, rather. Would they have to cover up the pool when the baby starts crawling? What other changes around the house would have to be implemented for safety reasons? Most definitely, they’d have to stock up on those baby proof outlet covers. And maybe even block off the staircase.

Something tells her any child of her husband would be mobile. On the run. A small smile settles on her face, her hand falling to her belly as she once again mentally puts together what their child will look like. Him. Her. Both of them.

Both would be her preference. Roman would be a close second.

Dulce’s short legs carry her back into the house, her wagging tale eliciting a smile and small laugh. “Good job—”

“Where the hell were you?”

Solana jumps and gasps. Outside of his sudden presence in the living room startling her, Roman's tone and volume indicate a level of irritation that doesn’t quite compute. Doesn’t make sense. Where else would she have been? 

Confused, she answers, “Dulce had to use the bathroom...”

This didn’t seem to be the answer he neither wanted nor needed. His expression is sharp. “So you went out there alone?”

This brings a frown to her face, a contrast to her almost jovial disposition not even minutes prior. Solana points out in a calm voice, “Roman, I–I always go alone.”

“Not anymore.” She can’t protest, because he adds. “Wake me up, and if I’m not here, let her use the damn crate.”

“But—”

“You heard what I said!”

His voice bounces off the walls and echoes through the hall, but it’s Solana’s jump away from him that seems to trigger something for Roman. His expression immediately softens. “Shit, I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

She says nothing for a good minute before quickly deciding that beating around the bush isn’t the way to go in this situation.

She needs to be direct.

“Ro….what happened tonight?” 

She’d briefly played around with the idea of bringing it up to him or letting it lie. Obviously, the latter is not the best route to go. “You….you were off. You lost control, and that’s….that’s not like you.”

In the ring is when she’s noticed he’s most controlled, never allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment and actions because he recognizes the detriment it would cause. Yes, he’s violent and brutal, but it’s still controlled. Not tonight. …tonight she saw that impulsive, emotion driven man she’d heard whispers about over the years. Tonight, she saw him take a man’s life, and not in a controlled methodical way, but in a moment of pure rage and spontaneity. 

She’d never tell him this, never allow it to leave her mouth, but for a split second, it scared her. Solana wasn’t naive enough to truly think that his kindness or love toward her made him any less of a cold-blooded killer. And she knows, without a shadow of a doubt that he would never hurt her or direct his anger towards her.

But.

 But, the look in his eyes tonight…it was as if he had no soul. 

And that….that is what scared her. 

His gaze darts to the corner of the room, an intentional act to avoid her own, she’s sure. “He pissed me off.”

“Ro….people piss you off all the time, and you don’t beat them to death like you did him.” It’s such a strange experience, speaking with him so casually. Solana can still recall the tightness in her chest every time she was in the vicinity of this man, the fear she struggled to manage when even looking at him, often keeping her gaze downward. And now, she’s pushing him on what is obviously a lie. Or a deep state of denial. “He—he said something to you.” That’s when he finally sets his eyes on her. “I–I saw it.”

“Does it matter now?” 

“Yes—yes, it does, because you just snapped at me for taking our dog out to use the bathroom, something I’ve done for months now.” It’s not until saying that aloud that a thought crosses her mind. “Was—was it about me? Did—did he say something about me?” And when he says nothing, doesn’t deny it or push back or even snap at her again that she realizes that’s exactly what it was.

And it confuses the mess out of her. 

What could have been said to cause him to react so violently? Even more, how could it have been any different from the shit talking they all do in the ring?

“I don’t—I don’t understand.” Her eyes follow him as he moves toward the living room, sitting on the edge of the sofa. Tentatively and without much thought, her legs carry her toward him, but she stops just shy of being at arms length. Noticing this, Roman motions her closer with his index finger. And as soon as she’s close enough, he tugs her onto his lap. Seeing the conflict in his eyes, she moves her hand to his bicep. “Baby, please talk to me…..”

Like many, if not any, interaction with her comforting urge, Roman finds it difficult to deny her. He struggles to push back those words that have secretly haunted him even hours after he put a permanent end to McIntyre. 

“You really think you can keep her safe?” His cruel taunt, wicked smile revealing the blood building in his mouth, coating his teeth. “She’ll die just like rest of your fucking fam—”

“Ro…”

And it's her soft voice that pulls him from the memory as he shares with her what was said. “He said I couldn’t keep you safe, that you’d die like the rest of my family.” She gasps. Whatever was said had to have been bad and most likely somehow about her. She just didn’t know it would be that.

Shaking her head, she pushes his hair back. “He was just…he was just trying to get in your head.” And I think it worked. Solana would never verbalize as such to Roman, but it’s a thought she can’t dismiss. She’s never seen him this bothered. “Nothing—nothing’s going to happen to me, Ro.”

“I told you before that I don’t—I don’t feel things like you. That I don’t—feel anything.” She remembers it vividly. That conversation between them that was during the early days of their love story. Something that feels so long ago now. “I was wrong. I’ve—I’ve always felt anger, but now I’m feeling other things too, and I don’t know how—” He stops himself, clearly changing directions. “I’m sorry I did that in front of you—”

“It’s fine, Ro. I—” Because despite that brief second of ear, her first and foremost concern is him. It’s always him. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sharing in an almost unsure voice. “I count your pills every day before I go to bed.” She’s still, unmoving, unsure how to process such a thing. Because she knows why, exactly why he does that. And it nearly breaks her heart in fucking half. “Losing you is the only thing in this fucking world that scares me.” Voice shifting into something desperate and almost vulnerable, he says with all the conviction. “Because, I can’t lose you, Sol.” His gaze is on her, burning with determination. And need. “I won’t.”

“And you won’t.” Her hands move to his face, beard bristling against the skin on her palms. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” She places an almost tentative, chaste kiss to his temple, noticing how his eyes close after. As if he’s more at peace. “Roman, I am with you until my dying breath, and that won’t be happening anytime soon. Not for you. Not for me.”

And not for their child growing inside of her.

“Why don’t—why don’t we go see Fetu this weekend?” It’s technically early Saturday morning already, and Solana returns to work Monday, but even just a day or two spent with his aunt could probably make a difference for her husband who she sees needs to get away. “Or even if you just go—I can stay—”

“No.” His voice is still low, but it’s not as weighed down. She’s grateful for at least that. “She’d be pissed if I showed up without you.” The hint of humor in his voice makes her heart swell. 

“We’ll go.” It’s not necessarily a suggestion anymore. It’s a plan. “You’ll clear your head, and everything will be better, okay?” He looks at her, nodding quietly. Solana makes a mental note to make sure to pack one or two pregnancy tests, because what better way to break the news to him than being able to tell Fetu right after? Together.

It seems like a perfect plan to her. 

Noticing Dulce has already left and went back upstairs, Solana suggests the same to her husband. “Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

It’s then that Solana realizes his hand on her hip is moving in slow, soothing circles. She can’t tell if it’s for his comfort or hers. Placing her hand over his, she gives a gentle tug, moving off his lap but never allowing her hand to leave his. 

His movements are slow initially, but he stands up and allows her to guide them up the stairs and back into their bedroom. Solana easily resumes their earlier sleeping position, grateful and thankful when he kisses her temple and murmurs, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

The exact moment when she falls asleep, or even when he does, is unknown. But what is known is when she’s woken up to the sound of grunts and muttered protests.

“I’ve gotta….save…them.”

Solana blinks and rubs at her eyes. “Ro?”

Sitting up, she sees him twisting and turning, an almost distressed look on his handsome face. Her heart drops. A nightmare. He’s having a nightmare.

Naturally, Solana moves her hand to his shoulder, shaking him a bit. “Roman, wake up.” She might as well have done nothing, because he’s continuing to stir, mumbling in Samoan. Voice so low that even if she did speak the language, she wouldn’t hear him. 

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs on top of him, straddling him as she continues her efforts to awaken him. “Roman, baby, please wake up.” It’s both familiar and unfamiliar. She knows this struggle very well. Has lived through it almost her entire life, but she’s never been on this end. Been on the side of watching someone go through it.

Least of all, Roman. 

And she hates it. Hates it with everything in her because she knows how heavy and devastating it is to be sucked into reliving trauma. That’s why she ups the ante, raising her voice and essentially hitting him on his shoulders.

“Roman! Wake u—”

“No!” 

It all happens so fast. Almost too fast for Solana to truly process what’s occurring in the moment. It’s only afterwards that she can recount it, can recall what just happened, can process that at the same time she went to try to save him from himself, Roman shot awake with an instinctive swing, a natural, almost protective thing that results in Solana shoved to the edge of the bed, mouth open, holding onto her face. 

It’s an instant stinging sensation, a dull, throbbing pain that she hasn’t felt in some time and never anticipated feeling as a result of her own husband. 

A husband who is now awake and also aware of what just happened. His widened eyes and open mouth are on her as Solana winces a bit and flexes her jaw, trying to gather herself. He’s up. That’s the only thing that matters. 

“Oh my God.” She’s not sure she’s ever heard Roman sound so horrified. “Solana—”

Her name is enough to pull her back to him, Solana climbing on his lap, shaking her head as she cups his face. “It’s okay. I’m—I’m okay—”

“I hit you….”

Even him saying it aloud seems and feels wrong to Solana. “No, baby—you were having a nightmare. It wasn’t like that—”

“I hit you, Solana.” He’s not even looking at her, looking down, perplexed, disturbed with himself, clearly trying to sit on this unfathomable thing. 

“Roman, I’m fine. Really.” Her face is throbbing, and she’s certain she’ll have a bruise come morning, but it’s nothing compared to what she’s received in the past. From the actual hitting she used to be on the receiving end of. From her dad and brother. “Ro, I did the same thing to you, remember? I—I ripped out your stitches.” It’s something she felt horrified at herself for in the moment. Probably close to what he’s feeling even though she’d rather he not because he’s done nothing wrong. “Baby—”

Shaking his head, Roman lowers her hands from his face. “I’m sorry.” She goes to reassure him that he’s fine, that she’s fine, but Roman is fast, easily moving the blankets off him, forcing her to the side, off him. 

“Roman, no—” She scrambles off the bed as he goes for the door of their bedroom, effectively planting herself in front of it. “No, you’re not leaving.”

He closes his eyes, his voice almost desperate. “Solana, please.”

“No!” Raising her voice wasn’t an intentional thing, just a result of her own emotions brewing in this moment. She’s not even thinking about herself, about the pain in her face. She’s just thinking about the man in front of her who looks disgusted with himself. “Roman, I am fine.”

Because she is.

Because even with all of her trauma, having been hurt so deeply and badly by men, Roman unintentionally striking her didn’t fill her with an ounce of fear. Didn’t make her want to put as much distance between them as possible. Didn’t have any effect on how she sees and feels about him.

She could only focus on him and how distressing his nightmare must have been to result in such a response. 

“I hurt you….” It’s the way his voice almost wavers with the word ‘hurt’ along with his fraught countenance that has her chest tightening. She’s never seen him look so upset, and the fact that it’s solely directed toward himself is gut-wrenching. 

“No,” her voice catches in the back of throat, eyes watering. She reaches up and cups his face. “Baby, listen to me. You could never hurt me.”

Something flashes in his eyes, something akin to anger as he asks in a tight voice, “But, I did." She shakes her head, ready to stand here all night trying to convince him that he’s not in the wrong when he takes it a step further. “How is it any different from your dad and brother?”

It’s an active effort to not back away from him, to not drop her hands and for no reason other than putrid disgust. Disgust that he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. To put himself into that category. 

Solana swallows, specifically choosing each and every word that leaves her mouth. “Roman…I was raped. Violently. For—for hours. I couldn’t—I couldn’t walk afterwards.” She hates talking about this, hates reliving the horrors just from recounting, but she’ll do just about anything to wipe away that gutted, guilty look on her husband’s face. “Wes—Wes was the reason I first started cutting myself, because—” She closes her eyes, having never said these words aloud to anyone. “Because he made me do it. He said it was my—my punishment for getting our mother killed. And eventually….eventually I started to believe him, so I just started doing it to myself, because I thought it was what I deserved.” Another deep, shaky exhale. “My own father tried to kill me.” Roman’s expression slips into something in the vein of surprised. Confused even. Horrified, mostly. “I tried to run away once, and he put me in the hospital for two weeks and told me that if I ever tried to leave again that he’d— he’d make sure to finish the job.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, and truth be told, she’s not sure she wants him to. She just wants him to listen, really listen and allow her words to penetrate his thick layer of undeserved guilt. “You are the first man in my life to never hurt me the way I’ve been hurt, so don’t you ever fucking say again that you hurt me or put yourself in the same category as those bastards. You are nothing like them.” Because she’d rather walk barefoot on burning coal for the rest of her life than for him to ever even think he’s in the same group as them. “So, please, please just—” 

Solana feels it rising, traveling up her body at the most impromptu time. “Shit,” she curses, slapping her hand over her mouth as she dashes to the bathroom, hitting the light, barely making it to the toilet that, thankfully, is already open and ready for her to deposit what feels like everything she ate that day into the commode.

It’s such a miserable, uncomfortable experience, more or less dry heaving over the toilet in the middle of the night. 

Just added to the list of unfortunate things that have happened. A heavy wave of exhaustion washes over her as she lays her head down on her arm that’s stretched across the toilet seat. She feels like shit, and it has nothing to do with what just happened.

If only she could tell her husband that.

Because Roman is suddenly behind her, hand on the small of her back, asking if she’s alright. Glancing over at him, she shakes her head, mustering up a quiet excuse of it probably being something she ate.

He doesn’t look convinced, and Solana knows it’s because he’s somehow connecting this to what just happened. She’d give anything to be able to wipe that belief from his mind, to tell him it’s just morning sickness, a common pregnancy symptom.

Because with all of the dots connecting, there’s no doubt in Solana’s mind. Any test would just be a formality. She knows her body. 

She knows that she’s pregnant.

But, something tells her that telling Roman this will only make things worse. Make him feel even more guiltier than what he’s already experiencing. Would kill him to know he ‘hit’ her while she’s carrying his child. 

This isn’t the way she wants to tell him, either. Not like this. No, it needs to be…..special. After all he’s done and probably had to put up with in order to explain them not producing a child after almost eight months of marriage. She can’t announce it like this. 

He deserves better.

The wave passes as Solana stands up and flushes the toilet, moving over to the sink to brush her teeth, praying that’s the extent of it. For now, at least. Roman is watching and observing her closely the whole time. 

Mouth clean and stripped, somewhat, of that bitter aftertaste, she takes his hand and guides him back to their bedroom. Gratitude fills her when he doesn’t protest the way she practically climbs on top of him, her body resting on his, an intentional position to prevent him from trying to leave out without her noticing. 

“Stay with me….” It’s the only thing that leaves her mouth, a soft but firm delivery. It’s the only thing she wants and needs in this moment, for his arms to remain around her, holding her, the same way she’s holding him. 

The way she'll always hold onto him.

————

It’s purely a stroke of luck that allows Roman to wake up at the call of his biological clock and find that Solana is no longer atop him but sleeping on her side, back toward him, deeply immersed in much deserved slumber. 

But, it's not even a minute later that a heaviness overtakes him as he’s quickly reminded of what happened. Of what he did. What he did to her.

Roman doesn’t hesitate to carefully climb out of bed and move to Solana’s side, hitting the switch on the lamp for a clear presentation. Something he wasn’t ready for. Not in the slightest.

“Jesus Christ….”

Dread fills him all over again with the illumination of the lamp on Solana’s nightstand. Gives him a full, unobstructed view of the left side of her face. A not even fully formed, nasty looking bruise marring her features.

Roman knew that he had to hit her hard, that she had to be downplaying the impact, but the big ass, dark bruise can’t hide the hideous truth. The extent is ugly and evident. It’s a fucking miracle he didn’t fracture or break something. Because he absolutely could have. Not that that makes a huge difference, because regardless of the severity, he hit her. 

He fucking hit her. 

It feels undeserving, the way he reaches his hand to gently caress her marred face. His stomach clenches as he mutters the three words that could never change, lessen or take back what he’s done.

“I’m so sorry….” Because he is. Because Roman’s list of regrets in life is minimal. Less than the average person, of this, he’s sure. But this, what happened last night is easily at the top of that list. He doesn’t hesitate to turn the switch off, not wanting to have to see the consequences of his horrific actions, even if he should.

Even if he should have to face it. Should have to be faced with the one thing he swore he would never do.

Because that’s exactly what he’s done.

He doesn’t bother waking her up for her medication. Just leaves it in a small, ramekin-like bowl for her to take whenever she wakes up. With the night she had, he hopes she sleeps for a couple more hours.

And he’s grateful for the time he has to himself, to workout, to shower, to think, to act. Even if it’s all a bit of a blur.

Years. It’s been years since he’s experienced that type of rage. Since he’s blacked out like that. Because that’s exactly what happened. Roman remembers Drew’s ominous threat, recalls the beginning of the beating, but most after that is blotchy. Blurred. And the last time he felt that way….was the night he killed Rhodes' family.

Not that he regretted it then or now. Even Drew. No, what he regrets and doesn’t know how to process is that he lost that control in front of his wife. That he lost it with his wife, resulting in her battered face. 

Despite the horrors of trauma she’s experienced at the hands of men in her life and the fact that what happened was unintentional, it doesn’t negate what he did. It was wrong, and she didn’t deserve it. 

She doesn’t deserve to put up with any of the shit he’s dealing with right now.

What happened with Jey was something he hated having to do in front of her, but this….this is entirely different.

A line was completely crossed.

And it can’t happen again.

Much later that morning, closer to noon than anything is when Roman finds her in the kitchen changed out of her pajamas and into short shorts and a shirt. Normally, he’d be focused on how good she looks and how much he appreciates seeing her confidence grow to where she doesn’t try to hide her body. But, it’s hard with the dark bruising on her face.

She’s clearly in the middle of fixing something but walks over to him, warm smile on her face as she places her hand on his chest. “There you are.” She leans up and kisses him, sharing, “I was wondering when you’d come out. I’m fixing us lunch right quick before we get on the road.”

She turns back towards the counter right as he says her name. “Solana—”

“Do you want anything in particular?”

“Solana.”

“I can make—”

“Solana.” He says it a third and final time, seeing the way she pauses. Deflection. It’s intentional. She can clearly tell something is wrong. With a slow turn to look at him again, it takes everything in him to not look away. The fucking bruise. “I’m leaving tonight.”

Her small smile immediately drops into a deep scowl. “Wh—what?” He briefly redirects his gaze, focusing on the laces of his sneakers instead of the disappointment he knows he’s about to lay on her. “You want—you want to get on the road tonight?”

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to bite the bullet. There’s no need in stretching this out. “No, Solana, I’m—I’m flying out to Italy tonight.”

Nothing could have prepared him for the gutted look on her face. She’s clearly confused, smartly pointing out, “but—but you said you weren’t leaving until next week.”

His jaw clenches as he answers so calmly. “Plans changed.”

Her gaze is intense, her eyes never leaving his. “The plans changed or you changed them?” He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. She already knows the answer. Solana swallows, eyes watering as she walks over to him. “Please don’t do this. Roman, what happened wasn’t your fault. I’m fine.”

“Solana, you are not fine. Have you seen your face?” It’s not intended to be harsh, and the coarseness in his tone is truly directed to no one but himself. “I know my strength. You know my strength. It’s a fucking miracle it’s not worse than what it already is. If I had hit you hard enough and at the right angle—”

“But, you didn’t.” She knows exactly what he’s getting at, and she refuses to allow him to travel down that dark 'what if' road. “Ro, I know you’re upset with yourself, but please don’t do this. You don’t need to leave. I don’t want you to leave.”

And deep down, he doesn’t want to leave. Would love to stay here and just go see his aunt with his wife, but that won’t solve anything. It’s putting an old band-aid on an open, deep wound. He needs to separate himself so that he can turn his feelings completely off. Disconnect and detach. 

Or sort through in a way that is violent and unacceptable here. Especially around Solana.

And that’s exactly what being in Italy, being around those people, could do for him. 

Roman tries to explain as such to his wife without going into too much detail.

“You’re right. I do need to get away. But, going by Fetu isn’t going to help this.” It’s not going to help, because he doesn’t have an abundance of confusion he needs to sort through. He has anger, aggression, rage. All unlocked by fucking McIntyre that he needs to do away with, and being around his aunt, cousin, and even wife won’t do it. “We can go when I get back—”

She closes her eyes. “Roman—”

“Solana.” He’ll be honest, he expected her to not be happy with his decision, but her level of emotionality seems on the higher end of normal. She seems more emotional than usual. “I love you.” And he always will. “But, what happened last night can’t happen again.”

He won’t let it happen again.

“What if—what if I leave?” She suggests, Roman frowning at the almost desperation in her tone. “I can go stay with Naomi or Bayley for a couple days. Give—give you space.”

“Solana—”

“Hell, even Nia, if that would make you feel better.”

“Sol—”

“Just please.” Her voice cracks as she grabs onto his shirt, begging almost, “please don’t leave me.” She buries herself into his chest, Roman holding her, wanting to assure her that he’s not leaving her. He’s leaving the situation to get a clear mind, to figure out what he needs to do. 

Because he wasn’t lying when he said there’s nothing in this world that scares him more than losing her. Than something happening to her. 

He just could have never anticipated that he could ever be a direct reason for something happening to her.

That something bad—or worse—could happen to her at his hands.

Because he swore he’d always protect her. 

And he always will.

Even if that danger is himself.

Even if it means doing what neither of them may want but is ultimately what’s best for her. 

Even if it breaks the heart that will always belong to her. 

Whether they’re together or not.

[genderlessdude92]

Hi, I really love your work! If your requests are open and if it's allowed, can I request for headcanons of Vox/Val/Alastor/Lucifer with their biological baby w reader?? I'm sorry if this is weird I just die for family dynamics😭😭 like, how would they act, would they be present or neglectful, and that stuff!! Ik it's impossible to have a child in hell but HEY. ITS FICTIONAL. It's really your decision if this is super fluff or super angst, but personally I believe it would be angst because it's hell and they are really famous 😭 THANKU

AUTHOR RESPONSE: First ask but urmmmmmm OFC OFC OFC!!! I’m all in for dis req :3 I feel like i absolutely will eat up Al’s part of this post so stay tuned. Other ones are questionable because idk if it’s OOC or not but…I’m just a girl!! >.< (I’m a genderless dude as you can see from the name ^^) I’m sorry i’m not funny- These might be short btw im rushing a little bit bc i’m trying to start a multi-chapter fix yay awesome but uhhh i’m still having fun with this 💋

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

AL, VOX, VAL, & LUCI WITH THEIR BIOLOGICAL CHILD

(and reader that gave birth to em somehow <3)

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, Vox x Reader, Valentino x Fem!Reader (ALL SEPARATE) SUMMARY: Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, and Valentino are dads now. Aw shucks. (Headcannons) WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Breeding kink, (obv bc Val is in here), Val mention, reader is female because they literally gave birth to them, mentions of pregnancy, birth, Valentino being a weird fuck, Valentino again, unhealthy duck obsession in Lucifer’s area, Breastfeeding, Cannibalism, physical slaps, everybody being nervous shots but Vox, really rushed, lmk if i missed anything pookie (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Alastor is 100% nervous at first since he has to be the dad and his dad wasn’t…the best!! ^^

-But also doesn’t want to back away because, I mean, it’s kinda rude to just walk away from your creation that you INTENDED to make real.

-This gentleman’s baby was not an accident, I assure you.

-Alastor would absolutely dangle the baby off the edge of a balcony just to tease you.

-Also tried to feed the baby devil meat to make it a cannibal.

-Suprisingly worked.

-Um.

-He probably got taught to knit by Rosie so if the baby ever needs clothes he’s on it.

-Cradles the baby during his radio show hours, aw, and if the baby ever cries he immediately cuts to a quick song break.

-If both you and Alastor are like completely booked and can’t take care of the baby, he’s giving it to Rosie.

-Rosie can’t? Charlie.

-Charlie can’t? Cancelling all plans.

-He just cares for his bloodline, yeah?

-If the baby ever needs like a chewy sensory toy, he’s going to try and get one that resembles Lucifer.

-Like and apple or a snake OOO A SNAKE NVM

-Snake is better since it resembles two ppl mwuhehehe

-Alastor would be a great girl dad but in general i think he would be rlly doting to them.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Oh, you thought Alastor was nervous?

-Oh, you’re so funny.

-‘Cuz Lucifer is QUAKING once he finds out you’re pregnant.

-and expecting.

-…and that it’s alive and out the womb.

-Basicslly all because he wasn’t really in Charlie’s life that much.

-But you told him that this can be a second chance?

-Which made him cry more than he was before.

-Yikes.

-Feeds the baby the most fine meals to ever exist for a baby to eat, even tried to sneak in some wine in its milk bottle.

-Then earned a slap at the back of his head from yours truly.

-You.

-I see him as a helicopter parent at first, but then is just chill once they grow more older.

-But he’s like, devoting his immortal LIFE to this baby 24/7.

-The nursery is themed ducks.

-Everywhere.

-Sometimes you get dizzy when you walk in.

-He even wanted to name the baby duck.

-You slapped him again, of course.

-This man acts like a 8th grade frat boy whenever you breast feed the baby like he just scoots away gagging.

-Another slap.

IM SORRY-

-One time in bed you guys were like getting freaky or sum and then you but his nip

-“Honey…what was that?”

-“That’s just how it feels, Luci.”

-“…What?-“

-“When i breastfeed B/N.”

-“…Ew.”

-“BITCH I-“

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Bro is so confident in being a dad.

-The first day after the baby was born he cancelled all his special guests on his show just for the baby to be the only one.

-This man is fucking insane.

-Puts this baby on his. advertisements.

-We’re talking billboards, pop-ups, etc.

-Only lets his supervisor babysit the baby when needed.

-Don’t expect Velvette or Val to even step foot near this baby without Vox in the room.

-It’s like a sibling love-hate relationship :D

-Now i wouldn’t say this baby was on purpose…most likely?

-But honestly, it might happen again because he thinks you’re hot pregnant.

-Who said that what.

-Omg who typed that???

-Fuck this is so short uhhh He like puts on child shows for the baby if they sit in his lap.

-But the baby never ever sleeps in the bed you guys share.

-not in a million years.

-Puts those shirts that look like tuxedos on the baby but they’re just printed on.

-Feeds the baby deer meat.

-Has a deer head mounted above the baby’s crib.

-Takes him deer hunting.

-Vox just needs em to learn early.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Valentino was “so, so careful” when you guys did it.

-and this baby was 100% and accident.

-obviously you guys couldn’t abortion because like some health reason.

-Val cried that night.

-It was kinda funny that he was crying to keeping a baby.

sorry not sorry

-When the baby is born,

-Oh god should i write that

-Uh

-He’s probably recording.

-Not posting just like…saving it.

-Guys, come on, it Valentino, you should’ve seen this coming.

-Deletes it later though fuck that’s hilarious.

-He starts whining and crying when he sees you breastfeeding.

-“Your wasting the milk, mi precioso, are you kidding me?”

-He’s like in the middle of being a good dad and a bad dad.

-Suprised he made it that far on the scale.

-whenever he’s busy, he gives the baby to some random star and tells them to bring them back by like 10:30 or smth.

-with a coffee order. Very iconic.

-Same idea with Vox and liking you pregnant, and tried to get you pregnant again but you ask him why he doesn’t have a condom on if you don’t have your pills.

-He gets frustrated when that happens lol.

-Can’t wake up the baby!

proceeds to wake them up each night

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: zomg this was sososo fun to write <3 But it’s so fucking short and i didn’t even realize until i was done. I’m actually so sorry. I still like these headcannons, very humorous, very real, thank you for asking me to make this because this is my first ask i got, i still have exactly 16 more, so ur just a little lucky duck, asker. Support is appreciated! New multi-chapter fix i’m working on might be posted on Friday-Sunday!! Baiiii!!!!

-Lynn

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

Masterlist Link

[coeurify]

LACY, OH LACY

ellie williams.

·˚ ༘ * “like ribbons in your hair, my stomach’s all in knots. you got the one thing that i want."

pairing: ellie williams x f!reader. summary: you’ve got the one thing ellie wants, and it’s rotting her thoughts of you. based on lacy by olivia rodrigo. warning: my first go at true angst, but a happy ending! i took a much sadder direction with the song lol. reader is described as having a father figure. looks of reader never described beside that there’s ribbons in their hair. they/them pronouns used. for a GUTS writing challenge in writing server!

Envy was a nasty thing. Ellie knew that. Ellie knew that the way her lip curled down upon the sight of your frame disappearing into the Tipsy Bison in Jackson was unfair.

Ellie knew that the way her body tensed whenever you were followed quickly by an older man, one who grumbled and wiped at his sleepy eyes, wasn’t fair. The way she turned on her heel and walked away each time she saw you two, the pebbles under the toe of her converse being kicked away, that wasn’t fair either.

But god, did it tie her stomach in tiny little knots, ones that made it hard to swallow, hard to look away when your shining eyes met her’s across the street somedays.

Sometimes, she tries to blame it on sleep. She tells herself the angry feeling bubbling in her stomach is simply a result of the sleepless nights. Of the shaking and panting breaths that shoot from her as she awakes from another never ending nightmare.

But most days, she realizes it’s only an excuse. This sick feeling is reserved only for you, and Ellie wishes she could swallow it down like a shot, but it instead pools in her mouth, poisoning her movements, her thoughts, her everything around you.

When you smile the smile Ellie knew all too well, It only made her feel worse. It shouldn’t, really, Ellie should quirk her lips up in response, wave you over maybe. Joel would have insisted. But lately she just raised a hand in a softer, colder response before finding a new corner to escape down.

Hell, if Joel was here, if things were different, he would have tilted his chin up knowingly when Ellie’s own chin jutted down at the sight of you, her cheeks painted pink with something akin to affection, rather than the near constant shade of frighteningly pale her face seemed to be lately.

He had done so a million times.

When Ellie was only a measly sixteen, telling Joel she just couldn't let you stay the night while Joel and your old man went on a particularly long patrol.

“I barely even know them!” Ellie had fought, her arms crossed over the quickly beating heart in her chest. She knew you, she knew you liked to wear ribbon in your hair, she knew your favorite color was blue because your favorite shoes were that color, and she knew you were pretty. So fucking pretty, the kind that made her stomach turn all mushy and gross when she tried to talk to you over the semi regular shared dinners Joel and a few other older men around town had insisted upon.

Joel just shook his head, seemingly fighting back one of those chuckles that made it sound like he knew something Ellie didn’t. Ellie hated when he did that. “You know them well enough, kid.” was all Joel had responded, patting Ellie’s slumped back.

Joel did it when you coaxed Ellie out of her little garage for dinner inside of Joel’s, a few years later. He would never say anything, not when he could barely get Ellie to say hello anymore, but a look was all that was needed. Green meeting a more tired looking brown for just a split second, and Ellie knew. Joel saw right through the nervous looks Ellie threw your way, saw through how Ellie insisted on totally platonically complimenting you every time you walked through the door. Ellie’s knees were always pointed your way at the table, and Joel always saw.

“They’re pretty,” Joel said later that night, voice careful as he watched Ellie, who watched the dishes she silently cleaned off the table. “Sweet too, too sweet for a hell like this.” Joel could barely finish the words before he heard the creak of the door, before the house was quiet again.

The last time you were brought up, Ellie remembers being cold. She’s often cold now, but the night on the porch was one of the first truly cold nights in Jackson. It stung her nose while she walked outside of the Tipsy Bison, leaving a crowd of shocked faces.

She felt stupid, so stupid that it made the wind feel even icier against her skin. God, why did she have to dance with Dina? Her eyes had been settled on you all fucking night, but Dina was always a firecracker, always tugging Ellie to dance or talk loudly at the bar top. Ellie couldn’t stop heaving as she slammed the door. Did you think they were together too? Did you think Dina was leaning in to kiss her like Seth thought? Dina wasn’t. Ellie wanted to tell you that as soon as Dina’s lips came to her ear, “They’re watching, El.”

But Seth broke the dance before Ellie could. Joel only made it worse in Ellie eyes, and yet you still followed her out the building.

Of course you did.

“Ellie,” she remembers you saying so softly, as if she might break if you had raised your voice even a little. Maybe she would have, she was a fragile thing that night, something easily crushed in your hands. Hands that had been gripped by yours outside the Bar that night.

You were the only one who didn’t look at her like she had two heads after the Seth incident, after her face had gone red at the sight of Joel. Her harsh words to the older man didn’t scare you away, didn’t make you crumble her between your finger tips.

“You should talk to him.” Your breath hit her face, the only warmth in that fucking air, and ellie remembers smelling something that was just as delicate as a pastry, maybe a perfume your father found on a patrol, maybe just you.

You cared. Something Ellie had convinced herself otherwise of, something that didn’t make sense in her mind. Why did you have any worry about she and Joel? How did it concern you at all? But it did, and Ellie listened to you.

Ellie walked up that frosted porch, arms swinging nervously, searching for space on the wooden railing. Ellie let Joel join her, let him ask about you.

“You like them?” Joel’s hands cupped his coffee, his head tilted Ellie’s way.

Ellie remembers so vividly how she turned away, tucking her chin near her shoulder. “I’m so stupid.”

Ellie could see how Joel’s head shook lightly, “You ain’t. They’d be lucky to have you.”

Ellie wishes she answered him that night, wishes she would have sat back on the porch, wishes she didn’t call him an asshole. Ellie wishes a lot of things about that night. Maybe she would have hugged him, if she had known. Maybe she would have started that conversation with forgiveness, rather than a hint of it, thrown at the end of her scrambled words, swallowed by her eyes she willed not to cry.

Ellie wishes for a lot of things, but she knows it’s useless.

Just as useless as avoiding you, now.

You had worn a black ribbon in your hair, the day of Joel’s burial. You had hugged Ellie so tightly, and Ellie almost could feel the heartbeat she swore she lost.

“I’m so sorry,” you had blubbered into her solid frame, and she almost tucked her nose into the skin of your neck, almost let the scent of your perfume calm her. But she just thanked you, pulled back and wiped one of her shaking thumbs over your tear streaked face. She was wiping your tears that day, and somehow it felt like the only right thing to do.

But Ellie remembers that day for another reason. It had been the first day she noticed the sick feeling in her stomach. The first time the hue of pink that always clouded her vision around you was dusted green instead, jealousy clawing at her throat.

She hated it. She hated how she couldn’t look away from where you slumped against your father’s chest. How his hand rubbed your shaking back as his breath puffed out in cold little clouds.

She hated how it reminded her of him.

Ellie stood alone, and watched on, feeling the tightening green branches of whatever awfulness was growing in the pit of her stomach. She cursed whatever it was laying above space, she dug the ball of her feet into the freezing grass and she cursed the earth for leaving her here to have to see this.

She walked home alone that night, shrugging you off with a rather monotone, “Go home, don’t worry about me,” when your eyes met hers in the cold air. She saw how you deflated lightly, saw how your eyes dropped to the ground. It made her feel more nauseous. She swallowed her feelings, the good and the bad, and wrapped her arms around herself as she turned.

That night Ellie veered away from her garage, finding comfort instead on the old couch that sat in Joel’s living room, and she thinks it may be the quietest place she has ever heard. She wonders what you may be doing. Was the creaking of the walls all you heard in your Jackson home too? Surely you hadn’t ripped an old and faded jacket from a closet that did not belong to you to use as a makeshift blanket, like Ellie had.

No, Ellie is sure your father walked close to you all the way home, sure he pulled out the chair at the kitchen table for you and offered you dinner, she’s even sure he had managed to crack a smile from you.

Ellie goes to sleep with a sick stomach.

“You're jealous, that’s natural,” Dina told her a few weeks later, after another stint of that awful green vine rooting itself in Ellie, one that kept her from taking you up on an offer to help clean up Shimmer. The growing seed that made her shake her head at you and offer a small and untruthful, “Don’t need any help.”

Dina handed Ellie a cup of warm tea in the cold garage. Ellie wouldn’t drink it, and she also wouldn’t eat any of the meals the Jackson residents left at her doorstep. But everyone still tried.

“But I shouldn’t be,” Ellie’s voice didn’t sound like her own. It was void of any vibrancy, any spark that Ellie’s tongue usually made. It was empty, spoken coldly. cold for herself, cold for that feeling in her chest.

“You’re grieving, El, it’s ok.”

Dina pressed a kind hand to her shoulder, and despite the way Ellie poisoned you in her mind, she still found herself wishing it was yours instead.

And now, more weeks that all pressed confusingly together had passed. The flower’s outside Joel’s were covered by snow, wilted and drained of life. His house had been empty since Ellie stole some of his old clothes a week back, a jacket that embarrassingly laid on the edge of her chair as she swung open the door of her garage turned home, glancing at another container on her doormat.

It was from you, of course it was. Ellie was sure you had been sent from some sort of heaven she was far too damned to ever access. A small note held your handwriting, and Ellie leaned down, grasping the food, the warmth burning at her frozen fingers.

Maria said she didn't see you at supply day again. I think you’d like this. I remember you eating it a lot at the dinners.

ps. you’re doing great in patrols, glad you went back to them. you’re one of the best jackson has.

xx.

A strand of auburn hair fell across her cheek as her chin dipped down, eyelashes tickling her skin as they closed.

Ellie was avoiding you, you had to have known that. Jesse knew it, Dina knew it, hell, even Tommy had commented on it last time he came by. Sure, Ellie was avoiding nearly everyone still, but it was no secret she turned the corner whenever you and your old man were around.

But here you were, making her food, leaving her notes of praise, complimenting her as if you had any need to. It made Ellie’s always down pointed lip quiver for a moment. You still fucking cared. Just like always.

It didn’t feel nice, it didn’t feel like how it would’ve if she got this note months ago. Then she would’ve clapped a hand over her heated cheek, stuffed it under a notebook like a kid with a crush.

But now, it felt more like an ache. A burning in her chest that made her push the door back open and slide the container on the waiting table near her door.

She should eat it later, that would be the kind thing to do. But the little voice whispers in Ellie’s ear again, the voice that drips poison over the thankfulness blossoming in her chest, ‘You think he helped them make that?’ the voice asked.

The palm of her hand pressed to her eyes as she leaned on the doorway, “Fuck.” Ellie muttered.

She kicked the wood, “Fuck!”

Ellie slammed her already bruised fist on the cracked wood and yelped. The splitting pain broke the girl from her mini temper tantrum, and the empty hand cupped the throbbing skin, a pair of teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Surely this wasn’t a normal way to react to something so kind, something as simple as food. She didn’t have to overthink every small thing, didn’t have to let her brain flip every positive to a negative, but how does Ellie stop what she has grown so accustomed to?

Ellie’s first attempt to rid her chest of the vines that constricted her ribs was a deep breath and a squeeze of her eyes. She pretends she can smell your perfume still lingering in the air, she imagines your cheeks turned up in a smile, she wonders what color of ribbon you found this week to turn into some new hair tool, and then she exhaled.

Maybe if she thought hard enough, the vines would retreat, the ache on her bones would feel more like the silk of your touch. Maybe she can let herself care more about what you give her, kindness, food, those stupid butterflies she used to feel whenever you spoke, that set of pastel oil paints from a year ago. Rather than letting that voice remind her of all the things you could not give her, things you could not repair.

You hadn’t taken Joel from her, your old man hadn’t either. You having that.. having him, it wouldn’t make any of what Ellie was going through change. She swallowed the truth down like nails as she turned away from the garage.

When Ellie opens her eyes again, her vision seems a little more bright.

By the time Ellie winds up at the stable, she is pressed closely by Dina who tends to Japan, brushing quietly

Ellie breaks the silence first, and it surprises both when the first word from her mouth is your name.

Dina’s gaze shoots over, and Ellie can almost see the thin ice she is debating stepping on, lips parting. You were never an easy topic, and usually when El uttered the syllables of your name, Dina was in for a long and drawn out conversation she never knew truly how to maneuver, the conversation layered with every confusing feeling Ellie had for you. The guilt, the jealousy. Everything in between.

Ellie beats her to speaking again, “They left me food again today. I woke up to it.”

Dina nods slowly, eyes falling back to her horse. “That’s nice of them.”

“It is,” Ellie agrees, flexing her bruising knuckles. “Left a note too, complimenting me and shit.”

The brunette to the side of her pauses for a moment, her boots turning in lightly as she judged her next step. “If you had told me this a year ago, I think you would’ve blabbered for like.. forty minutes about how they were ‘the greatest thing ever to exist’ or convinced me it meant they were in love with you.”

The air is silent, and Dina thinks she may have overstepped.

But the vines have taken on a softer sort of squeezing on Ellie’s chest now, one that felt like the ribbon you wore.

“Yea,” she smiled lightly, and Dina stumbled a bit, maybe out of pure shock. “Yea I probably would have.”

The silence finds them again, though there’s no thickness to it, and Ellie finds her heavy shoulders just slightly less pained for a moment.

Until the stable door swings open, and Ellie watches as Dina’s head turns. She can tell from the look on her face alone, on the way she blinks a few times and glances at Ellie.

You had just walked through.

You walk by where Japan and Shimmer stood, and you smiled like you always did.

This time, Ellie’s chest only tightened lightly. She only felt the small tug of ribbon when she recognized the flannel you had pushed up to your elbows, one she had seen your father wear on patrols many times.

This time, Ellie tries to smile back. She doesn’t let that burn find her stomach, doesn’t let the voice sneer at the clothing and remind Ellie of what she did not have. This time, Ellie speaks instead.

“Thanks for the food.”

You look almost as nervous as Ellie feels. You probably didn’t expect responses by this point.

“Oh it’s no problem,” you shake your head and smile. “Hope you enjoy it.”

Ellie nods, tensing up, useless to decide where this conversation should go, where it could go.

Just as the branches begin to curl around her lungs again, Dina cuts them down with her voice.

“El and I thought about sharing it after patrol today, maybe over some shitty movie. You in?”

The auburn haired girl shoots an aimed look at Dina, but the way you light up and step closer, the way she can smell that pastry scent again, it calms her lightly.

“It’ll be fun,” Ellie offered, voice cracking toward the end.

“Yea,” you smile, toes bouncing like they did when you were excited. Toes covered by your favorite shade of blue shoes. “I’d really like that.”

When you meet Ellie’s eyes, she can see pink instead of green again for the first time.

[babeyun]

what’s the 411? ✩ masterlist

as the queen of hip-hop soul, mary j. blige, once said...what makes you different from the next guy? seen ya last week and you couldn't even speak, you try to play like mister all-of-that, but now you want to come to me with some chit chat?

...in other words, welcome to a mashup of romance: untold by enhypen and some of my favorite mary j. blige songs. random combination, i know...but just trust the process.

✩ general warnings: fluff, angst, possible suggestive themes/smut for hyung line (and if so, it will be tagged individually.) potentially darker themes? warnings for individual fics vary, please read them accordingly before proceeding.

✩ series playlist: what's the 411? ✩ enhypen [spotify]

✩ join the taglist: requirements | taglist

✩ posting period: teasers at any point, full fics tba!

✩ without my baby - yang jungwon ✩

now playing: be without you by mary j. blige | hundred broken hearts by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: he's always kept an extra pair of your socks and shoes in his work bag, just in case it rains before he gets to you - and you've never felt so cold walking home in the rain.

✩ pairing: convenience store worker!yjw x waitress!reader

✩ genre: exes to lovers | second chance love

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ bring me paradise- lee heeseung ✩

now playing: everything by mary j. blige | moonstruck by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: the tumultuous ups and downs of your relationship were what made it worth it to heeseung. seeing the aftermath of a fight, the solutions you two would come up with - it meant the world to him. so why are you giving it up?

✩ pairing: bakery owner!lhs x restaurant owner!reader

✩ genre: strained lovers au | forged by fire

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ bring the fire- park jongseong ✩

now playing: my loving by mary j. blige | paranormal by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: you cater to the people despite not being too fond of the whole wedding thing...and your best customer just so happens to plan the whole wedding thing.

✩ pairing: wedding planner!pjs x florist!reader

✩ genre: opposites attract | friends to lovers au

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ if i could live - sim jaeyun ✩

now playing: you bring me joy by mary j. blige | royalty by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: he has written thousands of words just on the smell of your perfume, just like you have written dozens of stanzas just about the way he looks at you.

✩ pairing: writer!sjy x poet!reader

✩ genre: 'you're my muse' au | secret admirers

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ diamonds, furs & you - park sunghoon ✩

now playing: deep inside by mary j. blige | your eyes only by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: nepotism has played a huge role in your life. from birth, you'd had it all handed to you - so you don't understand why he's any exception.

✩ pairing: model!psh x fashion designer!reader

✩ genre: enemies to lovers au | personal growth

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ same old metaphors - kim sunoo ✩

now playing: no one will do by mary j. blige | highway 1009 by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: everything with sunoo has always been easy - from sharing meals to sharing secrets, you had no inhibitions. everything with sunoo was easy - including ovesharing.

✩ pairing: film student!ksn x theater student!reader

✩ genre: best friends to lovers au | forced proximity

✩ teaser! | read here!

✩ as you are - riki nishimura ✩

now playing: take me as i am by mary j. blige | brought the heat back by enhypen.

✩ synopsis: your cheeks always hurt from smiling, but you never cease to flash one at him after a game. after graduation, you find yourself holding onto a sliver of what could have been.

✩ pairing: cheerleader!riki x cheerleader!reader

✩ genre: high school sweethearts au | first love

✩ teaser! | read here!

babeyun © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[httpwintersoldier]

『 lady marmelade. || buggy x reader 』

[PART 2 OF 4 - ONE PIECE'S KINKTOBER] - BUGGY VER.

[SHANKS VER.] [MIHAWK VER.] [SANJI VER.]

pairing: buggy x f!reader words: lenghtyyyyy summary: your occupation lead you to meet your new boss... who'd perhaps become more than that. angst; smut; fluff.

Doing Burlesque was not what you had initially seen yourself doing professionally, but in a weird turn of events, the doors had opened and you walked right through them. Or rather... the curtains.

You initially intended to study the sea and its mysteries, but it wasn't exactly a job that paid well from the get-go, so you began working at a bar. Just to get yourself started, you said.

Then a man noticed you... He was tall and well built, a little meat on his bones but definitely intimidating. Hair as white as snow and a full beard with a nicely kept moustache. The man couldn't help but compliment you: your beautiful smile, your beautiful body, your bright personality... You were perfect, he said.

He approached you, initially asking you how much you made. You found it insulting! That was, until he said he'd triple it if you joined his show. The man was sure you'd be a hit, and he was right.

At first you thought he was inviting you to be a stripper, but as you learned the art of burlesque, you realized it was nothing of the sort - and you loved it. The attention, the compliments, the lights and cheers, the beautifully decorated attires, the attention to detail... But most of all, you adored the freedom it gave you to study the sea.

The pay was amazing, and it allowed you to have enough time and money to invest in your hobby - the sea.

"We got a... uh... how to describe the situation..." the stage coordinator said as he tapped his chin, looking for the correct words "We got a different crowd."

You were applying the finishing touches to your attire, but stopped, furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the man as you heard his choice of words, as well as the ruckus behind the curtain.

You stood up and walked to the edge of the curtain, tugging on it slightly, so only one of your eyes peeked out to look at the audience. You gasped in horror and stepped furiously towards the stage manager.

"Since when do we allow pirates on our cabaret!?" You whisper-yelled at the man.

The heels made you taller than him, and the way you were staring him down sent a shiver down his spine. The man was gripping his board with the show instructions as he struggled to give you a response.

"I guess we do when- when they pay well we do..."

You weren't prissy, much less were you an elitist, but pirates... they disgusted you. When you began working at the cabaret the owner allowed pirates in. Those nights were treacherous, to say the very least. The harassment, bottle throwing and disrespect for the art rose through the roof on those nights, so pirates and their crews were banned effectively from watching the shows. Except the ones whose pockets were deep, apparently.

You slumped back on your chair and held the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger as you sighed.

"Tell me I'm the first one, please, tell me I get to get this over with and fuck off home."

The stage manager scoffed.

"I don't know what would overcome the Boss to somehow put you first... You're the last one." The man informed.

He had the habit of doing this. You were his golden goose, the cherry at the top, as he liked to say, so you were always last, because everyone stayed to watch you.

That was the only time where being the favourite sucked.

"Babygirl, you're first, you're on in 40 seconds." The man said, and your colleague applied some powder hurriedly and walked to the big red curtains.

You watched as she stepped out to her signature intro song with a fake smile that hid how fucking terrified she was of the pirates.

Usually sets came and went as quickly as a snap of the fingers, but this one time, the one time you were curious to hear about, seemed to drag on for ever and ever.

"Thank y'all for tonight, you were lovely!"

As soon as you heard those words and saw the curtains move, you stood up.

"Evelyn, 60 seconds 'till you're on!" the stage manager called to your next colleague as you walked towards Babygirl, held her hands and looked her in the eye.

"So? How were they!?" You asked, barely even letting her catch her breath.

"You know what? Not that bad..." She said, sounding surprised by her own statement "I get the feeling they were just kicked out of every bar in town and came here to drink. They were excited and there was quite a lot of ruckus and cheering but I think the main focus were the drinks... There was this clown dude in the back that seemed very desinterested though." Your colleague explained, as you both walked to her vanity and she began taking off all of the paraphernelia that decorated her.

You furrowed your brows. That was surprising... But it made sense, somehow. They might've been behaving just for the sake of not being thrown out again and running out of alcohol for the night.

Your colleague looked at you up and down.

"You're going with Cherry Pie today?" She asked.

You kept a couple personas in your pocket, to keep it interesting. You liked to call it "The Burlesque Sisters", except each one of them was played by you. It kept people interested and coming back for more, wanting to get a peek at each sister.

You looked down at your attire: it was a red corset with wine-coloured felt details and a heart-shaped neckline. You wore a miniskirt that was not at all intricate, as it came off in the very beginning of the set, long black gloves with red feathery apliques on the hem, black stockings, and a pair of beautiful red platmform heels with guilded details. Your makeup matched the get up perfectly: a bold red lip with a dark red liner, gold sparkles decorating your face, as well as gold eyeshadow on your waterline, and a killer cat-like black winged liner. You were always keen on having your hair up, as you felt it was the perfect hairdo to keep eyes focused on your body and on your movements.

Cherry Pie was a fan favourite, no doubt. So you were a little reluctanct on bringing her out, afraid that the pirates would keep coming back for her (cocky of you, you were aware), but it was too late to change.

It wasn't long before you heard Evelyn's typical goodbye quote. She came in strutting in the room, hapilly removing several bills from various parts of her attire.

"Good tippers!" She said with a smile.

"Cherry Pie! You're on in two minutes!" The stage director called.

Whoever went next to Evelyn got a little more time before going in, as the staff needed to clean up her glitter sprayed across the floor.

"So? How was it?" You asked, raising your brows.

"Oh, it was great! They weren't exactly respectful but they tipped really well and they were very engaged! Except for this clown dude at the back, but I didn't bother much with him." Evelyn said with a shrug as she took off her earrings.

You stood up with a pensive face and straighened your outfit, suddenly becoming curious about this clown guy that seemed to be uninterested by women in very little clothing dancing in front of him. You walked to the curtains, waiting for the stage manager to give you your cue.

When you heard the first beats of your intro song you strutted in, one foot in front of the other, hands on your waist and a big, flirty smile. You winked at the crowd as the big stage lights lit you up.

You lifted your arms up as if to say "I'm here!" and popped out your hip.

"Welcome, to the Cherry Pie show!" You said, earning a bunch of cheers, and then hit the Beety Boop pose, placing your hands on your knees and popping out your ass as you winked.

The clown your colleagues had mentioned wasn't hard to spot: this wasn't a simple crowd, for sure, but he was definitely the one that stood out the most. In a good way... you'd argue.

However, as you introduced yourself, you could see him look up: his head lifted from the fist that it previously rested on and his eyes sparkled. You couldn't relate to the desinterest the others had reported, and you wondered if you had particularly piqued his interest - or if he was just tired of the position he was in and decided to switch (although the glint in his eye said your initial theory was correct).

You carried on with the performance, keeping a special eye out for the pirate clown.

You slowly undid your corset, opening it to reveal a tighter, smaller corset, flashing the crowd with an expression that said "oopsie!". There were some groans and there were some laughs at the trick. You discarded the corset you had taken off and went around the room collecting bills, as you danced suggestively and lip synced to your song.

As you walked closer to the clown you bit your glove and slid it off, revealing your long, red press on nails. You repeated the process on the other glove and discarded them, earning a few whistles. You could feel the clown's gaze on you, almost as if it burned.

And so, you decided to tease him: you dragged your nail along his jaw. The clown somewhat leaned into your touch, and although the music was loud, you could swear you heard him groan.

You continued you act and, in no time, your songs came to an end and it was time to say goodbye to your surprisingly pleasant guests.

"Y'all have been a lovely crowd! I've been Cherry Pie, Cherry Kisses!" You yelled, touching your ass with one heel as you blew them a kiss.

There was standing up, whistling, cheers, and a couple noises from displeased people, sad that the show was over. One thing was for sure, the clown guy had a hunger for you - and he wouldn't let you go so easily.

As you disappeared behind the curtains, the man stood up, making his way to the back.

"Sir you can't come in-" The bouncer began, but instantly shut up when Buggy flashed him a wad of Berry. Any ammount of money was worth being sacrified if it meant it was used to see you.

Evelyn and Babygirl had gone home already, so when you heard footsteps you assumed it was your bodyguard ready to escort you home.

"Hey Dante I'm not ready yet, give me 5 just to take off the makeup and put on some clothes!" You said, not looking behind you as you worked on getting the glitter off.

"I think you look marvellous just like that."

When you didn't recognize the voice, you were startled and stood up, looking at the man that had spoken, to find the clown guy leaning against the door frame.

You couldn't not remember who he was...

"What are you- How did you get here?" You asked, pointing at him and squinting your eyes.

"Honey, I've got plenty Berry, and I don't mind spending it on you." He said, arms stretched out as he stepped towards you.

You raised your brow and crossed your arms in front of your chest as you analyzed him from head to toe.

"This isn't a strip club, you can't pay for a room with me or whatever. And it's Cherry, not Honey." You said, attitude dripping from your voice.

"Yes, unfortunately it isn't a strip club, but I'm not here for that. I want to offer you a spot. On my crew, on my show." The man offered with that familiar glint in his eye.

"Why, pray tell, would I want to go be a pirate? The pay here is amazing, I love my job and I am comfortable." You asked.

The clown admired how unafraid you were of him. People usually kept their distance, ran away, stuttered near him... But there you were, facing him and challenging him. He absolutely had to have you.

The Captain was desperately looking for reasons to give you, until his eyes landed on a book you had on your vanity. You liked to entertain yourself and read on breaks from shows and happened to leave them on your vanity.

"A book about marine life?" The man asked, pointing at the book "Honey, why read about it, when you can see it. Join me and you'll see all of the life you read about in those pages, up close. I'll equal what they pay you here- fuck it, I'll double it."

Now that was tempting... But you couldn't help but wonder why...

"Why do you want me so much?"

Now that was a damn good question.

"I've never seen my men this focused on something. It's good for morale and it gives them something to do other than a big mess on my ship. Plus, we kinda need a gymnast on the show and you fit the bill."

Bullshit. He just bullshit his way out of the truth - in reality he just wanted to have you close, he wanted to be able to look at you up close whenever.

"Your men? Your ship? What are you, a Captain?" You asked genuinely.

The male scoffed and took another step towards you.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

You shrugged as an answer, your face showing a definite sign of absolutely not giving a shit about the answer.

"My name is Captain Buggy, or Buggy the Clown." Buggy, as he introduced himself, detached a hand and had it fly over to you.

"Woah! You're a Devil Fruit user!" You said, amused to finally meet one, and shook the flying hand.

Although detached, your touch on him still managed to send shivers down his spine.

"So, Miss 'Cherry Pie', have we got a deal?"

You pretended to think for a bit. The answer was obviously yes (more pay and you got to be close to the sea!?), but you didn't want to seem too eager.

"I believe we do Captain Buggy."

The way you said his name made him wonder how many other ways he could make you say it... It sent another shiver down his spine, and the captain asked himself if it had been a good idea to invite you on board - Buggy didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his hands off of you.

When the owner of the Cabaret heard of your departure he nearly fainted. The man tried to negotiate but he couldn't possibly match what Buggy had offered you, so the boss reluctantly let you go and you embarked on a new journey.

The beginning was a little rocky, some of the crew members got a little touchy and Buggy had to threaten them multiple times, but after you started standing your ground and threteaning them yourself, you gained their respect.

Normally you wouldn't be so brave as to stand up to several big men experienced in fighting, but you knew the Captain had your back, and that gave you a lot of confidence.

The first time there was a show, Buggy invited you to sit back and watch, so you could learn how it all worked before being part of it, and you had to admit, seeing the man take control of everything... it was kind of hot. Those words danced in your tongue when he asked you what you thought about the show afterwards, but you decided to keep it to yourself.

"This good enough Captain?" You asked innocently, fixing your corset so your boobs stood out.

Buggy thanked his heavy makeup for concealing his blush, and the coat for hiding his growing boner as he inspected your outfit from head to toe. He wanted to say no. He wanted to cover you up with a long, large coat and send you out with it so only he could see you like that, but alas, that wasn't possible...

"Uh yeah, Y/N, you look fantastic." The Captain said, not able to look away from your chest.

You giggled and thanked him, before getting ready to step out. The tent was particularly full that day, as people gathered, curious about the new act that had been announced.

As the cheers, claps and whistles reached Buggy's ears backstage, he felt a sense of jealousy spread in his body. Oh it was a bad idea to hire you, for sure...

When the show came to an end and the guests had left, Buggy sat on his throne and counted the Berry they had made.

Suddenly, he heard steps.

"Who the fuck is here and why are you here?" The Captain asked, in a grumpy tone - he very much disliked being interrupted.

"Sorry Captain!"

As soon as he heard your voice it was like a rainbow washed over him. He hated that. He hated how you had so much control over his body, over the way he felt.

"That's okay, thought it was one of the other degenerates. What can I do for ya, sweetheart?" Buggy asked in a completely different tone from the one he had previously spoken in, pleased that you had come talk to him still in your show attire.

"Well I wanted to ask... did I do good?" You asked, biting your lip and holding your hands behind your back nervously.

Oh boy did Buggy want to grab you by the neck and push you against a wall... Seeing you in front of him, nervous and asking for his approval, all while biting your lip... You had no idea how much self control he had not to fuck you dumb.

"Sorry sugar, I couldn't watch the show tonight..." The Captain explained, a sad tone in his voice as he said it.

"Oh..." You replied, a little disappointed "Well, maybe I could give you a private show." You said with a flirty wink.

Buggy smirked and looked at you, supporting his head with his fist.

"Don't make promises you can't handle keeping, princess." Buggy said, boldly.

You chuckled and turned around.

"I can handle everything, Captain."

You could feel Buggy's eyes on you as you walked away, and chuckled lowly when you heard him curse under his breath.

The man turned, huffed and puffed in bed that night, grabbing his crotch at the thought of you, at the way you called him Captain, and at the pretty little teasing quote you'd thrown at him - but he knew that no release would be satisfying - unless you were the one giving it to him. That couldn't be. He had to find a solution.

Little did the man know, the solution would find him soon enough.

Due to his Y/N-induced sleepless night, the following day the man retreated to his living quarters before dinner, in order to get some rest.

You, who didn't know what was going on, grew concerned about the Captain. He was always grumpy, sure, but he was also constantly laughing and full of life, whereas that day he was simply... not.

You knew no one was even supposed to go near his room, let alone visit it when the Captain specified he didn't want to be disturbed. But you were one curious cat - and a worried one too.

As you stood outside of his door, you bit your lower lip, wondering if you should knock or not, but before you could decide for or against it, the Captain had already sensed a presence outside.

"Who has a death wish?" Buggy asked, referring to the person that stood outside of his room.

"T-that would be me, Captain..." You replied, nervously, confident he'd recognize your voice.

Buggy's mind was torn - he looked (and felt) like shit on one hand, but on the other, having you with him in his room all by yourselves... The bottom head thought faster, and he replied with a low "come in".

You opened the creaky door slightly and peeked inside, before walking in.

Buggy laid on the bed, his hair free of the bandana and tied in a low ponytail. He had one arm falling from the bed, and the other covering his eyes, and one leg resting on the bed as the other had his knee bent.

You blushed slightly as you realized he was just wearing his underwear and a large striped shirt.

"Woah..." You said, at the sight of his long hair.

Buggy uncovered his eyes to look at you and followed your gaze. He just chuckled, making you snap back to reality.

"Uh, Sir- Captain," You corrected "are you okay?..."

The light in the room was scarce, the only thing lighting up the space being the moonlight coming in through the hatch. Still, you could see his cocky grin.

"You worried about me, princess?"

You dared walk closer to him, in small, shy steps.

"Well, yes... You didn't seem yourself today..."

Buggy clenched his fists and held himself back with all the strenght possible and imaginary when you put one knee on his bed, making it dip slightly on your end, and placed a hand on his forehead and face.

"Captain, you feel hot!" You said, worriedly.

He was hot alright, but it wasn't a fever that left him like that.

"You know princess, you're right, I haven't been 100% lately, I have been having a little problem..." Buggy admitted, as he licked his lips.

"A p-problem? What problem?" You asked, an uneasy feeling rising within you.

Upon seeing your panicked expression he chuckled.

"A problem with you, dear."

The panic and fear increased even more, and it was visible on your face.

"Don't worry princess, you've done nothing wrong. In fact, quite the opposite... You've been doing all the right things."

You innocently cocked your head to the side.

"I'm- I'm sorry Captain, I'm not sure I'm following..."

The man grinned and groaned when the name left your lips. Such an innocent mouth, that he had imagined doing such sinful things to...

"You see, sweetheart," Buggy began, his hand lightly tracing up the thigh closest to him "you've been driving me crazy. The way you dress, the way you talk, fuck- the way you say my name."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he imagined you moaning his name. You grew hotter and hotter at each of his words, and all you could focus on was how his hand went higher and higher on your thigh. And without noticing, in your head, you began begging for his hand to just fucking hurry it up and grab your ass.

"W-well Captain, I guess it's only right that I fix the problem, I caused it after all, hm?" You suggested bringing your other leg up to the bed and across him, so you were straddling his lap.

"Oh princess, I don't know if you wanna get into it..." His hands found the place you wanted him to find.

The man grabbed your ass with such force that you couldn't help but moan.

"I'm pretty sure that I do..." You said in a husky voice, as you felt his cock harden under you.

Before he could speak, you opened your mouth once more.

"You know, Captain," now that you knew he enjoyed it, you were going to exploit the hell out of the name "I like the way you take control of the show..." you paused once more and leaned in to whisper in his ear "How about you take control of me like that?"

It was as if your voice brought him the full 10 hours of sleep he needed. It was like energy washed over him and he felt... alive. More than ever.

The clown was quick to switch positions, straddling your waist and pinning your hands above your head, slowly riding up the top you wore. Buggy licked his lips as he stared at your exposed stomach.

"You're playing with fire, princess. Little girls that play with fire get hurt..." Buggy teased with a glint in his eye.

"Then hurt me."

His lips glued to yours instantly, in a violent, hungry kiss. Buggy didn't know it was possible for someone to drive him even crazier, but you did it. You pushed him to the very edge and he had never craved something so much in his life.

Buggy's hands were all over your body - grabbing your thighs, slapping your ass, caressing your waist... He wanted to take in every piece of you. As he touched you, the Captain slowly took off pieces of your clothes, and when you realized, you were naked under him.

You blushed slightly, tugging at the hem of his shirt so he'd understand.

"We're not speaking now, dollface?" The man asked as he removed his one piece of clothing "Cat got your tongue? Hm?"

You ran your hands down his torso and bit your lip - he was a lot more toned than he let on.

"Just... admiring the view." You said before catching his lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

Buggy detached one of his hands, and you shrieked into the kiss as his cold fingers made their way inside your panties. He teased your entrance, until you tugged on his hair as if to say "hurry up, fucker".

"Don't be-" He paused, shoving two fingers into you slowly "-impatient."

You sighed deeply and moved your hips against his fingers. Buggy looked down at you move in amusement.

"You know pretty girl, we have another problem at hand..." The Captain said, tracing your face with his fingers until he reached your neck.

"W-what is it?" You asked, through half lidded eyes and in between moans.

Buggy gripped your throat, making you gasp and arch your back. He leaned closer to your ear so he could whisper.

"I don't know if I wanna fuck you like this to see your pretty little face when you cum on my cock, or shove your face in the pillow and fuck you from behind."

"A-as long as you make me cum Captain..." You said with a smirk.

You whined as he removed his fingers and licked them clean.

"Are you doubting my capabilities, princess?"

You had no time to reply, as he reattached his hand and used it to flip you around and pull your ass up in the air. You gripped the sheets, your cheek against his pillow taking in the smell of your Captain, as you watched him take his placed bbehind you.

Buggy took his sweet time palming your ass and admiring it.

When he took out his cock, you couldn't see it from the angle, but you knew it was big and girthy, because when his hard lenght smacked against your ass, you knew you were in for it.

"Fuck..." You breathed out.

Buggy chuckled.

"It's not even in yet princess, save the cursing for later..." He teased, running the tip of his cock up and down your folds until he himself couldn't hold it any longer.

The Captain wanted to slam into you and fucked the words out of your mouth, but it was your first time with him and he didn't want to risk being too rough or hurting you.

So, with furrowed eyebrows and agape mouth, he pushed into you slowly, until he bottomed. It took all of his strenght to pull out and shove his cock back in in a slow pace.

Once he found you were comfortable with the pace, he began speeding up and, when your moans became loud and you called for his name, Buggy lost all control.

The man gripped your hips like a madman and fucked you like his life depended on it.

"Oh fuck- you're such a good girl Y/N- you take me so well..." He praised as he gripped your ass and smacked it a couple times, earning a yelp from you.

"Y-you feel so good Captain!" You moaned, gripping the sheets beside your head.

One of Buggy's hand detached and found your clit, rubbing it at a consistent, fast rhythm. The man was good. You wanted to savour the moment as long as possible but for the first time you found it hard to not cum.

Maybe it was his skill, maybe it was his demeanor, and maybe it was his appearance, but the truth was that you couldn't get enough of him fucking you.

"Buggy I think- I think I'm gonna cum-" You whined, as a familiar feeeling began washing over you.

"A-Already princess?"

Buggy kept up the confident persona, but deep down he was thanking every diety in existance because he didn't know how long he could last, with you moaning for him and tightening around his cock like he had imagined so many times.

"Please... may I cum?"

"Do it!" Was all he could say.

Your legs faltered and the Captain had to hold you up as he fucked his cum into you, riding both of your orgasms out.

Small groans and whimpers filled the room as the both of you came down from your highs. Buggy hissed as he removed his soft cock from you.

The man helped you lay down on the bed and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him as he closed his eyes.

"Hey Buggy?" You called, as you played with his hair and admired how long his lashes were.

"Hm?..." He sleepily asked.

"When you hired me, was this your intention?" You asked, biting your lip.

The man didn't open his eyes, he just chuckled.

"I can't say it was completely innocent... I wanted you close to me." Buggy explained with a smirk.

He then grabbed your ass and pulled you even closer, causing you to shriek and giggle.

"I guess you got it, Captain..."

[gothlcsan]

Puppy Rockstar ; CHOI BEOMGYU

PAIRING rockstar!beomgyu , fem!reader

GENRE SMUT 18+

SYNOPSIS beomgyu is the bassist of your band, he’s always been clingy with you and he would do anything to make you his

WORD COUNT 4162

WARNINGS switch!gyu, kissing, spitting, fingering, choking, biting, improper use of instruments, cock slapping, angst, swearing, beomgyu is EXTREMELY possessive, let me know if i missed anything > <

♫ our song - ella mai

a/n day twenty of kinktober. i missed yesterday so i decided to make this one a little longer. i hope you enjoy. this was briefly proofread so i apologize for any mistakes! if you enjoyed please consider liking and reblogging! > < ~ ♡

The first day you met with the band, you instantly became aware of Beomgyu’s existence. Which was hard to miss considering the way his eyes fixated on you the very moment you walked into the little garage. The band had money considering they were gearing up to start a small world tour but they claimed staying to their roots kept them grounded, meaning you’d practice in the small garage that smelt just as old as it looked. Their previous drummer has quit only a week prior, not giving you much time to learn and perfect their songs but they had faith in you and your talent, you nodding at Beomgyu as you settled behind the drums. The stool was a bit shaky, having to plant your feet firmly onto the ground to steady yourself. Going through the set list and tweaking things as you went, you sigh in relief as the practice ends a few hours later, feeling the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Glancing up you see Beomgyu staring at you who’s been doing so for nearly the entirety of practice, coining him in your head as a doppelgänger of Death Note's L.

“Hi?” You slightly dragged out the word, trying to hint that you were confused and slightly weirded out by his intense stare. He raises an eyebrow in response, smiling faintly, and turning around to put away his bass and bid everyone goodbye before leaving. You shrugged with a slight shake of your head deciding he was a strange one, attractive, but strange.

Tour begins and it’s chaotic but better than you had imagined. You were getting used to being on the road in the tour bus, the tiny bunks that nearly trigger your claustrophobia, becoming accustomed to using Beomgyu’s snoring to aid your sleep. However, one thing you hadn’t expected was to accidentally overhear Beomgyu relieving himself underneath you. His tiny moans being just the slightest bit muffled (presuming by his hand), your body going stiff as you hear him sniffle, your name rolling off his tongue. You try to convince yourself you misheard him, that you were exhausted and sexually frustrated yourself that’s why you heard your name. Hearing your name a second time causes your entire body to inflame into a blush, covering your mouth to stifle the surprised and turned on moans that threaten to expose you to being awake. The lewd sounds of him chasing his high makes the hair on your arms stand up, body radiating heat due to your flushed skin, eyes squeezed tightly shut to ground yourself. You go stiff when you hear him carefully getting out from his bunk, relaxing both your face and breathing to not give yourself away by the slight chance he’d check to make sure you weren’t awake. He doesn’t do so, hearing the small door to the bathroom open and shut, the sound of the sink running giving you enough time to let out the breath you were holding in. Moving to lay on your side you nearly laugh out of shock at the reality of the situation hitting you like a truck.

The next morning to pretend nothing is out of the ordinary, well as normal as you can considering every time Beomgyu would glance at you, you’d look away just as fast. His gaze suddenly felt heightened due to last night's accidental invasion of privacy (not that you meant to listen but he did moan your name so is it really your fault?) Practice goes smoothly, trying to ignore Beomgyu as much as possible, focusing on Taehyun who stood in front of you, swaying back and forth on his feet leaning on his microphone stand.

“After tonight’s show do you want to grab drinks? The bar seems to have pretty cool drinks in honor of us gigging there.” Taehyun asked, you gasping as your reply is caught off by Beomgyu yanking him by his jacket collar. You watch as Taehyun is dragged away, looking over at Soobin and Kai who only shrug and go back to packing up their gear.

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Taehyun yelled as Beomgyu threw him against the wall, his arm pressed against Taehyun’s throat. Beomgyu’s expression was deadly, his voice practically a snarl as he spoke.

“Don’t you ever flirt with her again, you understand me?”

“What? Beomgyu seriously-“ Taehyung is cut off by Beomgyu pressing his arm firmer against his throat making him flinch in pain.

“I will choke you out with my guitar string, don’t try me.”

Beomgyu lets go of Taehyun who drops to the ground gasping for air, Beomgyu kicking water in his direction before going back into the bar, walking past you to grab his case and head to the tour bus without a word.

Whatever they argued about before the show seemed to have settled as you all prepared for the show, doing the last and final soundcheck. You kept a close eye on the two of them deciding if you had to break up a fight you’d take one for the team. Getting to the last song, Taehyun comes over to you whilst singing, smiling up at him and giving him a wink which he returns. You jump as Beomgyu turns his amp up, now playing louder than Taehyun’s microphone, glaring at the two of you. Taehyun walks over to Beomgyu and tells him to turn it down, not being able to hear what they were arguing about over Soobin and Kai still practicing. You watch as Beomgyu yells at Taehyun to fuck off, walking off the stage to the break room, you running after Beomgyu saying you’ll handle it. Knocking on the door you let Beomgyu know it’s you when he says to screw off, the door nearly getting ripped off it’s hinges when he swings the door open.

“Can I come in?”

He doesn’t give you an audible reply but he steps out of the way for you to get inside, closing the door behind himself as he leans against it watching you.

“Is something bothering you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Gyu, I can tell something is bothering you. You’re on edge and it’s not common to fight with everyone, especially Taehyun like you’ve been doing.”

He goes to accuse you of being on Taehyun’s side instantly shutting that theory down stating you weren’t picking sides, you just wanted everyone to get along and put on a good show. He’s quietly staring at his boots and you knew he felt sorry for his actions, telling him to come sit down on the couch with you. Sitting down you give him a firm hug telling him to take a second to breathe and then you’d both go back out and he could apologize to Taehyun. He hesitantly agrees, you telling him he did a good job, your fingers instinctively playing with the ends of his hair as you hugged him. A tiny noise from Beomgyu sends you back to reality apologizing as you let go of him, his tiny laugh bouncing off the walls as he replied it was fine. He asks if you’d braid his hair out of his face, agreeing as you told him to face away from you. Running your fingers through his long hair to get it to sit away from his face, you massage the scalp, fingertips scratching the back of his ears. A satisfied moan comes from him which makes you instantly think of the night prior, your hands freezing as a flustered blush blossomed on your cheeks. Quickly regaining your composure you start braiding his hair, securing the end with the hair tie that always sat around your wrist, giving his shoulder a soft pat letting him know it was finished. Beomgyu studies it in the small mirror giving you a smile saying it looked great, then saying he was ready to head back if you were. Agreeing, you stand up and turn off the lights on your way out, smiling as Beomgyu apologizes to Taehyun, both of them agreeing there were no rough feelings.

“Oh my god, what is that Gyu?”

You walk up to Beomgyu after you had changed into your show clothes, eyes fixated to the prong collar around his neck. He lets you touch it, your eyes and fingers steady as you asked him if it hurts, shaking his head saying it would probably only hurt if it got yanked on.

“They really have you looking like a mutt.”

Your eyes widen at your own words, going to apologize instantly, changing your mind as you notice the blush on his cheeks, looking back down at the collar.

“Not that it’s a bad thing, of course.”

He chuckles at your sudden shyness, letting you stand straight up and walk to your drum set, placing your sticks against your forehead as you tell yourself to get it together. Luckily enough the show is a great distraction from everything until it wasn’t, Beomgyu eyeing you up and down every opportunity he had. His blatant flirting as he walked towards you, mouthing the suggestive parts of the songs, giving you winks before turning away to work the crowd. After the show and meet and greet, you ask Soobin if he’d put your drums away, you’d pay him back later you just had something you needed to do. He tells you it’s not a problem, thanking him sincerely before marching up to Beomgyu. He notices you giving you a smile before his eyes fall into confusion asking you “what” repeatedly as you grab him by the collar, making him gag.

“Follow me. Now.”

He does so, practically all but running to match your pace as the collar tugs into his skin. You slam the break room door behind you, pushing him into the dark room hoping he made it to the couch. Flipping on the light you stared at Beomgyu who looked at you, rubbing his neck where the collar has pinched.

“What?”

“No Beomgyu, what the fuck was that?”

“I’m not following?”

You scoff, a frustrated laugh coming from you as you point your drumsticks at him.

“I pretended to not hear you when you moaned my name last night, I tried to act oblivious to you hating anyone who seemed a little too friendly with me, what is your fucking deal?”

Beomgyu is frozen, his expression a mix of horror, shock, and excitement? He doesn’t reply to which makes you groan in frustration, just desperately wanting an answer to your questions. However, he doesn’t speak, your grip tightening around your drumsticks as you match up to him. His eyes don’t falter from yours as you raise the sticks up meeting them back down against his crotch making him gasp in pain. He doubles over on the couch, your brain snapping back into reality instantly asking him if he’s okay, Beomgyu looking up at you with a smile.

“That hurt you know.”

He catches his breath, sitting up and looking down at his jeans, throwing his head back with a sigh.

“Beomgyu did you seriously just?”

He nods, your face turning red as you turn around fast. Beomgyu had just cummed from you hitting him, and why did that fact excite you? Going to apologize, you tell him to not speak, needing a moment to wrap your head around the situation, taking a deep breath as you turn around on your heel.

“Let’s talk later, yeah? I’m tired.” You said, letting him finish up as you walked to the tour bus, waving at fans as you got ready for bed. You laid awake, staring up the ceiling of your bunk as you heard the other members climb into theirs, not yet hearing Beomgyu get in. Soft whispering pricks your ears as you move to get a better listen, chewing on your bottom lip as you recognize Beomgyu’s voice. You couldn’t tell who he was talking to, maybe Yeonjun? Lying back down quietly as you hear them exchange good nights before heading to their bunks. The soft rustle of Beomgyu settling in makes you hold your breath not that you need to, closing your eyes in hopes of heading to sleep first.

“I’m sorry.”

Beomgyu’s voice is barely an audible whisper, choosing to not respond hoping he’d go to sleep if he figured you weren’t awake. The sound of his rustling puts you at ease taking that as he is heading to bed, having to cover your mouth once more as you hear the softest sighs coming from him. Heat burned in the pit of your stomach listening to him, Beomgyu saying your name as if it was nothing to him, clenching around nothing at the sounds. He sounded delicious, your hands trembling as you greatly considered sneaking him into your bunk, imagining his long slender fingers replacing your own fingers that found their way into your shorts. You stayed quiet and still as possible, thanking the bumps in the road that hid your shaking limbs as you pumped your fingers in and out of you with each moan that came underneath you from Beomgyu.

“Fuck, need you so bad.” Beomgyu whispered, the heat running down your legs at his lewd confessions. Considering the consequences of sneaking into his bunk bed, you swear under your breath, turning to face the wall whispering Beomgyu’s name. He falls silent before faintly replying with a breathy, “yeah?” You tell him to make room, checking to ensure everyone’s curtains were shut, slipping down from the bunk quietly, crawling into Beomgyu’s fixing the curtain. The space was small for one person, the two of you being nearly sandwiched together sharing the tiny space. Sudden shyness falls between you two, quickly breaking it by pulling him into a kiss, he returns it with a smirk, a moan vibrating from deep in your throat. He tasted sweet, slightly salty and bitter, sighing against his lips as his hand greedily started taking off your pajama shorts. You giggle as he kisses down your throat, his fingers rubbing slow circles against your clit.

“So wet for you.” You whisper into his ear, gaining a possessive growl from him, his selfish and greedy nature stuffing his dick into you. Gasping into his neck you moan into the soft flesh as he grabs your ass, using it to help him thrust into you, deeper with each stroke. He felt incredible dragging against your walls, his girth making it difficult despite already having had prep yourself, biting his shoulder as he slowly picked up pace. Your vision blurred as you got lost into it, your moans being muffled into his skin and kisses, clinging to him in hopes of getting more. Beomgyu didn’t disappoint in the way his thrusts reached places you didn’t think were realistically possible, your head thrown back as he kneaded your ass like fresh dough. Wrapping a hand around his throat, you added enough pressure to make him groan, his dick twitching in you causing a surprised moan to fall from you. You matched his thrusts, your hips sore from gyrating them, hand tightening instinctively as the red hot heat deep in the pit of your stomach grew.

“Need to cum, please.” Beomgyu begged into your ear, you nodded fast telling him to cum on your thighs, Beomgyu pulling out and painting your thighs, the sight making you blush. His fingers push past your messy folds, long slender fingers hitting your reeves until you clench around them thighs convulsing as you cum around the pretty digits. Both of you are doing your best to hide your panting, sharing soft kisses as Beomgyu helped you put on your shorts after cleaning you up with spare wipes he had. Poking your head out to check if the close is clear, you bid Beomgyu goodnight before sneaking back into your bunk.

The next several stops you find yourself sneaking into Beomgyu’s bunk, sharing kisses as he takes off your edge, a slight pain growing in your chest. You loved the sex, you didn’t love how much you loved it, the friends with benefit pact you two had unspokenly formed making you ache. It was becoming impossible to ignore that you were slowly (well.. not too slowly) gaining feelings for Beomgyu but it was hard to tell if he felt the same. At the very least he didn’t make it unbundling clear if he had feelings outside of the late night sex.

You were resting your head against the booth table, the other members deciding on getting burgers next door, you wanting something more soupy. Beomgyu had agreed to go with you so you weren’t by yourself, listening to him sit next to you finishing his ramen. Paying for both your meals, you tell Beomgyu to finish up, you want to step outside for some fresh air. He tells you to be careful and he’ll meet you out there, telling him not to rush as you walk out. The cold air hits your face which you welcomed, leaning against the brick wall, planting one foot against it to keep yourself in place. Thankfully it was later in the evening so you didn’t have to worry about fans potentially running up to you, most likely heading to the venue for the concert. Checking the time on your phone you knew you guys had two hours until concert time, popping a piece of gum into your mouth as you relaxed waiting for Beomgyu. A few minutes later the bell on the restaurant door goes off, opening your eyes seeing Beomgyu walk up to you, asking if you were reading to head back to the venue. Nodding, you send a text to the band chat along with your manager, walking in silence next to Beomgyu. He stops randomly in his tracks, looking at him with a confused expression as you ask him what’s up. He asks for a piece of gum, going to fish out the half empty pack out of your pocket as he tells you not that kind.

“Well, this is all I got. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Beomgyu slowly walks towards you until your back is flush against the wall, you gasping as your back hits against the brick.

“What are you doing?”

Beomgyu places his fingers around your chin, bringing your face closer to his, not breaking eye contact once.

“I want the piece in your mouth.”

Staring at him you tell him to stop being a dumbass, laughing until you realize he was serious about this, going quiet.

“You’re serious?”

Beomgyu responds with a little smirk accompanied by a nod, you swearing under your breath as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. Clasping your hands together you press your lips against his, the kiss is nothing special as you pass the gum into his mouth, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand when he pulls away. He smiles in triumph turning away as he continues to walk down the street, you following close behind shaking your head.

The show goes off without a hitch but you cannot shake off your feelings from earlier. Bidding everyone goodnight as you head off to the break room to grab your bag, you make note of Beomgyu following close behind. He shuts the door behind himself and you ignore him as he talks, his arms wrapping around your waist as he whispers in your ear.

“I missed you.”

“We literally just played a show together.” You muttered, grabbing your back and moving to leave. He stops you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“That’s not what I meant, silly.”

Beomgyu kisses up your neck, biting down on your lip before the emotions coursing through you snap, angrily pushing Beomgyu away from you. You ignore him as he calls after you, accidentally shoulder checking Yeonjun who comes out of the bathroom, roughly pushing the exit door open as you mindlessly step out into the pouring rain. You didn’t care where this alley led to, you just needed to get away from the venue, away from Beomgyu. Seeing a lit up bar sign you decide on your destination stopping in the middle of the alley as Beomgyu yells at you.

“I love you, you know?”

You whip around giving him a glare, sarcasm thick in your voice as you yelled back.

“Yeah, love you too.”

Turning back around you go to take another step, Beomgyu telling you to stop moving, his voice barely audible over the heavy rain.

“No, I’m in love with you.”

Facing him again your face is a mix of hurt, confusion, your shoulders hanging in defeat as you shake your head. You weren’t in the mood for this, not for his pity, not in the mood for the lies he’d try to take back the moment the two of you were in the tour bus and he got what he wanted. You watch him as he sprints up to you, throwing his arms around you as he pulls you into a kiss, your body relaxing into his naturally. Part of you wanted to shove him away but he was warm, his lips molding with your own, curling your fingers around the soaked ends of his hair.

“Tell me this isn’t a lie, please.”

You needed reassurance, needed to know you weren’t going to make the worst mistake of your life on a shred of hope. Shaking his head he promises he isn’t pulling a joke on you, laughing against his lips as he says he’s obsessed with you. Telling him to prove it, you squeal with a laugh as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pins you against the alley wall, kissing you with such vigorous you almost swore your lips would be ripped off. Keeping your fingers tight in his hair, you jump as you hear hooting and hollering from down the alley, Beomgyu pulling back to tell the band mates to fuck off, you groaning in shyness into his shoulder.

“Let’s head to the tour bus to grab dry clothes. We have an off day tomorrow, let me grab a hotel so we can be alone.”

You feign being hurt, shaking your head accusing him of only thinking with his dick, Beomgyu smacking your ass as he carries you back into the venue.

“No, I meant we can be alone so we can makeout without the guys mocking us the entire time. Clearly you’re the one thinking with your dick.”

You look at him with a “oh really” type of expression, Beomgyu calling you cute as he opens the door, pushing past the guys and manager who just shakes his head, telling the guys to shut up and get onto the bus. Thankfully the bus pulled closer to the venue than earlier, climbing onto the bus long enough to grab extra clothes and necessities, blushing the entire time as the members poked fun at you and Beomgyu. Listening to the painfully embarrassing “use protection” talk by your manager you pull Beomgyu by his wrist telling everyone goodnight as you two grab a cab, leaving to head to the hotel.

The hotel itself is nice, the blush on your cheeks not fading as Beomgyu wraps his hands around yours, guiding you to the elevators. The ride up is quiet, humming as Beomgyu presses tiny soft kisses against your neck, telling him to behave himself.

“Yes, ma’am.” He says with a proud smirk, walking down the long vitrified tiled hallway to your door, unlocking it with the keycard heading inside. The room is massive, definitely much more than the two of you needed. Nonetheless it was beautiful and modern, stripping out of your wet clothes instantly to fall into bed, giggling as Beomgyu came behind you to smack your bare ass. He calls you a tease, hooking his finger around the thin band of your panties, snapping it back against your skin causing you to flinch, calling him a jerk for doing so.

“You know you like it.” He replies back, stripping down to his boxers before climbing into bed next to you, allowing you to cuddle into his side. You were spent from the emotionally taxing day, yawning loudly as you lay your head against his chest. Beomgyu runs his fingers through your hair, returning the favor by rubbing small circles against his stomach using your thumb. His warmth radiating off his chest against your own makes you hum in satisfaction, doing your best to cuddle closer craving his body heat. Being able to relax with him solely without the extreme confinement of a bus bed makes it easy to nod off, Beomgyu telling you goodnight as you faintly snore against his chest.

Waking up realizing you have the prettiest boyfriend, being the drummer of a super successful band, how could you not be the luckiest girl in the world?

[blockedbykei]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?

🏐 — kageyama tobio x f!reader

— synopsis: kageyama always had one agenda in his life: volleyball. it just so happens that you seemed to challenge him even more than the sport has ever done in his life.

- warnings: pro player!kageyama, frenemies to lovers, volleyball player!reader, swearing, kageyama being too obsessed with volleyball while also being obsessed with you, angst to fluff. lyrics taken from "slut!" by taylor swift but the story isn't actually based on the song lol

— parts: i, ii, iii, iv

i; being this young is art

kageyama only had one agenda settled in his life: volleyball.

every day, every second and every minute that took up his life, he'd spent it with his feet on the court, his sweat dripping down his body, his eyes on the ball, and his ears listening to the sweet sound of the ball richocheting off every corner of the gymnasium.

he felt like he couldn't live without the feeling of the blue and yellow leather being spiked with his palm, or the way it felt on his fingers when he sets it, or how the impact felt on his wrists. it was his craving, his air, his life.

was it an exaggeration? others may say so. kageyama thinks it's simply his passion.

and then he would eat and eat until all that food would turn into muscle. on mornings he would go on jogs, afternoons would be spent in courts, evenings would be spent planning how his next game could occur.

serve. set. receive. spike. repeat.

it was a cycle he'd run around until his heart would stop beating and his legs had run out of life. he never had any other responsibilities to stress himself out on (except his studies, of course). his love, attention, and care– all on volleyball.

so it was no surprise if someone were to find him spending his free time in the gym, with waterbottles aligned by the net, practicing alone because his team decided to use their rest days to actually rest rather than exert all their energy in practice and lose it all when the game arrives.

"oi, kageyama!"

to his surprise, he looks at the doors and sees hinata's bright tangerine hair illuminating the room. kageyama didn't expect that his rival stood at the doors of his team's gym, let alone see him in casual clothes rather than the ones he wore when he played.

"what are you doing here?" he snickers, catching the ball he had previously set before the interruption. "this isn't your team, dumbass."

"i know that," hinata snarls. "come join us! our teams are gonna go out and have some drinks."

"what for?"

"to celebrate our victory."

kageyama groans. "boastful dumbass."

"do you have any other word in your vocabulary other than 'dumbass'?"

"yes," he throws the ball and shoots it to the cart of other balls, picking up the waterbottles aligned. "idiot."

hinata charges at him.

his small albeit heavy body topples kageyama to the ground, his back hitting the floor and the bottles thrown astray from the impact. kageyama groans and pushes him off when hinata's knee presses accidentally on his stomach.

"get off me, you tiny dumba– idiot!"

a couple minutes of rowdiness created by the pair, and kageyama finds himself stepping foot into a small party surrounded by people he has grown up with– those who taught him how to be better, to be a good sport, how to win.

he was clad in a blue simple shirt and jeans, feeling a little underdressed by his friends who wore casual yet elegant clothing that suited their personalities best. he approaches atsumu first, the blonde twin smiling brightly at the sight of kageyama nearing with his hands in his pockets.

"tobio-chan!" he exclaims, an arm extended to wrap around kageyama's shoulders. "take it you were practicing again, huh?"

"yes," he answers, taking the beer bokuto enthusiastically offers him. "i don't want to waste my free time not practicing."

"you spend so much time improving yet you remain mediocre at best," tsukishima snickers, taking a light sip of his beer. "at ease, your majesty."

"i'm 21!" hinata pleads, showing the bartender three valid ids. "i'm of age! i'm allowed to drink! atsumu, please tell him i'm of age."

"give him something to drink," atsumu smiles. "it's past his bed time so he's talking nonsense. give him apple juice and he'll think it's beer."

"atsumu-chan!"

kageyama hollers, the warm liquid inside the beer bottle sloshing from his jovial movements. it all feels nostalgic– he feels as if he's back at training camp, except with the presence of atsumu and sakusa, whom he had met at the all youth training; with the addition of ushijima and oikawa's presence.

everyone was here– those he had considered rivals at the opposite ends of the gymnasium, now sharing laughs and stories like they had all been best friends since the beginning of volleyball's existence.

divided by talents and hard work, united by volleyball.

and he was there for hours, talking about nothing but volleyball, except the occasional school talks. kageyama's body unwinds at the familiar environment, the alcohol in his system temporarily taking over his usual tense demeanor.

kageyama was in the middle of ordering another drink when he sees you.

his chest fumes.

you're a seat apart from him, elbows on the counter, dress tight around your body. the scarlet hues of your attire reflecting beautifully underneath the dim lights of the bar. your hair hangs loosely over your shoulders, and suddenly you looked entirely different from the woman he sees on the court– sweaty and tired, bare faced, hair up in a ponytail, agitated yet pumped up with adrenaline at the same time.

your red lips leave a stain on the rocks glass. kageyama clears his throat.

your head darts to his direction. and your eyebrows shoot up in amusement. "kageyama tobio. what a nice surprise."

"nice to see you're dressed like a girl." kageyama puts his elbow on the counter, a strand of hair touching the space above his left eyebrow. your chin tilts up at his backhanded compliment.

"nice to see you have your head out of your ass."

"it happens once in a while." he shrugs, placing the rim of the beer on his lips. you mirror him, sipping on what he assumes to be whiskey. it leaves him impressed. "you're a hard drinker."

"you drink like you're a teenager." you snort. "beer, really? you're at a classy bar and you're drinking beer?"

he cocks his head behind him to show his tipsy friends, cheeks reddened from the alcohol that is taking over their senses little by little. "it's what they offered me."

"you're here to celebrate the black jackals' victory, right?" you spin on your seat, fully facing him. your legs cross and your heel bounces on your bare leg, leg jerking. your nail traces the lips of your glass. "did it hurt your tiny little ego, tobio-chan?"

"i want to hurt your little ego."

"seems like i just hurt it again."

"(y/n)!" kuroo booms behind kageyama, his arms spread to approach you into a hug. you accept it, wrapping your arms around his buff figure, your head in the middle of his chest. kageyama clutches his bottle tightly. "nice to see you here."

"victories should be celebrated," you smile up at him.

kageyama remembers the recent victory of your team in the women's division, ranking second. you were their wing spiker, the main source of the team's consecutive scoring; albeit you weren't their ace, so that fact was enough to lighten his spirits.

"oh! congratulations then, pretty girl," kuroo combs your hair and kisses your cheek. this bond that he sees remains to leave his queries unanswered– he doesn't know when and how you became close wth kuroo, but he knows damn well it didn't happen during high school.

kuroo's lips on your cheek, the smile on your face, the innocence, the close friendship. something pokes on kageyama's brain, and his eye twitches.

"thanks, kuroo."

he walks away and leaves the two of you again. your body rotates to face the counter fully, letting kageyama stare at the sides of your body. he huffs. "where's your team?"

"over there," you cock your head to the side. his eyes follow the crowd of girls laughing somewhat drunkenly, talking loudly about the recent events of your match. "left them alone 'cause i needed another drink."

"okay," is all he says. it's all he ever really says to every person. though the silence that follows is comfortable to him, because kageyama was never really a talker unless it was triggered by anger (thus, he only ever really yelled at hinata, which makes up the most of his loud moments).

you didn't seem to mind the silence, either. you twist your wrist to see the ice cubes rock against one another in your drink, lips pursed, your tongue poking the inside of your cheek. when you bring your glass up to your crimson lips, kageyama speaks again—

"do you wanna get out of here and play with me?"

you almost choke on your drink, eyes widening as you slowly spin to face him. he sees a slight disturbance in your eyes to which he can't figure out the reason why. "what?"

"you know, like, play volleyball with me?"

"oh," you laugh. "we're here at the bar for a reason, tobio-chan. we can't always play volleyball for every second of every day."

kageyama scoffs. "lame."

"excuse me?"

"LAME," he says loudly.

you seethe, eyes narrowing. you slam your glass on the counter, a light rattling sound emitting. you grab your purse that was on your lap tightly, hopping down the seat.

"me? lame? guess which one of us won." you poke your tongue at him. "i'll show you who's lame, loser. calling me lame. who the fuck are you calling lame?!"

you mutter the last sentences, though kageyama laughs behind you as you trail away from him and towards your teammates, bidding your goodbye. their drunken states barely brought the thought of questioning into their minds as they mindlessly let you go.

kageyama, on the other hand, seemed to find difficulty into making the situation innocent— bringing a girl home you met at the bar wasn't a situation that lacked innuendo.

"kageyama, you're bringing a girl home?" hinata pips in surprise. "is- is that (y/n)? you're going to bring her home?!"

"i won't bring her home, dumbass." he snarls. "we're just– gonna toss balls at each other."

"what kind of foreplay are you into?" atsumu snorts. "you're supposed to let her touch your balls."

kageyama shivers. "that's disturbing."

"oi, asshole," you throw your coat on you, easily slipping your arms into each sleeve. kageyama thinks the coat you're wearing was something you grabbed last minute; it did nothing to contrast nor match your dress. it makes him raise a brow. "ready to go?"

"yes," he takes his coat from one of the couches his team sits on. he claps ushijima's back to nods in acknowledgement, ignoring the teasing hollers of his tipsy friends. you blow a kiss to kuroo that sticks a stem of thorns on kageyama's eyes.

🏐 —

the cold never seemed to leave japan no matter the weather. despite this, you're both still comfortable enough in your thick coats that covered your thin clothing.

the snowflakes fall on your hair, melting tiny wet spots at your scalp. there are some that fall on your eyelashes, at the tip of your nose, but it's nothing to you now.

you didn't expect kageyama to bring you at an alleyway beside the bar. you didn't expect that this is what you would be doing at an alleyway. the fact that kageyama had a ball in his car was expected, but it was something you found endearing nonetheless.

your instincts allowed your wrists to seamlessly catch the ball kageyama tosses to you.

"you know, i'd expect that you'd bring a girl back to your apartment, share stories, maybe give her a kiss or two–" kageyama begins to blush, "–but i also don't know why you bringing a girl out to play volleyball does not surprise me."

"just like i always tell you– i don't like spending my time on things that won't improve my skills."

"take it easy, dude," you catch the ball with your hands, keeping it between your palms. "at this rate, you're going to die a virgin."

"who says i'm a virgin?"

"i see you almost piss yourself when you talk to a girl," you snort, tossing the ball back to him.

"i don't piss myself when i talk to you."

"well, thank god you don't." kageyama sneers. "you'll make yourself look even more like a loser. loser of all losers."

the sneer on his face softens just a tiny bit, which is caused by the way you smile at how you had to bend your knees to receive his petty toss.

his heart mimics skipping stones at a quiet lake.

"'m not a loser," he huffs. "dumbass."

you catch the ball between your hands and hurl it at him. "don't call me a dumbass!"

kageyama ducks, yelping loudly. when he returns to his usual stance, he offers you a threatening glare that makes you spin on your heels and bolt, exiting the alleyway. he yells for you, following suit, almost slipping on his shoes from the melted ice on the cemented ground.

your laugh echoes in the midnight streets of tokyo, roads idle and buildings closed. the sound of your heels meeting the cobblestone ground taps his ears like a rhythm, your giggles akin to melodies of a harp. kageyama barely spares a pant, his feet almost catching up to you.

your hair blows past your face, your coat floating in the air; and the wind leaves cold kisses on his face, getting inside his nose that makes it turn red, his sinuses hurting from the crisp impact. he yells your name and you flip him off.

perhaps it was the beer in his system that makes him woozy, the glow of the streetlights becoming blurry. maybe it was because of the sudden whiplash he faces when you duck and he accidentally topples over your bending body, landing on his back on a loud thump.

your laugh scratches his ears irritatingly.

"do you see what i mean?" you bend, placing your hands on your knees. "take it easy. you're too in the moment that you end up hurting yourself."

the pain trembles on his spine, his hair damp on his forehead. he glares at you, his breath evident as it leaves his panting mouth. you offer your hand and he takes it. "don't tell me how to function."

"alright man," you drop his hand, and kageyama falls to the ground again as you raise your hands in mock defeat. "just a friend looking out for you."

kageyama groans, standing up and dusting his pants off. "you're not my friend,"

there's barely any hurt that flashes your eyes; you know he's joking. "ouchie, tobio-chan." you pout, hands clutching each other over your heart. "you really do know how to hurt a girl."

he huffs, like a petulant child. "let's go back to the bar."

you don't realize how far you've gotten away when you begin to walk, your elbows brushing against his, hands warming inside your coat's pockets. kageyama was no longer scowling, his lips pressed into a flat line and staring right ahead.

to your surprise, he asks: "how do you– function without playing volleyball?"

you feel yourself calm down, body relaxing at the warmth kageyama radiates. you look up at him. "there's more to life than volleyball, 'd you know that?" you start softly. "there's nothing wrong with playing a sport for the rest of your life, but i'm just longing for this sense of accomplishment that's different from what i feel when i win a match."

kageyama stares blankly at you, though you could see the gears spinning slowly behind his eyes. "you... you want to be more accomplished?"

"yeah." you let out a sigh. there's hesitance when you open your mouth, like you're unsure if kageyama is the person you should be telling it to.

he hopes you tell him.

that sense of accomplishment— he doesn't know what you're talking about. he's only ever known the elation of winning a match, the confidence that he gains knowing everyone else was also relying on his decisions, realizing that each choice he made brought his team to success. that feeling was addicting, like a drug, something that he chased over and over again.

the feeling of winning in volleyball was all he ever knew. but now—

now he wonders if maybe that feeling was something that's not permanent; that maybe he should be looking for more than just that rush. he wants to know what you're thinking and see what he's missing in his life.

"it's why..." you blink, eyelashes grazing your cheeks as you do so. the gloss over your lips has matted from the cold air, bottom lip getting lost between your teeth. you let out a shaky, nervous sigh. "i'm quitting volleyball."

kageyama snaps his head to you. "what?!"

"yeah," you laugh nervously, shoulders raising. "i've been playing volleyball since i was middle school, tobio. i'm 21, i think it's time to start something new."

his eyebrows furrow. "okay... w-why?"

"kageyama," you say softly. "we can't always live on the rush we get everytime the whistle blows and we've won. there's always more than just tossing balls in a match."

he's a little slow. "uhuh..."

you laugh tiredly. "what i'm trying to say is that volleyball isn't the only battle we have in our life. and i want to win those other battles." you say, then add: "you know, in an analogical kind of way."

"okay." he says. "i get it." just a little.

"which is why tomorrow, i'm officially retired. we're not only just celebrating our victory, y'know," there's a small skip in your step, and when you sniffle, it's a little blocked. "it's kind of like a... what do you call it? going away party? no, that's not right..."

kageyama tunes out the rest of your loud pondering. despite finding you the most irritating being in existence, he feels the slightest bit of dejection at your departure. and he thinks he may lose you the minute you step out– that he'd no longer get to talk to you, practice with you outside of his team;

that after all the years he's known you, he's afraid you're turning your back on something you've both bonded on.

"work with me," he steps in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. you give him an incredulous frown.

"what?"

"be my personal trainer then."

"kageyama, i didn't quit volleyball just so i could work in something related to volleyball. i'm trying to swerve from the sport, y'know?"

"you're not going to train me volleyball." he shakes his head, his hair falling to his sides, ending just above his ears. "you're just... going to help me... be interested in something other than volleyball?"

"so you want me to take up a job where i'm like your concerned mother who wants you to have a life, is that it?"

"n-no! fuck's sake..." you raise your brow at him. "i'm saying that... that you will be like- my- um- personal... assistant?"

"fuck no," you guffaw. "you're ridiculous! are you even going to pay me?"

he stiffens. "i... i'll have to ask m-management for that."

"geez, tobio," you look to the side, baffled by his abrupt conditions. "you know i could just help you find other hobbies as your... acquaintance, right? i don't need to have an official position for you or anything.

he flinches at the word acquaintance.

"besides... why me?"

"because..." he breathes out, like he's been holding his breath for a long time. "i've known you since high school and... you're the only one i'm not shy to look embarrassing to."

your face softens, eyebrows raising. your hand comes out of your pocket and places itself on his bicep. his blush is overpowered by the cold's brutal nipping.

"i can't help you, tobio," you tell him, your lips turning into a flipped smile of empathy. his shoulders slump. "see you around."

you walk past him, and he turns his head to watch you walk away. kageyama thinks he's seen this before, that bite in his heart from seeing your back to him because of something kageyama has stupidly caused. it's all too familiar.

a little too painful.

and he's scared to lose you again.

🏐 —

his phone dings at 4:30am.

you. Am i going to be paid? 4:30am

the sleep on his eyes are flickered away from his sudden energy. kageyama sits up and props himself against his bed frame, clumsily holding his phone between his calloused fingers.

kageyama. like i said, i'll have to ask management. why the sudden question? 4:31am

the gray bubbles on your side appear and disappear for what seems to be five excruciating times. his heart pounds rapidly, fingers trembling.

you. Realized I can't get a good job immediately, lol. This could be a good starter. I'm sacrificing all the ego I've built over the years just so I could work for you. 4:33am

kageyama. WITH me. 4:33am

you. Okay. 4:33am

there's a pause. he doesn't close his phone yet because he knows you're staring at your phone just like he is.

he likes it when he's correct too.

you. Please text me immediately when you've asked your management. Look forward to working WITH you. 4:34am

there's a sense of hope fluttering in him.

suddenly there's a path opening from the cycle he's been running on since his youth. he brazenly follows it.

this is a series haha i won't be telling you how they already know each other u guys just have to wait for the next part

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

[hobvitr]

pavitr prabhakar x reader

gn! reader.

genre/warnings: fluff, angst if you squint, stabilized relationship, reader has anxiety, mention of wounds, blood, just a lil blurb

sinopses: you discover you boyfriend is spiderman, but just because he has nowhere to go to treat his wounds.

what else to do on a tuesday night instead of sketch some stuff and finish your homework, right? your boyfriend occupied for god knows how long due to his "grown up" responsibilities who you wouldn't even question too much, knowing he as well might have his privacy and you trust him blindly.

you draw stern lines with your pencil above the paper, headphones on and you hum along some of your favorite songs. a light thud catches your attention, looking up from the paper to look at your right... nothing. then your left..

"what the- WHAT THE FUCK?" your voice comes out first at a normal volume, then coming more like a whisper-yell as you look at pavitr entering your room through your window. but the problem is, you live in a building at the sixth floor, and he's using a spiderman suit.

"hey babe" he starts with a slight smile, holding his mask in one hand and the other pressing firmly at his side, blood coming out of the wound. "I'm sorry to bother you-"

"pav you're bleeding, what happened?!" you frown, worried sick as you come closer to him to help him hold the wound, not even processing he's literally Spiderman. you scold him to sit on your bed, a hiss coming out of his lips. "wait here, I'm getting a aid kit"

you don't even wait for his response, running to the bathroom and getting everything that you needed. as you got back into your room, you could hear your heartbeat fastening with worry, breath hitching and fingers trembling holding the gauze as you kneel in front of him.

pavitr could read your body language and even sense the unhealthy amount of anxiety you were experiencing right now. "hey- hey, look at me" he placed his unbloodied hand on your cheek, making you look at his face. "it's okay, i'm okay... it'll be fine" his voice coming out soothing and making you stead your breath. "thank you for helping me, hot stuff" the nickname made you let out a brief laugh, being able to concentrate on doing the best bandage you could.

the second you were done with the bandage, you clean the other small cuts he had on his face and arms. you let out a sigh once you're done with the cleaning, looking at his eyes now. "I can't believe you addressed being spiderman as 'grown up responsibilities', really" you said casually, not yet being able to assimilate who your boyfriend was.

"it was the best i could come up with" he said with a chuckle, patting his side at the bed so you could sit up with him instead of kneeling on the ground. "you do sound a bit unimpressed" he leans back a little, his hands back on the bed for support.

"sorry, didn't have the time to freak out about you being a hero, was kinda busy with you dying from bleeding out" you said in a teasing manner, now analysing him in his suit. "that explains so much, actually... that's why i always found spiderman so attractive" you kept teasing him, now with a grin.

"so you have a crush on spiderman and didn't tell me?!" pav said faking offense laying his hand on his chest after a laugh burst out of him, arms coming to hold both your sides in a warm hug. you hug him back, careful with his wounds. "you know i'm gonna worry about you like, three times more, right?" you say, head buried on his neck, taking in his fresh scent.

"i know, but now i'll be three times more careful to come back unharmed to you" you could feel him smiling against your head. he leaned slightly back, making you look at his eyes, which was looking directly at your lips. you let out a small chuckle and kissed him slowly and softly, making him smile in the process.

as you remember you actually need to breathe, you reluctantly pull off, making pav whine jokingly. "nooo, i need more kisses from my sunshine to get better faster" you giggle, mumbling a 'good point' against his lips and taking his request, cuddling with him for the rest of the night.

[supernovafics]

𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k words

summary: in which it was a drunkenly suggested idea that actually didn’t sound too bad, and it was somehow easy to turn your friendship into something a little different. the hardest part should be keeping it a secret, but instead, it’s making sure that things don’t change more than they already have

warnings: explicit language, friends with benefits, sexual tension, implied smut, a lil angst 

author’s note: first time writing for eddie (finally!) this is slightly based off the song “homegirl” by king princess. specifically the line “we’re friends at the party, i’ll give you my body at home.” more eddie stuff coming soon? eventually? maybe..?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

From the beginning, you both had the same understanding of what this was.

Two friends having fun every once in a while. Two friends doing things that two people who were just friends wouldn’t do with one another. Two friends that wanted something completely and utterly not serious because they both had just gotten out of shitty relationships and weren’t in the right headspace to commit to anything. 

You and Eddie agreed on it all. 

And you two also agreed that you could never tell your friends about what you were doing. 

You could only imagine the concerned and confused looks that would’ve been shared amongst them all if you and Eddie sat them down and told them about what had been happening for the past five months. Steve would think it was kinda weird and so random. Robin would say the same thing and also add that you two being each other’s rebounds would only mess things up within the friend group in the long run. Nancy would go on and on about how this was not the way that you two should’ve been coping with your respective break ups, etc, etc. 

Neither of you wanted to hear any of it, so with hushed whispers and the linking of pinkies in the middle of the night— moments after you two had drunkenly made out in the bathroom of The Hideout and were debating on whether or not you should move things to the back of Eddie’s van that was parked right outside— this quickly became the best kept secret. 

During group hangouts and other social situations, you and Eddie were just friends— nothing more, nothing less— but when you were alone, it was different. 

In a way it was fucked up, and on some level you both could recognize that. Falling into each other’s beds most nights was definitely not a good way to cope and deal with everything, just like Nancy would’ve told you both, but so far it was working perfectly fine. And how easy and okay it all was— how it somehow never felt weird or wrong to flip that switch and change your friendship into what it now was— only sometimes confused you. 

And just for a moment, as you and Eddie sat in his van outside of Steve’s house, you were hit with that confused feeling that also slightly surprised you. It was fleeting, as quick as it came it was washed away, and then it was forgotten. 

“Come on,” You mumbled against his lips before fully pulling away. “We need to go inside before they think we got into a tragic car crash while going to get this fucking ice.” 

“One more minute,” Was all Eddie said in response as his lips found your neck. 

You savored the feeling for a second before your hands came up to his chest to softly push him away. “Nope, no way. Do not give me a hickey right now, Munson.”

He only laughed and you simply rolled your eyes at the sound as you opened the door and stepped out of his van. You headed to the back and Eddie followed suit, opening the doors so that you two could grab the ice that you’d been tasked with getting forty minutes earlier. You picked up one and he grabbed the other two, and then you pushed the doors back shut with your free hand. 

“How you getting home tonight?” Eddie asked you. You knew what his question really meant— Are we going home together?

“Not sure yet. Might stay with Robin since it’s her birthday and she said she’s probably gonna just spend the night here. Or I’ll drive with Nance,” You answered, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. 

Neither of those things would end up happening, you knew that you’d probably be leaving here with Eddie in a few hours. But it was nice to tease him right then, push his buttons a bit. 

He only smiled at you, easily reading through the bullshit laced within your words, and was completely okay with playing along. “Okay, got it. I guess I don’t have to worry about bringing you home.” 

“Guess not.”

You two were already standing in front of Steve’s front door, but you simply held Eddie’s gaze for a few beats longer, the smallest smile playing on your lips, before you pushed the door open and the teasing conversation immediately became drowned out by the music. 

Steve waved you both over to the kitchen. “Finally, you’re back.” 

“There was some traffic,” Eddie told him and Steve surprisingly didn’t question the excuse— even though there being traffic in Hawkins was an insanely far-fetched statement to make. 

You handed the bag of ice in your hand over to Steve, which he put in the freezer and then he and Eddie poured the others in the coolers that sat on top of his kitchen island that had beers and sodas in them. 

You were about to walk away— see if you could find Robin, maybe wish her happy birthday for the third time tonight— but Steve slung an arm around you before you could. “I need you to be my beer pong partner.”

“Y’know, Steven, I don’t think it can really be considered as a partnership if I’m the one doing all of the work to make us win,” You said, but still let him drag you to the table littered with red solo cups anyway. 

Two rounds of beer pong later, both of which you and Steve— mainly you— won, you were slightly tipsy. Definitely nowhere near drunk enough to do the karaoke that was set up in the living room, like Robin, Vickie, and Nancy. Although you did enjoy their very theatrical and soulful performance of Somebody to Love by Queen. 

However, you were just the right amount of tipsy to smile when you spotted Eddie through the throngs of people, smoking weed on the couch and talking to Gareth. A part of you wanted to walk over and settle yourself in his lap, but thank God your thinking was still somewhat logical and you reminded yourself that you couldn’t do that. 

Instead, you settled for sitting on the arm of the couch and feet resting on the dark cushion, close enough to Eddie but not so much that it would raise a thousand alarm bells by your friends if they saw you two right then. He looked up at you for a brief second, giving you a small smile that practically melted your insides, and you were the one who had to pull your eyes away from his first. 

A silent conversation played out in a matter of seconds— he held the joint out toward you in offering, not even breaking the conversation with Gareth as he did so, and you grabbed it, taking a long drag before handing it back to him. 

You were only half-paying attention to what they were talking about, some new horror movie that you hadn’t gotten around to seeing yet. All you could really focus on was Eddie moving a bit and leaning against your legs. 

It wasn’t something that was entirely un-innocent— you could’ve easily pictured Robin or Steve or Nancy doing the same thing— but coming from Eddie it nearly drove you insane, and you had a feeling that he knew that. It was always the simplest of touches that made you essentially fold for him, when he’d place a hand on your knee whenever you were in the passenger seat of his van or when his hand would find the small of your back whenever you were at The Hideout and surrounded by way too many people. 

And it was especially easy to fold when you weren’t fully sober.  

You looked down at him and noticed the smirk on his face and you had to hold back your eye roll. If he was going to tease you, you were willing to do the same back. 

You abruptly got up from the couch. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” 

You didn’t wait for his response before you started walking away, but you hoped that he picked up on the request that was hidden beneath your words. 

The first floor bathroom was luckily empty and you flicked on the light as you closed the door behind you and faced the mirror above the sink. You were only looking at yourself for a brief second before the door opened and you turned around to face Eddie. 

The same fucking smirk was on his face as he pushed the door closed and locked it behind him and then immediately reached out for you. “C’mere.”

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head as you stepped back away from him. “I just wanted to talk.”

He let out a small laugh at that. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk.”

You leaned back against the sink and looked up at him. “So, what was that movie you and Gareth were talking about?”

He stepped closer to you, closing a bit of the small distance between you two. “A dumb horror movie.”

It was hard to ignore the feeling of his hands coming up to your waist, but you still did so anyway and you didn’t push him away. “Okay, so I shouldn’t go see it?”

Eddie only shook his head no in response. He started slowly rubbing your sides, his warm touch practically burning a hole in the dark high-waisted jeans you were wearing. 

“Do you have any recommendations?” You asked as your arms came up to loosely circle his neck. “I wanna watch something I haven’t seen before.” 

He didn’t answer your question that time around and instead leaned in to kiss you. But, you turned your head at the last second and he groaned into your neck, which only made you smile. 

“We can watch any movie you want right now if you let me take you home,” He mumbled, lips humming against your neck. 

“I have a feeling that we wouldn’t be watching the movie if that happened,” You said and held back your laughter at the second groan he let out. “And besides, we can’t leave yet. The cake hasn’t been cut and we haven’t even sung happy birthday. Don’t you remember how birthday parties work, Munson?”

“Your pretty face is making it really hard to remember anything, sweetheart,” He told you, pulling away and a hand came up to stroke your cheek. The cool feeling of the rings on his fingers brushing your skin was a nice contrast to the burn of your cheeks. 

Things had been changing recently, a shift that neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet; maybe because it was hard to tell what exactly was changing. And so, things kept continuing as it was.

You shook your head a little and let out a small laugh. “Always such a charmer.”

That time when he leaned in to slot his lips against yours, you didn’t turn your head away. 

“Only for you,” He playfully whispered against your lips. 

He pulled back before either of you could even think about making the kiss deeper and he looked at you so sweetly. You suddenly wished that the light was off and it was dark right then so that you didn’t have to see his face. 

That confused feeling was back, and you finally understood what it meant. It hit you so abruptly and harshly, it almost felt like you were finally being shaken awake to what was so obvious. You liked him— more than just a friend, more than you ever let yourself think before. And you almost instantaneously came to the conclusion that this, the way you were feeling, was entirely one-sided.  

When this first started, it was because both of you were essentially embracing that old saying of “if you wanna get over someone, get under someone else,” and it worked for you. And it wasn’t just the sex, it was the half-awake pillow talk moments after and listening to music in his van as you two sat outside your house when he was dropping you off that meant the most to you, that helped you actually get over your ex and his shittiness. But, you didn’t think that it was the same way for Eddie. 

He loved his ex, anyone with two eyes could see that. And he still loved her, more so than he let on, and that felt like something only you could see. The longing look on his face whenever he talked about her to you, the nostalgic smile he’d get whenever he mentioned something good about how they used to be. It was obvious how he still felt. 

And just like that, the spell that you’d been cast under in this moment was broken. 

You let out the smallest sigh and detangled yourself from him, letting your arms fall to your sides. 

He looked at you, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Maybe everything. “I’m gonna get some water.” 

You were pulling yourself out of his grasp and brushing past him toward the door, but Eddie’s hand found yours before you could twist the lock. 

Reluctantly, you met his eyes and his voice was soft as he spoke. “You can tell me anything, remember?” 

A few minutes ago that felt entirely true, now you weren’t so sure, but you still nodded anyway. “I know.” 

“So, what happened in the last thirty seconds?” 

A part of you wanted to say it. A part of you wanted to be honest with him. 

But, you couldn’t. 

Because you were convinced of what the outcome would be if you did— you could already imagine the sad and pitying look that would cross his face and essentially say it all. If you told the truth in this moment, it would fuck up your friendship and it would fuck up what you two had turned your friendship into. Therefore, you came to the quick decision that you could bury it all down for however long you needed to so that you didn’t mess anything up.

You bypassed Eddie’s question and instead closed the newfound space between you two, pushing yourself up on your toes and pressing your lips against his. The kiss was different this time around, it was no longer soft and teasing. It was deeper, more needy and desperate, and Eddie reciprocated in a matter of seconds. He turned you both around so that you were pressed up against the sink again and he immediately lifted you onto it, barely detaching from your lips in the process. 

If the circumstances were different, you would’ve fully let him do whatever he wanted to do to you in this bathroom. But, things wouldn’t go farther than this in here; not in Steve’s house, not with your friends just down the hall.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, your lips brushed against his ear as you spoke. “I want you to take me home tonight.”

The smile Eddie gave you made your heart constrict in your chest. It almost made you want to blurt out how you were feeling right then because maybe just maybe he actually did feel the same. 

But, of course, you didn’t say anything. You had another secret to keep and you would force yourself to be entirely okay with that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333