#whats that? all hope was lost but we got through it together anyway??? what if i 😭😭😭😭🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

[dixons-sunshine]

What Ifs | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: While cuddled up in bed one night, Daryl springs a question onto you, one that made you think. After seeing Daryl truly caught up on the ‘what ifs’, you took it upon yourself to reassure him as best as you could.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria

Warnings: None, other than a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it allusion to past sexual activity.

Word count: 1.1k.

A/N: This one’s for my Daryl lovers! Yes, I am very much still writing for Daryl, even though I’ve started writing for Joel lol. I haven’t forgotten my roots. Anyways, I had this idea and (kind of poorly) executed it (also please ignore how meh the summary is. I struggled coming up with one). I hope y’all like this!

“D’ya think we would’a been together? Under different circumstances, I mean?”

The sound of Daryl’s surprisingly soft, tentative question filled the quiet, blissful air. The room was dark, the only source of light being that of the moon that trickled in through the window and spilled past the barrier of the curtains. The hour was late, probably nearing midnight, with owls hooting in the distance and crickets chirping outside the window. Sleep tugged at your eyelids, but the archer’s question kept you awake.

“What do you mean?” you inquired in a voice just as soft, raising your head from its position on his shoulder to peer down at him. Your fingers trailed over the bare flesh of his chest, being extra gentle whenever you came across one of his many scars. Blankets covered you both, tugged over you by your partner after a night of pleasure.

Daryl did not answer. Not at first. He stayed silent, his eyes—blue like the water in the ocean—looked anywhere but at you at first. The door, the dresser, his crossbow leaning against the wall, the curtains, until finally they landed on you. His gaze was uncertain, insecure, like he was scared his question would make you mad, and your heart ached.

“Daryl,” you began, making sure to keep your voice soft, gentle, almost honey-like, “it’s okay. You can tell me.”

Inhaling shakily, Daryl ducked his eyes down again. He drew lazy circles over your hip, hoping to anchor himself before he got lost in the abyss that was his mind. Despite his build, he looked so small in that moment, so vulnerable, and it made you want to hug him tightly and soothe his troubles away.

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” Daryl started slowly, swallowing at the lump that threatened to form in his throat. “Jus’... if we met under different circumstances, maybe earlier in life or in a world where none’a this bullshit ever happened, would we still be here today? Together? Or…”

Daryl couldn’t finish the question. He didn’t want to finish the question. Voicing this worry out loud made him feel foolish. Why did it matter? You were with him now. You were his woman, and he was your man. You loved each other. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?

You took a minute to ponder over his question. You wanted to say yes, but you couldn’t say that for sure. Thinking back, you and Daryl lived two completely different lives. You had a job, an apartment, a life that seems like a pipedream compared to the one you led now. Daryl… his life hadn’t been that simple, and he never truly had any roots. If you had met in a world where the apocalypse never happened, would you have spared him a second glance? Would you have asked him out, introduced him to the people closest to you, done all the things couples did back then?

Then there was Merle to consider, the life Daryl lived with him before the outbreak. Would that have hindered Daryl from keeping in contact with you if you two met in a world where the outbreak didn’t happen? Would he have tried to break free from Merle’s shadow and live his own life, a life that wasn’t dangerous to have you involved in?

The answer wasn’t as simple as saying yes or no. There was a lot to take into consideration. You both lived very different lives before the apocalypse, but would fate have come into play? Would you still have ended up together? You couldn’t say.

“You want my honest answer?” you asked after a good minute of silence.

Daryl’s heart dropped at that, fearing the worst, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, I do.”

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “I want to say yes. I want to believe with my whole heart that destiny would have brought us together regardless of how or when we met, but I can’t say that for sure.” Laying your head back down on Daryl’s shoulder, you kissed his pulse point, smiling to yourself when a shiver rolled over his spine. “But I choose not to think about that. You wanna know why?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

“Because I have you now.” You pressed a string of soft, loving kisses against his neck, before continuing. “In a weird way, I’m grateful that the apocalypse happened because it led me to you.” You paused. “Although I definitely wish we didn’t have to lose so many people because of all of this.”

Many different faces flashed through Daryl’s mind when you said that. “Definitely could’a gone without all the losses.”

You nodded in agreement. Willing your mind away from thinking about all the friends you lost since the quarry, you spoke up again. “But my point is that it doesn’t matter. The ‘what ifs’. We have each other now, despite everything we had to overcome. So what if some alternate versions of us don’t end up together? We are together in this universe, and that’s all that matters. And for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be yours. I love you, Daryl, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say. He had never been good with words, and no words would ever perfectly convey just how much Daryl loved you, how grateful he was to have you in his life, to be able to share his life with you. You deserved the world, and for as long as Daryl was alive, he would try to give you that.

“I love ya, too,” Daryl finally whispered quietly, his arm that held you to him tightening slightly, pulling you even closer. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shh. Don’t talk like that. Of course you do.”

He didn’t address everything you said. He didn’t need to. You knew he had heard everything you said, knew he appreciated it. Daryl was a man of few words, but his eyes showed it all, and you saw everything in those beautiful blue pools. You knew he appreciated what you said. Would that feeling—one he had for reasons you didn’t know of just yet—of his go away after one speech? Most likely not, but thankfully, you had time to show him just how much you loved him, and that he didn’t have to get caught up on the ‘what if’ scenarios.

“Daryl?” you said after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad I know you now. There’s nobody I’d rather take on the apocalypse with.”

Daryl chuckled at that and tenderly kissed the top of your head. “Me too, Sweetheart. Me too.”

[yayasvalveplay]

Akdjfj sup yaya!!! I just remembered that small Wapath ask I realized that I never really talked about him in my defense my thoughts are scrambled as hell rn adhd curse so once I articulate my thoughts into text and have time ITS ALL OVER FOR YOU BITCHES

But anyways, I wanna talk about Warpath my beloved bastard who haunts my brain I SWEAR I CHOSE HIM FOR AN ACTUAL THOUGHT OUT REASON AND NOT RANDOM I SWEAR.

Such as that ask beforehand mentioning that he's loyal to ultra magnus. That is just PART of why I chose him. Now... when's the first time we see Warpath. On episode 6 of season 3... what's the first thing we see Warpath doing?

Immediately throwing Prowl to Yoketron, genuinely like GENUINELY pissed that Prowl refuses to fight. Enough that he even compares any bot that refuses to fight Decepticons no better than a con itself. (Also you should listen to his voice bro is scaryyy 😭) Not only wishing Prowl rot in the stockade but even threatening to take him out back and force him to the war had Yoketron not intervened. (also I forgot that he legit says bam pow, and other booming noises HES A STIMMER WHEELIE AND HIM AUTUSM GANG dammit now I wantHestia to have something similar :3)

Anyway— Warpath canonically has anger issues; he's been taught by Yoketron to be honorable and loyal— but he gets violent and HE HAS taken the law in his hands, beating the shit out of criminals before sending them to jail.

Its also canon that Warpath had lead a team during the War and presumably they all died via typical war or Oil Slick's cosmic rust (funfact: Whirl was actually a part of the team and is now presumed dead as hell :D) sooo yeah he's got PTSD that maayyy be a reason for his anger issues 😭

ALSO HE AND FLAREUP ARE TOGETHER, HE LOVES HER AND CALLS HER A DEMOLITION GODDESS, HE LOVES HOW FIESTY HE IS. THEY ARE SO IN LOVE THAT I LOVE THEM, FLAREUP ALSO HAS A SOUTHERN ACCENT BAHHHH I LOVE THESE TWO NOT EVEN MINUTE LONG BACKGROUND CHARACTERS.

Now... all of this. It does paint a picture, at least I hope it does. That Warpath would've never let any Decepticons lay their servos on him or Flareup. He wouldve fought to the death, he can be an immovable object/unstoppable force. Warpath would've never been thrown into the pit becasue he would rather die...

So the question is, why is he there? And more importantly where is Flareup?

She's dead.

Died during the battle between the two factions as the Decepticons rained down on Cybertron and took over, the Allspark in Megatron's servos. The Autobots failed, of course they would— how could they go up against the Allspark? Warpath might not seen Flareup's death. That doesn't mean he DIDN'T FEEL IT, their bond breaking that he fell over in horror. He might as well been shot through his chest.

Warpath was in genuine shock before it turned to a violent grief; he lost it before being eventually subdued.

When Yoketron was killed by the Lockdown, the traitor. Warpath was devastated. He struggled to have an outlet for his aggression, evening go far as to mod his sonic radar into a cannon.

Warpath mourned Yoketron. But Flareup... his Goddess of Demolition, his love was gone.

This. This is what broke Warpath, what lead him to become truly violent. A beast that the Decepticons restrained in chains as he grieved, howled and mauled. His movements and size no longer used gracefully and with precision. Warpath was genuinely too violent to Cons for them to breed him, or even use him as a soldier. And thus Warpath was thrown into the pit to die.

Warpath had essentially become a zombie, when he wasn't dragged out by force to fight or be fed measly cubes to keep him alive. Warpath wanted to join Flareup. It was only by pitied by trapped bots who knew his reputation/name. Or Decepticons who force fed him. The bots didn't want to lose another; hence why he's still alive.. Warpath was cold, tired and so so angry, he barely acknowledged people or talked to them even in their housings.

Warpath was in deep depression. Until one day since the takeover... as he limped back to his room, exhausted and injured from today's mass event, wishing nothing more than to lock himself away and rot.

Warpath heard a cry. A sparkling's cry specifically... It takes a little to focus with Warpath's mental state. But it isn't hard to hear as the cries echo throughout the hallways. it's there, most likely near the many entrances or 'office' rooms of the Pit.

Since the takeover, it wasn't common for sparklings or younglings to be brought in by handlers as investments. If they weren't claimed by any system or their sire; they would be bought or dumped here. It wasn't new, so a handler was bound to bring attention to the pitiful peircing cries. So Warpath chose to ignore it, rubbing his helm as he felt his processor and body ache.

Minutes pass, the crying still continues, and Warpath has yet to hear steps of anyone taking the newborn away. The sparkling’s crying has reached its peak and is wearing Warpath down. Anger boils inside him—his large frame struggles before getting up to find the damn noise—dragging himself bitterly towards the squalling wails as his erratic optics looked around; searching for anyone to stop the crying. It's a full schedule today. Everyone's still outside.

And there it was. The source coming from a small crate on the floor along with other crates just delivered. Warpath sunk down, his enormous frame hunching over to see the squirming bundle in an open crate. There it was, the sparkling in a mesh raggedy blanket.

Warpath glared down at its cries, his optics briefly looking around while his audials rang from the wails, overwhelming his senses. No one, not even an 'employee' had come forth, his servos reached and grabbed the crate. The bitty had a strong voice module, their cries only stooping to whimpers and whines as tiny arms waved helplessly. The mesh blanket unwrapped by careful red digits.

His optics immediately widened in alarm; his servos nearly dropped the crate. Warpath briefly reconsidered his already poor sanity in order to correct himself, if he is actually seeing this. If this was actually true.

Her optics, a little femme with a blue optic... and red optic; her helm and still developing colors and kibble looked eerily similar... to their former leader of Cybertron; Ultra Magnus...

The thing that truly shocked Warpath to his core was her tiny little face, and her tiny body holding... certain aspects that didn't belong to her carrier. They belong to her Sire.

This bitty was an half breed; she had Con CNA inside her.

Rage bubbled in the red mech's spark; and a dark sinister thought emerged. Kill the half-breed. Just as quickly as that idea came, it was crushed by disgust towards himself. Master Yoketron would've apprehended him for daring to think such a thing like that; it was dishonorable and disgusting.

For despite having vile Con CNA, the bitty also had Autobot CNA and he couldn't dimish that. More importantly; if his assumption was true... that this... bitty's carrier was Ultra Magnus. That would take the option of getting rid of her out the window, she had the chance to possibly be something more if the Decepticons don't kill her or keep her chained down for being cursed, doomed already at the start by her creators' CNA.

Warpath slowly picked up the tiny femme, rocking her awkwardly in his large servos as she finally calmed down. Her round tired optics taking in her surroundings before focusing on the red giant. She let out a small chirp and a yawn, cuddling into his servos for warmth. Warpath stood still, frozen before slowly getting up–trudging back.

It was a idiotic thing to do; a desperate fool he was to take an investment. Warpath wasn't soft, her crying had irrated him, this bitty needs actual caretakers, he is not her Sire—

Perhaps a part of him wanted to feel useful again, regain some meager form of honor or loyalty towards the Autobot cause, to the Elite Gaurd, to Ultra Magnus, to Yoketron... to Flareup. Warpath will find a reason later, and he'll deny, deny, deny the reasons why he took the bitty in.

Hours later, the handlers will discover the empty crate and begin a search for the sparkling. They will eventually locate her in Warpath's cell; sleeping in a berth made out of makeshift materials. The gaurds will try to take her away only to be met by a snarling red beast, voice hissing that if they try—he'll show them why he's chained to the pit.

The handlers begrudgingly... let this slide, at the alarm of all the gladiators and slaves. This is the first time Warpath had actually warned them to back off, the first that he wasn't tearing apart grunts for simply coming near him... as evidence of the hastily scrubbed energon on the walls. Besides– the femme is still an investment, it would be interesting to see how she will turn out under their red beast's care. They leave, the other gladiators forced back to their rooms, one orange youngling's optics refusing to leave them even as his door closed.

ANDHHF ANYWAYS THESE ARE MY SILLY THOUGHTS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK I GOT SO MUCH MORE

MION. MION I CAN NOT. AHHHHHHHH GIRL. I AM HMMMM. I AM UNHINGED AFTER READING THIS. I NEED MORE. AND I NEED TO KNOW WHO HER SIRE IS BECAUSE FOR THE LIFE OF ME I STILL CAN NOT THINK OF WHAT DECEPTICON WOULD FRAG HIM TO MAKE HER.

[lightlycareless]

warnings: another domestic fluff piece. u.u does it reflect my solace? lmao. you're pregnant and happy but insecure and naoya tries his best but maybe that's not enough? we'll see.

Once Naoya miraculously manages to get some time off from his work, he doesn’t hesitate to spend it with you—his 8-month pregnant wife.

He promised to do so, after all. Wanting to complete all pending preparations for the arrival of his baby, as well as make up for the lost time he should’ve been spending with you instead of his boring, dull job. Sure, they pay the bill and he enjoys it…

But he’d rather be with you and his unborn child! A much pleasant company.

And of course, you’re ecstatic to have your husband all for yourself for the following weeks (hopefully months). There was so much you wanted to do, so much to talk about. Now that he’s here, the sky’s the limit!

However, just because you had an endless check list to go through, and his disposition to please you in every way possible, didn’t mean he’d actually let you do whatever you wanted.

Simply because…

“—You can’t do that. Do I have to remind you you’re pregnant?”

You frown.

“I’m pregnant, not useless.” You respond. “Other mothers do it, why can’t I?”

“Because it’s toxic, for you and the baby. As a matter of fact, you should be stressing even less now that you’re just a few weeks away from giving birth.”

“I doubt painting a nursery will do much damage!” you respond, looking away with a pout. “It’s not fair, I’ve been waiting for you to do this together and now you’re saying I can’t?!”

“Yes, because I didn’t see the contents of the painting beforehand; either way we can just hire someone to do it, and move on—”

But you don’t want that. It was never in your vision to have some random person come into your home to paint your baby’s room.

It was something meant for the parents to complete. A symbolic way of pouring out their endless love for their upcoming bundle of joy; through small affirmations scattered across the walls, decorated with cute animals that would comfort her or him through the stillness of the night, just enough before they’re scooped up into their parents’ warmth.

Things that no stranger will be able to achieve, no matter how determined their good intentions are…

Which is why you’re disappointed to see that Naoya didn’t understand such details; that much was clear when you simply turned around and walked away.

“Hey, wait, Y/N—!” Naoya gasps, attempting to take ahold of you; but even in your fragile state, you prove much quicker. Not for much when he eventually corners you just around the corner. “Seriously? Are you really planning to ignore me for the rest of the day now that I finally got time to spend with you??”

“…Maybe.” You say, barely managing to control the embarrassment his words provided you. Quite unfair, isn’t it? Not as much as his unreasonable solution. “What does it matter anyway…”

“A lot. It matters a lot to me!” He insists. “I don’t see any reason to get all heated about a simple mural, our child won’t even acknowledge it!”

Call it a consequence of your always fluctuating hormones, or maybe your discontent at his response of what you thought highly important in this part of both your lives, and your unborn child’s… alongside a secret burden you’ve been carrying along for quite a while now…

You can’t help but weep.

And weep, and weep—letting out everything that you’ve been unconsciously bottling up these past few weeks; things that you furtively hoped would disappear now that Naoya was around.

But it only seemed to worsen, as if his presence was silently judging you for being a failure of a mother. A failure of a wife. If you can’t complete such feeble thing, what hope is there for you to raise a child? His successor, ultimately?

Was all this a mistake?

Your reaction is not one that Naoya allows to continue much longer.

“Wa—wait, Y/N—! What—What’s wrong?!” He gasps, attempting to get a better look of your face (though it greatly hurt him to do so) and discern if you were in pain and proceed accordingly. “Y/N… why are you crying? Do I need to call the doctor??”

“What? No!”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I—I don’t know—because I’m—I’m—angry!” you reply, but after all these years together, Naoya knows well it’s more than that. Far more.

“With me?” He murmurs.

…

“No, with myself.”

“Why? Why would you ever feel that way about yourself?” Naoya frets. “You’re—”

Perfect.

“No, I’m not. I’m a failure.”

“Huh?? What?????” It’s utter nonsense for you to exclaim such things when you’ve been nothing but attentive, dedicated, and selfless at everything relating to the baby and him—Naoya has even felt undeserving of it! Did you forget how much of a prick he was at the beginning of this relationship? And yet, you stayed! Changed him for the better!

If anything, this label was far more fitting on him thanks to his stupidly prolonged absence.

…Not you, whom he knew would be perfect as a mother already.

No one is more deserving of all the happiness in the world than you, it’s simply a miracle that he was able to share these blessings with you.

“What are you even talking about…?” Naoya murmurs, his voice denoting pain. Can he even offer you reassurance at this point?

“I just—I just feel like… I’m—I’m supposed to do certain things, right? Now that we’re going to be parents—there’s… there’s expectations I have to fulfill! But I can’t even paint a goddamn nursery, what makes me think I can be a good mother?!”

“If those are the metrics for comparison, I am delighted to say you’ve passed with flying colors.” Naoya says, hoping to lighten part of the weight on your heart… to no avail. “…A nursery shouldn’t be something to stress about, my love. We can always hire someone to—”

“It’s supposed to be us! Don’t you get it?!” you cry. “We have to be there for our baby, because no one else will if we don’t!”

Naoya already knew that. From the moment he got with you, to when he finally began to daydream about the family he’d like to have with you, simply an extension of his unconditional devotion towards you.

And yet, as obvious as they were… when you pronounced these facts, it’s as if he heard them for the first time.

Or perhaps truly understood the depths of his new responsibilities. Just how much both your and his life were to change the moment his baby is born.

Most of his life, he always depended on others to do the things he didn’t want to, or didn’t know how to. It was just as easy as flaunting his name, and whatever perturbed him was no longer an issue.

And it seemed to work with you too, though you weren’t too optimistic about it in the beginning, even tried reasoning with him, explain that it was a bit too dramatic.

But Naoya simply didn’t want you to struggle, if you were to be his woman, then you couldn’t entertain such trivialities when you could be focusing on him (or so he tries to justify, he simply enjoys spoiling you). So, eventually, you agreed.

But when it comes to his child, it’s a whole different world. One that still as him giving her all that she wants… while getting recognition for it.

To be admired by his starry-eyed baby, known in her mind as the greatest papa ever.

Not an ounce of her attention would be relayed to others, outside of you, of course. Naturally. Why did he even consider bringing in a stranger to finish something so significative to the three?

Only you and Naoya know just how long both have been waiting to finally have her in your arms. To see if they’d look like him, you… or even a combination of the two. Though he hoped she’d take after you.

Much was expected from someone as devoted, and possessive protective like Naoya, it’s only a shame it took your tears for him to realize.

“You’ve been undeservingly patient with me, my love.” He says, slowly wiping away the tears sliding down your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to appear insensitive to your… our concerns.”

You don’t respond, unable to go beyond a few sobs and whimpers, still trying to process your emotions. Not that you needed to say much, Naoya already got your message loud and clear.

“I… I guess it’s time I put my other talents to use.” He adds, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve done anything, but I’d like to think I still know how to hold a pencil. Or a brush for that matter.”

“…But what—what about…? You said—” you breathe.

“This is the reason why I got time off, princess. To be with you, and our baby. If not, why did I even bother?” He reassures, gently placing his hand over your stomach. His little princess must be asleep, for she always responds to his touch with a kick. “I’ve done worse, after all. Surely a few drawings on a bunch of walls can’t be too intimidating.”

You let out a breathy chuckle in between sniffles, before moping once again.

“But I won’t be able to do much…”

“You’re right. You’d be crazy to think I’d let you anywhere near toxic paint. But, you can still help me sketch… or at least decide what’s going on the nursery, I don’t know much about what kids like these days.”

“A Gengar would be nice.” You murmur. “It’d be a way to pass on my legacy!”

“I’ve never judged your tastes, because clearly I’m one of them.” He smirks, you roll your eyes. “But don’t you think that might be a bit… much for our child? Scary, I mean?”

“…I guess so.” You frown, going back into deep thought. “Something generic might do it, then. Like Snoopy! Everyone likes Snoopy, right?”

“Perhaps. What’s that other one? That really popular cat we’ve seen everywhere it’s almost nauseating?”

“Oh, Hello Kitty?” Naoya nods. “That one’s cute too! Waybe we can go with My Melody instead? Or Pochacco! We still don’t know if they’re going to be a boy or a girl, but I doubt it’d matter much early on.”

“Let’s just start with that one for now. When our baby grows and her preferences become more sophisticated, we can adapt. Naturally my daughter won’t settle for anything less than what she deserves.”

“There you go again, how can you be so sure our baby is going to be a girl?” you frown.

“Must be something to do with my impressive lineage.” He shrugs.

“You better not be cheating!”

“Me? Cheating? Impossible.” He laughs, you playfully smack his shoulder.

“…I wonder what character’s our baby will end up liking. Will they like anime like you? Or maybe even videogames, like me!” you swoon, eager to have your child in your arms already. There’s so much you wished to share with them… can’t they hurry?

“Could be both. Or none.” Naoya responds. “Not that it’d matter much, I’ll spoiler her anyways.”

“Even if it’s Hello Kitty? The character you’re sick of seeing everywhere?” you tease, he chuckles.el

“As if that were to happen. I told you, our child will grow to have sophisticated tastes like us.”

“We ought to make a bet.” You say. “If I’m right… you’ll buy me all the sushi I’ve been craving these past few months! No matter where or when, you’ll comply!”

“Alright, and what if I win?” Your husband smirks. “What do I get?”

You blush.

“Seems more like another reward for you, but it’s still an arrangement I can get behind.” He accepts. “Not that I needed much convincing, I know what’s going to happen anyways.”

“Yeah right, what now? You can see the future?” you jest.

Obviously not. But even if he could, it wouldn’t mean much with the lesson he’s learned that day; the importance of doing things yourself. That a simple act made through one’s hands could be far more valuable than the most expensive things in the world.

The importance it’ll have when his child eventually comes along and realizes all that their parents have done for them, simply because they’re so loved.

…

…

…

And of course, to not make bets on future variables less he wishes to be reminded of such mistake every time he ends up seeing that damned character popping up in her daughter’s newest belongings.

… Not that he ever genuinely disliked such famed white cat. How could he? For whenever he sees it, it only reminds him of the little bundle of joy he has waiting at home.

you and naoya were like: ah well, we can always change the nursery later on, right? it's not like naomi is going to obsess about hello kitty.

right????

also for the first time in his life naoya wanted to learn how to do things instead of having someone else do it for him because he wants his baby to admire him is so aghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! now, don't get me wrong, he still skips certain things but he's trying TT_TT fatherhood scared him until naomi came along 🥺

[avocado62524]

[mo-ok]

Hey! Hope you're doing alright!

What is your Top 5 Toku/Power Rangers/Superhero shows/movies moments that made you happy cry? (Mine is when the citizens/civilians are cheering for our heroes to save the day 🙌 ❤️:'))

Oof ough ouch ok 😭😭 these ones wont be in any kind of order, as ranking them i think would make me throw up, so instead pls enjoy the first five that come to mind

1. who HASNT sobbed at the in space "i'm a power ranger!" scene like get real with me right now. Never a dry eye in sight, the ultimate power rangers moment (honourable mention to Megaranger because that ending also had me sobbing like a baby)

2. Gem and Gemma running back to the gang after their "deaths" in rpm. Rose McIver SOLD that heartbreak and then seeing them come back filled my heart with relief and my eyes with tears

3. When Sosuke/Saki/Renn use the other go ongers weapons to show that the team is together no matter what OOF. OUCH. "i'm borrowing your only one" OOF. OUCH.

4. I held myself together really well throughout the Gingaman final but then Ryouma let out one last wet eyed scream to the sky and i just 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 AND THEN AN EQUALLY WET EYED HYUUGA COMFORTING GOUKI I FUCKINNNNGGGG

PLEASE WATCH GINGAMAN

5. Toqger had me in tears for like... the whole last 5 episodes but they did very much become happy tears by the end please watch toqger its amazing its beautiful its brilliant

[aurorawritestoescape]

WINTER HEAT

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,1k

Summary: Joel helps you to get warm after a patrol.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, FLUFF, comfort, kinda grumpy and sunshine reversed, soft!Joel, reader hates winter (me-coded), Joel’s reading glasses, consensual somno, wet dreams, pet names, fingering, squirting, unprotected piv, creampie. No tlou2 spoilers! Reader has no specific physical features.

A/n: this is written for @sizzlingcloudmentality and @guiltyasdave ‘s Writing through the seasons challenge. Thank you for such a cool event, lovelies!💞 I got Winter with Joel and a wonderful mb that you can see at the end of the fic❤️ Kisses to my love @milla-frenchy for the fireplace idea and for beta-ing💋 And a shout out to a blizzard we had here in April that fueled my hate for the cold :/ Anyway, I hope you all will like the story and it brings you comfort, too. Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You arrived in Jackson in spring. The sun was bright and warm and the town looked heavenly in its golden rays. The white mountain tops against the blue of the endless sky took your breath away. You felt at home right away, welcomed by the beauty of nature, greeted by the kind people who lived there. Although, one person in particular stood out to you immediately.

Tall, broad and handsone, with a ’don’t fuck with me’ glare, a man by the name Joel was asked to help you settle in your new place. You got to know him better when he became your first patrol partner — experienced and capable, Joel was chosen to keep an eye on a newbie like you. At first, you scoffed at him teaching you things you already knew, but as soon as you proved yourself to be an excellent shot, cool headed and careful, Joel stopped acting like your babysitter. You two worked so well together, that no one wanted to separate you afterwards.

Days passed and it became obvious that Joel and you were a perfect match not only as patrol partners. Like two lonely souls you drifted towards each other and a month after meeting him, you found yourself sleeping in his bed, and a week later living in his house.

You heard rumours about his past here and there, but it never bothered you. Who hadn’t done some shit during a literal apocalypse? Once a drunk guy at ‘The Tipsy Bison’ called Joel a monster and immediately got bitch-slapped by you. You were fuming, but Joel remained calm and led you away, his arm around your waist.

You couldn’t believe what some were saying. Joel was caring and kind and you were happy to share your present and your future with him, to help each other heal the wounds of the past.

The summer came and Joel made it magical. Your patrols felt more like dates — the scent of meadows in the air, two of you on a horseback, talking and laughing quietly, trying not to attract clickers. You relished every minute with him, even out of the safety of the town walls.

Fortunately, you had enough time to get lost in Joel completely, forget the dangers of the world you were living in and focus on its beauty.

Your now common home became your favourite place. You spent every possible moment outside in the backyard, basking in the sun, flowers in your hair, Joel’s lips on your neck. He grumbled about his aching knees but still fucked you on the grass every time you were sunbathing in your simple bikini you’d found at the clothes shop.

“Can’t walk past when you’re splayed like this,” he gruffed in your ear, thrusting his cock into you, your bikini bottoms pulled to the side.

“I was —ahh- jus’ enjoying the sun, Joel.”

“Yeah and now I'm enjoyin you.”

You felt his smile on your cheek and playfully licked his sweaty face, earning a light slap on your hip and a low chuckle from the man. When he grazed that magical spot inside your core, you squeezed your eyes shut and came on his cock, your loud moan fused with the bird chirping in the tree over your heads.

Now

You’re shielding your eyes with your gloved hand, covering them from a chilling wind. A shiver hits your body so hard that even Joel notices you trembling.

”Gonna be home soon, honey!” he shouts to you, grabbing the reins of his horse tighter as you two are riding to the gates. You grumble an ‘ok’, which immediately gets swallowed by the howling of the blizzard, and try to keep your teeth from banging but in vain.

As soon as you get home, you throw off your clothes, the cold woven into every inch of the fabric, and run upstairs to the only place that can warm you up - a bath. When Joel comes home from the stables, you’ve already dried yourself, put on a few layers of home clothes and nestled under a duvet.

This is how he finds you in the bedroom — an unmoving lump on the bed.

You feel the mattress dip next to you, a light pat lands on your ass.

“Ya hungry?”

“No.” Your voice is barely audible, your sad eyes set on the window. Joel sighs and asks softly,

“What is it, baby?”

“I hate winter. Hate snow. I’m tired of freezing my ass off every patrol.”

Joel hums and after following your line of vision stares at the blizzard, raging outside.

“I can make you some hot tea.”

”I don’t want any tea,” you mumble, covering your face with the duvet, hiding your sour expression and trying to warm up your still cold nose. Joel’s heavy hand rests on your back and he starts slowly rubbing it, giving you the comfort that you need so much yet refuse to accept because of your mood.

“What if I ask Tommy to assign you something else?”

“No!”

You yank the duvet off your face and glare at him.

“Don’t! I’m not a quitter.”

Joel stares at you, his brows raised, and you add, a little softer now, “I'll be fine.”

Your tone is far from fine and Joel knows that it’s better to leave you alone right now.

“Ok, I’m gonna have dinner. Hope you’ll join me.”

He gets up and leaves the bedroom. You watch the blizzard for a few minutes and then fall asleep, your body exhausted by constant shivering.

You wake up when it’s dark outside, the clock says you’ve slept for 3 hours. The wind has calmed down and fluffy snowflakes are floating by the window. You hate to leave the bed but your stomach is grumbling and, not risking the cold of the room creeping into your cocoon of warmth, you wrap the duvet around yourself and head downstairs.

You see Joel crouching in front of the fireplace in the living room, his back to you. He’s wearing a white tee and a pair of sweatpants and just the sight of his exposed arms makes you shiver.

“Hey,” you call softly, hating to startle him, and when he doesn’t hear you, because of the crackle of the fire or his bad ear, you say his name louder. Joel glances back and you see the fire burning bright behind him.

“Wow. Big one.” You widen your eyes, watching Joel carefully stir the logs.

“Made it for ya. And this.”

He nods to a pile of pillows and blankets, lying on the floor.

“Are we making a fort?” you laugh, looking at the mess on the floor, and Joel glares up at you with a fake annoyance in his sparkling eyes.

“‘s for you to sit on.”

“Oh,” you nod, realizing that he’s made this cozy warming place for you.

“Sit down. I’ll bring you dinner.”

“Oh,” you repeat but now your voice wavers and you get overcome with love and gratitude for the man. How could anyone call him a monster? And how the hell did you get so lucky?

You have your dinner in your makeshift nest, your eyes set on the fire dancing vividly in the fireplace, while Joel is reading next to you on the couch, the flames reflecting in his glasses.

The orange light is the only thing illuminating the room and you get mesmerized by the changing shadows on the walls. Your duvet is a cape on your shoulders right now, the heat from the fire warming you perfectly.

“Thank you, Joel,” you say, placing the empty plate on the side table and throwing the duvet off. He hums but his eyes are still set on the book.

You stand on your knees between his legs and tentatively take the book out of his hands. Your lips curve with a mischievous smile as you pull him down by his wrist.

“Nah-ah, I ain’t sittin on the floor.”

“Hey, you made this comfy bed, now come join me. Please,” you add, your puppy eyes begging.

Joel sighs, takes his glasses off and gets up with a grumble. He settles next to you in front of the fireplace, leans against the couch, and you quickly get comfortable between his legs, your back against his broad chest. His arms wrap around you and you smile like a cat in the sun.

It’s much easier for you to apologize when you’re not looking at him.

“I’m sorry, Joel. I’ve been a grumpy grump.”

“‘s ok. I know you’re snappy when you’re cold. Or hungry. Or sleepy. Or..”

“OK, stop it!” you laugh, playfully hitting his forearm. “You make me sound like such a pleasure to live with.”

“You are a pleasure. It’s jus‘ winter.”

“Yeah. I hate winter.”

You sink into his embrace and a warm wave runs from the place between your legs up to your belly and then chest. A happy sigh falls from your lips — fed, warmed up, wrapped in Joel’s arms, you finally feel content.

You tilt your head up to look at Joel and he gives you a soft smile, the light of the fire making his handsome face golden. His gaze slides from your eyes to your mouth before he leans down and kisses you. His lips are chapped, his beard is scruffy and harsh against your delicate skin, but you’ve never had a more tender kiss in your life.

Craving more, you part your lips to let him slip inside and he licks into your mouth, tasting you. You're languidly making out, but with the flames of the fire in front of you, and the furnace that is Joel Miller at your back, you get overheated in seconds and start squirming between Joel’s legs. You whine into his mouth and he parts from you, his brow raised up in question.

“Mm?”

“Too hot.” You sit up with a grunt while Joel looks extremely pleased with himself.

“Good. You’re finally warm.”

“I’m not warm, Joel, I’m hot,” you complain and start pulling your sweater and a long sleeve off, but immediately get tangled in the layers.

“D’ya need a hand?” Joel chuckles, watching you struggle. You’re huffing and puffing until he hears a muffled ‘yeah’ behind all the clothes and helps you to take the excess off. Finally, you can breathe, left wearing a tee with nothing underneath. You don’t remember the last time you had only a t-shirt on at home, but the fire has warmed up the air so nicely that you don’t feel it on your skin at all.

You lean back against Joel’s chest again, his arms find their place around your shoulders, and it takes only a few minutes of cozy silence and Joel’s slow breathing at your ear to lull you to sleep.

You dream of summer and Joel. He's lying in your backyard, right on the grass, waiting for you with his arms open, and you fall into his embrace like it's the warmest ocean. He rolls you onto your back, pinning you with his comforting weight, and gives you a kiss. It's a hot day and your back dampens with sweat, but you don't squirm under him, don't show a trace of discomfort. There isn't any. You revel in the heat of the sun over your heads, in the warmth of Joel's body, big and strong, caging you against the soft grass.

A wave of heat rises deep inside your core, when Joel's hand slithers between your bodies and he cups your pussy over your clothes. His thick fingers, confident but gentle, start massaging your folds, and you moan into his mouth, slowly melting into your underwear. You break the kiss, and, wishing to see his dear face, flutter your eyes open.

Instead of Joel, a bright orange light appears in front of you, but it's not the summer sun you've been dreaming about. The burning fireplace blinds you for a second and, startled by its intensity, you jerk.

"Shhh, baby, ‘s fine."

You hear a soft baritone, feel a firm chest at your back, and reality slowly seeps back into your mind, calming you down.

“Joel,“ you croak and a sudden whimper falls from your lips, when you realize that not everything in the dream was the result of your imagination. You look down and see Joel’s hand cupping your pussy over your panties and leggings, his thumb gently rubbing your folds. It moves just over your covered clit, stimulating it slowly, nonetheless building your pleasure drop by drop.

“Joel,” you murmur again but it’s a moan now, coated in need and want. He presses his lips to your temple, his voice echoes your desire.

“I’m here, honey. Jus’ playin with her a little. ‘s ok?”

“Mmm, always,” you breathe out as your finger traces the veins on his hand. The hand that protects you, takes care of you, makes you see stars.

His palm is resting on the place that belongs to him and he has a right to use you whenever he pleases. You don’t mind one bit. You talked about it before and you gave him a green light to do whatever he wanted to you in your sleep. The idea of waking up wet and stretched around his cock or with his lips wrapped around your clit always made your head spin.

Now the warmth of his hand seeps through your leggings and your cunt purrs like a kitten at the feather-light stimulation. Your eyelids get so heavy it’s impossible to keep them open, and you close them, concentrating on Joel’s fingers dancing over your pussy. You take a deep breath and drift off again.

Your body slumps against Joel’s chest so he knows you’re sleeping. He keeps holding your beating heat in his hand, enjoying your warmth, feeling your pulse against his skin. Soon his composure gets overtaken by the need to feel you fully - your wetness on his skin, your pussy fluttering in his palm, your body unraveling around his fingers, flooding them with your juices.

Carefully, inch by inch, holding his breath, Joel pulls your leggings and panties down, not too low, but enough to free your beautiful cunt. The heat of the fire brings the scent of your need to Joel’s nostrils and he takes a deep breath, sharp and shaky, devouring it, his desire for you already stiff in his pants.

Joel knows you need him too, judging by a soft moan escaping your half parted lips, and he hooks your leg with his knee and opens you up, so his hand could find place between your thighs. He cups your naked cunt and his cock twitches and grows, demanding to stuff your soft hole. He contemplates taking you right now, fucking you slowly and steadily, keeping you asleep, but he loves playing with your pussy too much. She’s always warm and wet for him and the little noises you make are the prettiest he’s ever heard.

The sight of your wet folds, glistening with arousal, sends a shiver down his spine and Joel slightly squeezes your pussy in his huge hand. You hum and he reads it like a signal.

Joel’s middle finger pushes between your slick petals and into your warm hole, carefully, knuckle after knuckle. He grits his teeth, swallowing a groan that’s crawling up his throat, while he feels just how wet you’re for him, your pussy craving him too.

He moves his finger in and out a few times and then pushes another one in.

The effect on you is immediate. Your chest starts rising and falling fast, your eyelids flutter and you moan again and again, your song is barely audible with the fire crackling so close. Joel’s fingers are moving in and out your cunt, but one thing is missing and his desperation for it grows. Your beautiful eyes.

”Honey,” he calls through your sleep, “please.. need you to wake up.”

You open your eyes with a long whimper, a wave of pleasure swallowing you all at once, it overwhelms you. Joel’s fingers buried inside your hole, your thighs already trembling, your belly heaving, your core burning like the fire in front of your eyes.

“Gonna make you come… Look at me… Need to see..”

Joel’s voice is strained with lust, impatience turns his breath heavy, and you tilt your head to face him, to give him what he wants. You desire it, too, desperately, to come, to unravel with him drinking up the pleasure on your face.

Joel manhandles you to rest your head against his shoulder and you bite your lip, seeing what you’ve done to him— his eyes are dark as the night outside, his lips are wet, his forehead is glistening with sweat. The sight sends a new surge of wetness from your pussy and into his palm and you feel and hear a rumble in his chest. .

Joel feels you perfectly, sees your face perfectly — the tears on your lashes from the bliss he’s giving you, your half parted lips, ready to sing for him. He doesn’t make you wait and resumes pumping his thick fingers in and out of your pussy, curling them inside you while the heel of his palm is rhythmically hitting your clit, drawing shamelessly loud moans out of you. Soon the heat boils over in your core.

“Oh, Joel… don’t stop, please,” you beg, your needy voice mixing with Joel’s breathing and the squelching of your sopping pussy.

“Never.. never,” he assures you and leans down to give you a heady kiss. He scratches your delicate skin with his beard and moustache but you don’t care — any discomfort is drowned in the ocean of pleasure, devastating your body.

Joel presses his forehead to yours, but his hand is moving tirelessly, generously filling the glass of your pleasure, until it overflows, and your pussy explodes around his fingers. Wetness sprays out of your hole, wetting Joel’s hand, the blanket under you, your quivering thighs.

“Holy shit…,” you gasp at the sight but the quickly following orgasm hits you so hard, your head falls on his shoulder and, squeezing your eyes tight, you come with a loud cry. You’re moaning and shaking against Joel, every cell in your body lights up, your mind shuts down, while Joel’s fingers are fucking into your drenched hole again and again, dragging out your unforgettable climax. The squelching would probably make you embarrassed any other day but right now it sounds like music, a serenade of your love and lust for each other.

When the burn of overstimulation licks at your core, you close your legs and Joel pulls his fingers out. He drags his soaked hand along your body, up, up, and with your hazy eyes, you see a wet path he’s drawing on your skin.

“Look at that,” Joel pants, excitement rich in his voice. “Ya never done it with me before.”

“Never done it with anyone before,” you breathe out, locking eyes with him.

“Really?” He furrows his brows, as if in disbelief, but his chest expands with pride under your back, a corner of his mouth rises.

You’ve just had the best orgasm of your life but the hunger comes back quickly when you’re with Joel. Having given yourself just a few moments of respite, you clumsily get on your knees, your limbs shaky, throw your clothes off and plop down on the blankets, tugging Joel down with you.

“Need you… imagine how.. how wet I am...”

“Oh damn, right.”

Joel’s tired, you can see it in his droopy eyes, but with the agility of a much younger man, he hurries to settle between your spread legs. He’s still panting, pulling his pants and boxers down and freeing his hard cock, but suddenly he freezes.

“What is it?” You ask, your brows pulled together. ”You ok?”

Joel’s hand holding his leaking cock, the other on your bent knee, his gaze is sliding over your glistening cunt, your sweaty body as he rasps,

“Yeah.. ‘m jus’ lookin. You’re beautiful. In this light…glowin like an angel.”

“Thank you,” you whisper with a smile, feeling a lump in your throat, tears welling up in your eyes. The fire is warming you up so well, but nothing compares to the soft heat of Joel’s love. Needing him close, you reach your arms out to him and he gets on top of you, holding himself up on an elbow, and slides his hot tip between your dripping folds.

”Oh, fuck. You’re killin me, baby.”

“Hope not,” you giggle and sneak your hand between your bodies. Your palm wraps around the base of his stiff cock and you mumble,

“Let me.” Joel nods and plants both elbows on the blanket while you notch your pussy with the head of his member.

You move your hips up, spread your thighs wider and slowly start piercing yourself with his cock. You both moan at the feeling of being united, and when Joel’s length is fully sheathed inside your cunt, his lips brush yours as he murmurs,

”So warm, baby— wanna live inside you.”

You smile against his mouth and kiss him. Like a missing puzzle piece, Joel always makes you feel complete. Thoroughly opened by his fingers, you’re taking his cock with ease, while he’s rolling his hips into you at a slow but steady pace, and you meet him halfway, desperate to make it less strenuous on his exhausted body.

Joel’s face finds place in the crook of your neck and you’re holding him close, running your fingers over his skin, through his hair, caressing him as softly as you can.

His eyes soon find yours as he rasps,

“‘s too good, baby… gonna come soon. ‘m sorry.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “Come, my love.” His eyes radiate wrinkles as he smiles at your words.

“Where, honey?”

“Inside. Please, inside.”

”Hnggg, want my hot cum?” Joel grunts, picking up the pace of his hips, ”to keep your pussy warm, too?”

“Ahhh, yeah, warm and wet for longer.”

Lust is shining in his gaze as Joel gruffs,

“Give me one more and I’ll fill you up.”

Knowing well how to make you unwind, he bends down and takes your nipple in his hot mouth. He starts sucking on it, swirling his tongue around the bud and it makes your eyes roll back into your head before a second orgasm starts shaking your body, your pussy choking Joel’s cock. He squeezes you between his strong arms and begins coming, too. His heavy balls are sticking to your ass, as he keeps thrusting into you with every rope of cum his cock pumps into your already sloppy pussy. He adds more and more and you don’t stop milking him with your clenching walls until the last drop is deep inside you.

Not pulling out, Joel moves you both on the side and you’re holding each other, your bodies tingling in the afterglow.

Your face is buried in his neck and your giggle comes out muffled.

“If you keep warming me up like this, I might survive this winter.”

“If ya come for me like this, I’m gonna do it every damn day… till the spring comes.” You feel Joel’s smile against your forehead.

“No, ‘s too much. I’ll get dehydrated,” you laugh and he chuckles with you before you say,

“After every patrol then, ‘k?”

“Ya got it.”

Joel lies on his back and you take your favorite sleeping position- your head on his shoulder, your leg bent over his thigh, Joel’s arm holding you close.

Soon you hear his slow and deep breathing- he’s asleep. You watch the fire dance for a few minutes, remembering the hard patrol, the cold tormenting your body and soul, the wonderful surprise Joel has given you, and a thought crosses your mind,

“Maybe winter isn’t that bad.”

With a happy smile on your lips you follow Joel and fall asleep, too.

moodboard by @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality 💞

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback means the world🌺

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots

People who were interested in the wip post (no pressure to read, bbs) @604to647 @arcanefox207 @sawymredfox @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal

[buckleyy]

i’ll be happy however buddie goes canon even if it’s not the right way (passionate heat of the moment almost-kiss that gets interrupted and they aren’t able to talk about it it for hours or perhaps even days and then when they finally do it’s a little awkward at first and buck starts apologizing and then eddie kisses him and then they talk about it and confess their feelings but neither of them say the l-word and they decide to start a relationship but keep it on the down low and it’s so hard for them to keep it a secret but they do anyway and they act all cute but weird around each other on shift but everybody chalks it up to typical buck and eddie weirdness and then when they realize it’s for real they decide to sit christopher down and tell him and chris is like we live together. i thought this was already a thing. and then buck and eddie are so happy because at least it’s not a secret from one person they love and they fall so easily into a rhythm of domesticity where they cook together and it’s been a few weeks and they’ve been you know intimate together before a few times but nothing big and one night they’re home alone and it gets heated quickly and they start getting freaky and theyre a little drunk and the next morning eddie wakes up to his phone ringing and he answers it without looking at it and his groggy “hello?” is met with maddie saying “who is this?” and eddie panics and realizes he got bucks phone so he jostles buck awake and hands him the phone and buck is confused and maddie is confused and eddie is hungover and maddie starts interrogating buck because she realizes it was eddie and buck stutters through some random excuses and as he’s trying to make his way through a full sentence eddie just kind of stops and looks at him really fondly and buck sees him and he slowly goes “yeah… we’re together” and maddie understandably starts freaking out but he just says he’ll talk to her later and hangs up the phone and they kiss and then later they’re at work and chimney is looking at them funny and they’re just like. so maddie told you and he’s like. no. what. told me what? no. but they just laugh and say it’s okay for him to tell people and he says “oh thank god” and runs off and they hear hen shout “WHAT?” from upstairs and then bobby calls them into his office and makes them sign paper work and then)… sorry.. i lost my train of thought. what was i talking about? something normal i hope. i am normal

[keeryhours]

teen pregnancy series - steve harrington part 1

Steve Harrington x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Teen Pregnancy Series Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

You find yourself pregnant with your best friend Nancy’s boyfriend’s baby after a drunken mistake.

Part 2

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), pregnancy, angst, sort of cheating but not really

Word Count: 11.7k

A/N:

I have worked SO HARD on this fic y’all. I really wanted to post the whole thing (27k words) but tumblr wouldn’t let me. So here we have part 1! Part 2 will be out tomorrow! I also want to give a big shoutout to my bestie @punkrockmlchael for the banner and for my friends and beta readers @glassbxttless @lesservillain @fizzing-imagines @the-witty-pen-name!

‘King’ Steve Harrington never paid any attention to you until he started dating your best friend, Nancy Wheeler. It had been a surprise when he asked her out - you, Nancy, and Barb had been quiet and stayed off to yourselves. You were a tight knit friend group, but certainly not popular. So when Steve asked Nancy out, you and Barb had been skeptical.

“Are you sure he has the best intentions?” Barb asked. “Because it’s Steve Harrington. He goes through girls like crazy.”

“Agreed,” you added. “I’m suspicious.”

“Guys, he’s actually really nice!” Nancy always defended him. “And it’s not even that serious. We just made out once…or twice.”

You and Barb exchanged a look. You didn’t really believe Steve had changed. You feared your best friend was going to get her heart broken, badly.

“What do you guys have in common anyway?” Barb asked. “He’s not, you know…exactly an honor student.”

“Barb!” Nancy scolded with a laugh. “He’s actually really sweet and funny. And a good kisser.”

You and Barb got lost in a fit of giggles at that. It was the first time any of you were having any kind of experience with a guy. The three of you were always overlooked by the guys of Hawkins High, but you didn’t really mind. There were more important things than high school relationships. It was a little exciting, though.

“So is he your boyfriend yet?” You asked, a teasing smile on your face.

“No,” Nancy said, blushing. “I don’t know if he-“

You were all surprised when Steve came seemingly out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around Nancy and making her squeal as he lifted her off the ground. It was sickeningly sweet.

“Steve!” She mock scolded him as he sat her down, and she playfully slapped his chest.

“What? I haven’t seen you in forever,” Steve said, suave grin on his handsome face.

“It’s been like 2 hours,” Nancy laughed.

“Tell me about it,” Steve said, pulling her in for a kiss. You and Barb looked away, feeling awkward.

Finally Steve acknowledged the two of you, giving you both a polite smile. “Sorry. Can I steal Nance for a few?”

Before either of you could say anything, Steve was leading a giggling Nancy away, leaving you and Barb alone. 

“I just hope she doesn’t forget about us,” Barb said.

—

“Steve wants us to go to Tina’s halloween party,” Nancy said at her locker before lunch. You and Barb exchanged a look.

“All of us?” You asked, skeptically.

“Yes, all of us,” Nancy said, attempting to reassure you both. “I wouldn’t want to go at all if you guys couldn’t come.”

“It’s not exactly…our scene,” Barb said. Her brows were furrowed as she pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “I don’t know if they really want us there, Nance.”

“Who cares?” Nancy said. “We should just go and be stupid teenagers and have fun for once.”

It took some convincing, Barb more than you, but finally you agreed to go together. You picked out a costume - a short, sexy red dress with devil horns on your head. You thought about someone maybe being interested in you at the party - you had to admit to yourself that you were a little jealous of Nancy’s relationship with Steve. It got lonely, sometimes.

Steve was picking all three of you up. Your house was the first on the way, so he picked you up first. You felt nervous as you walked down the driveway and got into the passenger seat of Steve’s car.

“Hey,” he greeted you, giving you his usual charming smile. You definitely understood what Nancy saw in him - Steve was handsome. “You look great.”

“You too,” you said, and he did. He and Nancy had gone with a couples costume - Risky Business - and he looked very good. He had a pair of sunglasses stuck in the front of his black shirt.

You mostly rode in silence on the way to the Wheeler’s house, Steve’s radio playing softly in the background. When Nancy came walking out of the house, Steve’s face lit up, and something in you sunk as you climbed out to slide into the back seat.

You felt a little better when you picked up Barb and she joined you in the back, making you feel less like an awkward third wheel. She was dressed like a librarian, which was honestly very normal for her.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived. You and Barb trailed behind Steve and Nancy into the house, following them straight to the punch bowl. Steve made a drink for all three of you. Barb took a tiny sip of hers, making a face. You tried yours, but it wasn’t too bad. Strong, though.

The party was less painful than you’d feared. You mostly stayed off to the side with Barb, drinking on your own. You watched the partygoers dance together, including Steve and Nancy, and you longed to join them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to.

At some point you lost your friends, leaving you standing in the kitchen alone. Nancy and Steve had disappeared into a bathroom, Nancy wiping at a big red punch stain on the front of her shirt. You’d watched them go, wondering what happened between them.

You continued sipping at your drink, watching the party rage on around you. The alcohol was making you less self conscious and more loose, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to join in. You wished you could. You wondered what it would like to be popular, or even to just be a normal teenage girl.

It wasn’t long before you spotted Nancy again, drunk as hell and angry.

“Where are you going?” You asked her as she drunkenly stormed through the party with Jonathan Byers and Barb trailing behind her.

“Home,” she slurred, stumbling over her own feet. You were too drunk to properly question it, simply watching as she left with Jonathan and Barb in tow. Jonathan seemed sober, at least. No one asked you if you wanted a ride, too. You figured you would ‘enjoy’ the party a little longer, figure out how you were getting home later.

You turned around and walked right into Steve Harrington.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking way more upset than the last time you’d seen him. He looked like he might have been crying, his eyes red rimmed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, looking him over with concern.

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s…it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” you said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve considered your offer. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk about Nancy right now, but getting back to the party didn’t sound like much fun either. He also didn’t really want to go home and be alone. “Sure. Okay.”

That’s how you ended up alone in a bedroom with Steve, sitting awkwardly next to each other on Tina’s parents’ bed. Steve sighed, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Me and Nancy…I don’t know,” he started, like he couldn’t find his words. “I know she’s your best friend. I’m not trying to say anything bad about her. I love her. But I think we might be over.”

“Why do you think that?” You asked softly. You knew Nancy really liked Steve. This was their first real argument, and it seems like it was a big one.

“She just…” he sighed again. “She said we’re bullshit. What does that even mean? That she doesn’t love me?”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you said. “Nancy really cares about you-“

“But does she love me?” He gestured with his hand then let it flop onto his lap in defeat. “I don’t know. I don’t think she does. I don’t know why she would.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows at him. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because I’m…” He gestured again, like he didn’t know how to articulate what he was trying to say. “I’m me. I’m an asshole. I’m dumb. I care too much about being popular. She’s too good for me.”

“Steve, that’s not true,” you said, laying your hand over his. “You’re an incredible person. I mean, sure you have a reputation, but since you’ve dated Nancy I’ve gotten to see some of the real you, and…I like the real Steve.”

He slowly looked up at you. “You do?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” You smiled gently. “I like the real Steve a lot.”

Steve’s eyes searched yours. His gaze darted down to your lips for only a second before meeting your eyes again. Then he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

You were shocked at first, your eyes going wide. But you quickly melted into his kiss - it felt so right. Steve moaned against your lips as he deepened the kiss and you grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him closer to you. The kiss turned heated fast, Steve’s tongue slipping into your mouth and pressing against your own. Your tongues danced together in a sloppy rhythm, your kisses hungry and desperate for one another.

His hands trailed under your dress, feeling the smooth skin of your plush thighs, one hand sliding between your legs to tease you through your panties. You gasped - you’d never been touched there before. It was new, exciting. You were wet already, and Steve could feel it.

“Wet for me?” He mumbled against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip and making you gasp. “I can feel you.”

You blushed deeply, feeling ashamed. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was gross?

He didn’t seem like he thought it was gross. He seemed like he liked it. He pressed against something that had you moaning against his mouth, your grip on his shirt tightening. 

“Have you ever been touched before?” He asked, hand slipping beneath your panties. His fingers traced between your folds, collecting your wetness on his fingers before he started rubbing against that bundle of nerves again.

“No,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “Never.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You didn’t know that. No guy had ever said that to you before. You thankfully didn’t have to say anything because Steve pressed his lips to yours again, kissing any words away. It felt weird to have his tongue pressing against your own, the way his hands grabbed at you, like he wanted you.

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, pulling at your red dress. You heart thundered in your chest, wondering what was going to happen, if you were really about to lose your virginity to Steve Harrington. Who was your best friend’s boyfriend - or, used to be.

You nodded, and Steve smiled, pushing you back onto the bed. He climbed over you, slowly kissing from your legs upwards as he pushed the dress higher and higher. You were shaking, nervous even through the haze of the alcohol. But his touch was so nice, it felt so good, you wanted to keep going.

He pushed the dress over your head until you were left in nothing but your bra and panties, suddenly horrifically self conscious. You crossed your arms over your body on instinct.

Steve gently grabbed your arms, moving them down. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “You don’t have to hide from me. I love your body.”

He sat up then, removing his shirt. His chest was muscular, and he had a lot of chest hair. It was hot, manly. You rubbed over his chest, feeling the ridges of his muscles, the skin beneath your touch. He shivered on instinct, a low moan coming from his lips.

You could feel how hard he was from where he was pressed against your thigh. He grinded against you, moaning, and you felt scared - he seemed big. You didn’t know how you were going to take him - you’d never taken anybody before, and Steve seemed like an advanced place to start.

He reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, removing it completely. His lips found your nipple right away and you let out a mix between a gasp and a moan - it was unexpected and new, but it felt good. Steve sucked on it, running his tongue around it, making you arch your back into his mouth. His hand played with your other nipple until he switched, giving them both attention.

When he was done, he kissed down your chest and stomach, back down to your panties. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, looking up at you. “Can I?”

You looked at him. “Can you what?”

Steve chuckled. “Taste you?”

You didn’t really know what he meant by that. “Um, sure?”

Steve smiled at you, then he pulled your panties down your legs. You felt infinitely more exposed now - no one had ever seen you there before. There were a lot of firsts tonight. Steve spread your legs, and you would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t groaned at the sight.

He lowered himself between your legs, and you gasped loudly when you felt Steve’s tongue between your folds. He groaned again as he began to devour you, sucking at your clit and running his tongue over it.

The feeling was like nothing you’d ever experienced in your life. You moaned uncontrollably, hands shooting down to tangle in Steve’s hair. He moaned against your pussy as he ate you, loving every moment of it.

Steve was grinding his hips against the bed, his cock rock hard and aching beneath his pants. He lapped up every bit of wetness you gave him, you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. 

“Christ,” he moaned against you, truly burying his face into you and breathing in your scent. “You taste so good. I can’t get enough.”

You were losing your mind. Pitchy moans spilling from your lips, body writhing on the bed. Whatever he was doing was incredible, it made your body feel like it was full of electricity, a coil tightening deep in your belly.

“Steve…Steve…” you moaned, pulling on his locks. You started grinding yourself against his face, desperate for more more more, desperate for him to never stop. You thought you might die if he did.

You felt something pressing against your entrance, making you jump. “What…what are you…?”

“Jus’ getting you ready,” he hummed against you. “‘s okay?”

You were too out of it to think much about it. “Um…yes.”

You gasped loudly at the intrusion of his finger pressing inside you. You’d never even done this to yourself before, the feeling completely foreign. Weird, but good. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, you were so wet there was hardly any resistance.

You were so lost in the pleasure he was giving you that you barely noticed when he began pushing a second finger inside. But suddenly you were even more full, his fingers curling deep inside you and pressing against something that had you moaning his name even louder.

“Steve! Oh, fuck-“

“That’s it,” he moaned against you, “just like that. You gonna cum for me?”

You whined in response, shaking hand tightening in his hair. He chuckled, moving back to suck on your clit again and sending you reeling. He pumped his fingers faster and faster, your back arching off the bed as your vision began going white.

“Oh, god- fuck! Steve, ohmygod, holy shit-“

Steve put his all into it as your orgasm hit you, working you through the most mind blowing experience of your life. How was he so good? You felt like you’d died and gone to heaven.

“That’s it, baby, cum f’me,” he encouraged you, but as the orgasm intensified you began grinding against his tongue, shutting him up happily. He moaned against you, sending vibrations through your clit.

He rode you through it until you couldn’t take it anymore, until you were pushing him away and he was grinning with the confidence only King Steve could possess. You suddenly understood the nickname.

He kissed up your body, working his way back up to your lips. He quickly undid his pants, shoving them and his boxers down his legs. You were right - he was huge. He wrapped a hand around his massive cock, slowly stroking it as he looked down at your body.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he slurred, and he wobbled a bit as he sat up on his knees. The room felt like it was tilting back and forth, like you were on a boat. It was not helping the nausea building in your stomach.

Steve spread your legs, settling himself between them. He grinded his cock through your folds, coating it in your wetness as he nipped and sucked at your neck. “Y’ready?”

“Uh…yeah,” you said, holding onto Steve’s shoulders. It made you feel safer somehow.

His thick tip pressed against your entrance, and you let out a loud gasp as he pushed through, stretching you around his cock. Your nails dug into his back, making him hiss as he slowly pushed deeper inside.

“Fuck. You are so tight.” His breath was coming out in huffs of hot air against the skin of your neck, quiet moans beginning to spill from his lips as he bullied his cock further into you. “Shit. You can take it. I know y’can take it. Just let me in, baby.”

You tried your best to relax your muscles, trying to just lose yourself to the feeling and let Steve have you. It was starting to feel good, the deeper he filled you the more full you felt. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt.

Steve moaned loudly into your neck once he bottomed out, pumping into you shallowly a few times before he pulled farther back, slapping his hips into you. You let out a mix between a gasp and a moan, your eyes squeezing shut.

“You okay?” he asked, but it was obvious in his expression that he was desperate to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you said. “You can keep going.”

Steve smiled down at you before pressing his lips to yours again and setting a quick pace fucking into you. The sounds of your skin meeting and the bed - Tina’s parents’ bed - creaking from Steve’s movements filled the large bedroom. You worried people would be able to hear you from the hall.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Steve praised, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. “So good f’me. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

You whined in response, brain complete mush as Steve fucked you and the room spun around. You closed your eyes, hoping to calm the situation.

Steve pushed your legs up higher, pressing your thighs into your body and spreading your legs wide. This allowed him to get way deeper than before, and now he was letting out desperate moans, losing himself in the pleasure of you.

“Shit…I’m gonna cum,” he said as his thrusts became sloppy and fast, his cheeks, neck, and chest flushing red. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, are you gonna take it, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, not even processing the question. There were no thoughts of condoms, no thoughts of pulling out even. Neither of you thinking, Steve neared his release inside you, holding onto you tightly.

“Take it, take it,” he cried out, biting down on your neck as he let out one last guttural groan, spilling his cum into you, every last drop as he rode out his high. You held onto him, feeling all of him.

Steve’s chest was heaving with his breaths as he pushed up on his arms, placing a kiss to your lips before he pulled out, collapsing on his back. You didn’t know what to say. You just laid there for a few minutes until Steve eventually rolled over to the side of the bed, standing and pulling his clothes back on. He tossed you your dress and you used it to cover your body, suddenly feeling self conscious.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” he said as he slipped his shoes back on. “It’s been a long night.”

—

The next Monday, Steve and Nancy walked into school hand in hand. Your heart stopped in your chest at the sight, guilt eating you from the inside out. You tried not to get sick over it as you went through your day, until you got to talk to Nancy and Barb at your lockers.

“He came to my house with flowers,” Nancy said, smiling. “He said he was sorry and he didn’t want to be without me.”

“Aww!” Barb said, hand over her heart. “That’s so cute. He really cares about you.”

“Yeah,” was all you could add, because you knew you were the worst friend on the planet.

You were even more surprised later that day when someone grabbed your arm on the way to lunch. You turned to see Steve, looking at you seriously. “Can we talk?”

You hadn’t seen Steve since he’d been inside of you, you know, taking your virginity, a couple days ago, and that was the only thing going through your mind at that moment. “Um, yeah, sure.”

Steve led you down the hall and into the library, opening the door for you to one of the study rooms. You followed him inside and he shut the door, turning to you with an expression that told you how stressed out he was.

“Look,” he said, “about Tina’s party - what we did - I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that. I…really care about Nancy, and I don’t want to hurt her. I want to be with her.”

You just listened to him speak, his words only intensifying the ache in your chest. You knew it was coming, but it still hurt. You didn’t say anything, waiting for Steve to continue.

“I just don’t want this to get out,” he said slowly. “So…is it okay if we keep this between us? Never to repeat or be talked about?” He looked at you hopefully, praying you would keep the secret.

“Oh,” you said. “Sure. I won’t tell.”

“Awesome,” Steve said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “You know, it would just hurt Nance if she knew. And it’s never going to happen again, so there’s no point in her knowing, right?”

You weren’t sure you truly agreed, but you nodded along anyway. “Okay.”

“Good.” Steve smiled softly at you. His large hand rubbed your upper arm. “Thanks for understanding.”

The rest of the school day was extremely awkward - at least for you. Nancy and Barb were totally oblivious to what you’d done, and Steve was acting like he barely knew you.

You wondered if this was something he’d done before - taking girls’ virginity’s and then acting like it never happened, leaving them behind. When you slept together, you hadn’t exactly thought you and Steve would be together after (well, you were drunk so you weren’t thinking much at all), but you didn’t think he’d just go back to Nancy like nothing happened.

Something about it stung.

And they stayed together. This wasn’t the fling you had originally warned Nancy it might be. They seemed really into each other, which was really unfortunate for you, because you realized something that left you horrified.

You had developed feelings for Steve Harrington.

You always thought it was bullshit when they said in church as a kid that every time you have sex with someone you give a piece of yourself away, but you had truly given Steve a piece of yourself you couldn’t get back. But he hadn’t done the same for you.

Maybe it was different for guys? Or maybe you were just an idiot who fell for her best friend’s boyfriend after having sex with him.

It was hard to look Nancy or even Barb in the eye at all. Steve may have been able to forget what you did, but you couldn’t. You had betrayed your lifelong best friend. How were you supposed to keep this to yourself? You didn’t deserve their friendship.

Of course Nancy noticed your extreme self loathing - she was always perceptive. Steve’s just lucky he was better at lying than you.

“Are you okay?” She asked you after school one day while you and Barb were studying in her bedroom. “You seem upset lately.”

Oh, god. It was going to come out. You were going to blow it.

“I’ve just been kinda sad,” you said. “Just…stressed with college applications coming up.”

“Oh yeah, me too,” Barb said, a weary sigh coming from deep in her chest. “I’m worried I don’t have the grades. I want to go to Emerson with you guys, but I don’t have an extra curricular either.”

You were grateful as the conversation easily transitioned into college applications and the upcoming test in Mrs. O’Donnells. Your brain was elsewhere.

Not only were you consumed with guilt, but also the memory of Steve all over you, his hands, his mouth, his cock-

“Are we still having our movie night this weekend?” Barb asked a bit later as you were all preparing to leave.

“Oh,” Nancy said sheepishly, a blush rising to her pale cheeks. “Actually, Steve planned a surprise date this weekend. I’m not sure what we’re doing, but…” she giggled. “I don’t know. He might want to do more.”

Your head snapped up then. “You guys haven’t had sex yet?”

Nancy blushed even deeper. “No. I’ve been nervous. I want it to be with the right person at the right time. But I think we might this weekend.”

You felt sick. Not only had Steve slept with you before Nancy - your best friends couldn’t even know you’d lost your virginity - but now he was probably going to actually have sex with her. You wanted to say something, to stop it, but what could you say?

Nothing.

So you watched Nancy gushing about Steve and pretended it wasn’t killing you inside, pretending like you didn’t have feelings for him and never had. You were pretty good at pretending, after all.

—

It had been two months since the hookup when you started getting sick. You assumed it was a stomach bug at first, to the point that you let your mom take you to the doctor - only to get the biggest news of your life.

“You’re pregnant,” the doctor said, and you were suddenly grateful you’d told your mom you didn’t need her to go back with you.

The news had sent you reeling. There in the doctor’s office, your head spun, your vision dotting like you might pass out. Because this could not be happening. There was only one potential father, and he couldn’t be, he was with Nancy, you couldn’t do this-

The doctor gave you pamphlets on your different options, which you hastily stuffed into your bag. You weren’t ready to tell your parents about this yet. When you walked out of the office and your mom asked what the doctor said, all you could say was “Nothing, just a virus.”

“Did they give you any medicine?”

Yeah, a prescription for prenatal vitamins. “No, mom.”

Your mom looked worried. “Maybe we should go somewhere for a second opinion, you’ve been so sick it’s not normal-“

“Mom, I’m really fine,” you attempted to assure her. Please, you were not ready to come out with this yet. To anyone.

“I’m just worried,” she said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t want you to be sick.”

“I promise I’m okay.” You gave her the most encouraging smile you could muster. “I’m feeling better today already.”

That was not true. You were getting sicker by the day, the “morning sickness” (more like all day sickness) kicking your ass. You knew this was your fault, but you still found yourself mad at Steve. Both of you had drunkenly agreed to sex without a condom, so it wasn’t really fair to put the blame on him, but when you were on your knees in front of the toilet for the 15th time that day, you didn’t care much about fair.

You were utterly panicked over the idea of being pregnant. What did this mean for your future? College? Falling in love one day? What guy your age wants to settle down with a step kid?

You considered abortion, but ultimately decided not to. Adoption was also considered, but you figured this was your baby, and you wanted to keep it. You felt bonded to it. Like whatever came, you were in this together.

What about Steve? How would he feel about this? Not good, you could imagine. He was still going strong with Nancy, and- 

Oh god, Nancy.

She would never forgive you. Your friendship was over. You ruined everything. Barb would probably hate you, too. You would be friendless, boyfriendless, and pregnant.

Great. Good decisions, you thought to yourself.

You kept the news to yourself for weeks. You couldn’t bear to tell a single soul. Who could you tell? No one would be happy for you. Every person you had to tell would end in disaster.

It was weird, seeing Steve with Nancy, happy and like you never even existed, while you carried his child. You felt an internal longing towards him, like maybe the baby knew who their father was. Which was crazy, because it was still only cells working to become a human being.

You had your first ultrasound before you told anyone. You borrowed the car and drove yourself, stomach in knots as you waited in the waiting room. The ultrasound itself was uncomfortable - you always thought of them like they were in the movies, the little wand on your belly, but they explained that this early they usually do an internal ultrasound, which is just as unpleasant as it sounds.

You watched as the image showed up on the screen. The tiny little vaguely human shaped blob, wiggling around in there - inside of you. Alive. The tech took measurements, and you even heard the heartbeat. It took your breath away. You wondered what Steve would think if he knew, if he’d been there to experience it.

The tech said you were 9 weeks pregnant, due in July, which lined up perfectly with Halloween night. Not that there were any other possibilities. She printed you a bunch of photos, showing the tiny baby from multiple different angles.

As you left with the photos clutched in your hand, you wondered how long you had before you were forced to come clean about this. Not long, you figured. Would it be better to just come out and say it now?

No. You weren’t doing that. You were not ready for that.

Going to school with this secret held deep inside was a lot already. It felt like everyone who saw you knew, even though that was impossible. Like it was written on your forehead.

Having to face Nancy and Barb was even worse. They treated you just like normal, like their best friend, meanwhile you were hiding the biggest secret possible beneath your sweater.

Seeing Nancy with Steve was even worse. They were so happy together. You knew they had to be sleeping together by now. You were nothing but a distant memory, a cheap hookup, another one of King Steve’s conquests.

Except that wasn’t true. The baby growing in your belly proved that. This was one hookup he’d never forget.

—

When you were 13 weeks pregnant, you noticed the smallest bump in the mirror. It took your breath away as your hand rubbed over it, the firm mound of your stomach seemingly popped overnight. This was bad. This meant you were out of time.

You dressed in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, which was not your usual style whatsoever. Nancy and Barb immediately noticed something was up when you met them at your lockers.

“Are you sick?” Nancy asked, reaching for your forehead with the back of her hand like your mom.

“A little,” you admitted. “I’m just not feeling great.”

Nancy looked at you sympathetically. “Maybe you should go home. I can bring you some soup after school.”

You shook your head - “I can’t. I’ve already missed too much school.” Between the days you’d missed with your morning sickness and the days you’d have to miss for appointments, it was woefully true.

Nancy still looked concerned. “I’m just worried about you. You look rough. I don’t want you being sick at school-“

She was cut off with a squeal as Steve came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He whispered something in her ear that had her giggling before he turned to you. His brows furrowed like he was thinking something, but he didn’t say anything to 

you.

“Ready to get to class?” he asked Nancy. He’d taken to walking her to every single one of her classes. It would have been sweet if not for your current situation.

“Oh, sure,” Nancy said, closing her locker. She turned to you. “You’ll let me know if you feel any worse, right?”

The guilt ate at you. Yeah, Nancy, thanks for caring about me, I’m just sick because I’m carrying your boyfriend’s baby. “Yeah, I will.”

Steve gave you another lingering look before he walked off with Nancy, arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It was later that day when you caught Steve alone. You approached him quickly, taking your chance before you could talk yourself out of it. “Steve. Can I talk to you?”

There was a certain dread on his face that almost made you wonder if he already knew what you were going to say. “Um. Yeah, I guess.”

You found yourselves back in the library study pod you’d had your first conversation in, which felt…poetic. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, fidgeting and uncomfortable as he leaned against the study table. his gaze darted around, like he didn’t want to meet your eyes.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked. He was ready to get this over with, whatever it was.

“I…” you thought for a moment about what the best way to break the news would be. You realized you probably should have planned your words, that would have made this a hell of a lot easier.

Steve looked at you expectantly. He didn’t want to say get on with it, but at the same time…. “What is it?”

You fiddled with your bag strap, feeling sick to your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

Steve just looked at you like he didn’t even hear you. He just blinked. Then, finally, a grin spread across his face, which had you confused.

“Ha, ha. Good one,” he said, bowing his head as if he respected the joke. “You had me scared for a minute there.”

“Steve, I…” you tightened your grip on the strap of your bag, wishing you were anywhere but in your current situation. “I’m not joking. I’m being serious.”

His smile dropped immediately. He started sweating, feeling like his shirt was too tight and he couldn’t breathe. His head was spinning. He leaned on the table for support. “No. You’re not.”

“I am,” you said, frustrated at the way Steve seemed to be choosing to not understand or believe you. “I’m pregnant, Steve. For real.”

He shook his head. “No. No way. It’s not mine.”

You jerked back as if you’d been slapped. “What do you mean it’s not yours?”

“It’s not…there’s n-no way it’s mine,” he said, his voice shaking as he stuttered over his words. He scrambled desperately in his own brain for any way out of this, anything that would disprove his involvement in all of this, but he came up with nothing.

“Steve, you’re the only person I’ve ever had sex with and you know that,” you hissed at him through gritted teeth, having gone from scared to pissed off that Steve really had the nerve to deny this baby.

“I don’t know, maybe you hooked up with someone after me. I wouldn’t know. And then you come telling me it’s mine because my family has money? Well-“

“Are you serious?” You raised your voice slightly, making Steve look around in a panic as he tried to shush you. “You know it’s yours. And you’re really accusing me of wanting your money? I don’t give a fuck about your money. I just thought you deserved to know you’re gonna be a dad.”

Steve paled. “I-I…there’s no way, there’s-“

“I know this is a lot to take in,” you said. “Believe me. I know.”

“Can you prove- can you prove it?” he asked, but it was obvious he was just scared, grasping at anything that would make this go away, anything that would make this not real.

You lifted your sweatshirt. The bump was obvious, perfectly round, and not at all in a ‘maybe you just gained some weight’ kind of way. Steve somehow went even more pale, and you suddenly worried he might pass out. 

“Shit,” he hissed. “I- what- how far are you? How long have you known?”

“I found out a month ago. I’m 13 weeks.” You fished the ultrasound photos out of your bag, handing them over to Steve. His hands were shaking terribly as he took them from you, looking over the distinctly baby shaped blob growing inside of you, and sure enough your name was printed at the top.

“How…how many weeks are there? In a pregnancy?” Steve asked, feeling like a total idiot.

You didn’t treat him like one. “40.”

Steve let out a rush of air. “Okay. There’s time. Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the style that probably took him an hour this morning. “What…do you want to do? About the baby?”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like, do I want to keep it?”

“Well…yeah,” he said. “Do you?”

“It’s too late for an abortion,” you said. “But…I had decided I wanted to keep it. Him or her. I couldn’t…I don’t think I could carry a baby and give them up.”

Steve nodded slowly. It wasn’t what he was hoping to hear, but what he expected to hear. He understood, in a way. He didn’t love the idea of an abortion or adoption either. “Okay. Um. What happens now?”

You didn’t know either, to be honest. “Well, um…do you want to be…are you going to be involved?”

“With…the baby?”

“Yes, Steve.”

He looked around, took a deep breath. “Well, like. It is my kid, right? So…I’m not going to abandon it. Or you. I’m not…I’m not like that, I swear. I own up to my shit.”

“You just tried to tell me I was lying about it being yours for your money-“

“Okay,” Steve said, holding a hand up, “I get it. I’m sorry. I just panicked, okay? This isn’t exactly great news right now.”

“What about Nancy?”

Those words were like a bomb dropped in the tiny room. No one said anything - it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out, like a vacuum. No one knew the answer to that question. What about Nancy?

“She’s going to kill me,” Steve finally said, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck. She’s going to break up with me for good.” He began rambling, his internal monologue spilling from his mouth without filter. “And what about my love life? No girl is going to want to go out with me with a kid on the way. No girl is going to want to go out with a dad at our age. And my parents? Jesus, what a fucking disaster-“

“Steve,” you said, cutting off his frantic rambling. “Calm down.”

He nodded, taking a few deep breaths. You’d never seen him so worked up. “Yeah. Okay.”

“We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?” you said, wondering how you ended up being the one comforting him. “We have time. There is a rush, but we have like 6 months. We…look, Steve, we’re gonna be okay, I think.”

He sniffled, and you wondered if he’d started crying. “Have you told your parents?”

Silence. “No.”

Steve nodded again. He ran both his hands through his hair this time, a nervous laugh spilling unprompted from his lips. “Oh, fuck. We are fucked.”

The bell rang, signaling the start of the next class you were now officially late for. You subconsciously rubbed a hand over your belly, adjusting your sweatshirt and high waisted leggings back to cover it as well as you could. Steve watched you, his eyes locked on the bump the entire time.

“Can I…feel it?”

The question caught you so off guard, you thought you might have imagined it. “What?”

“The…your stomach?” He felt so awkward. “Can I touch it?”

You blinked at him. The question was so out of nowhere, the last thing you expected him to say. “Oh…sure?”

You lifted your sweatshirt again and pushed down the waist of your leggings, exposing the skin again. Steve walked towards you hesitantly, extending his hand. Finally he reached you and placed his hand on your stomach. 

His hand was so big, the entirety of the bump fit beneath his palm. It felt weird to have him (or anyone) touching you like this. Steve had a look of awe on his face, his thumb caressing the firm skin. It was a tender moment, one you didn’t expect.

“It’s really real, huh?” Steve said quietly, almost to himself. “There’s really a baby in there? …My baby?”

You smiled gently. “Yeah. There is.”

Steve stayed there for a minute longer, just feeling. When he finally pulled away he didn’t say anything, just lowered his hand and watched as you readjusted your clothes. Just watching you.

“I guess we better get back to class,” you said. “We’re late.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Steve laughed humorlessly again. “But I don’t think it matters much anymore. College is out the window.”

You hadn’t even thought about that. That made you feel sick, the idea of throwing away all the hard work you’d put in throughout your years in high school. Watching Nancy and Barb go on to Emerson without you. Not that they’d want you to come with them, anyway. They were going to hate you soon enough.

God, Nancy and Barb. How were you supposed to tell them? Hey, Nancy, I have some news - I’m having your boyfriend’s baby. You felt the panic rising in your own chest now, for about the millionth time since you’d found out. Steve stepped forward, a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, “it’s okay. Calm down, it’s…it’s not good for the baby. We’re gonna figure this out.”

His words surprised you, the way the tables had turned. He took deep breaths with you as you calmed yourself. “I just don’t know what we’re gonna do. I don’t even know where to go next. I’m-“

Steve said your name, grounding you to the moment. He pushed your hair behind your ear, eyes roaming over your face. He wondered if you had been this beautiful all along, or if you being pregnant with his child made you even more luminous.

“It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna take care of you. Both of you. Okay?”

You just nodded, stray tears escaping down your cheeks. “Okay.”

You had to trust him.

—

It was gym class that fucked you over in the end.

You had managed to get out of class since you’d started showing, with excuses about your period and headaches and stomach aches. But eventually your gym teacher got tired of it.

“You’re changing into your uniform and you’re running with us today,” she said. “No excuses.”

So you changed in the bathroom stall, which was already strange enough. You waited until the rest of the girls had left the locker room, including Nancy and Barb, before you walked out and stood in front of the mirror.

Oh, god.

It was worse than you thought. The bump was clear as day below your shirt, perfectly round beneath the soft thin material. You looked at your reflection in horror, smoothing your hand over it, wondering if there was anything you could do to hide this. But when your gym teacher yelled through the door for you to hurry up, you realized you were out of time.

It was coming out. Now.

You walked out of the locker room with your arms crossed over your stomach. You had never felt more exposed in your life. The girls were all sitting on the basketball court stretching, laughing and giggling with each other. You approached Nancy and Barb and slid to the ground next to them.

“Are you cold?” Nancy asked, immediately giving you a strange look. “Because I have a sweatshirt in my locker you can-“

You were about to take her up on that kind offer when the teacher blew her whistle, calling everyone to line up. You joined the rest of the class, and she gave you a look. She called your name - “Arms down. What are you doing?”

You felt like you were on stage with a spotlight directly on you. Every girl in your class was looking at you, wondering what the hell you were doing. You had no choice. You lowered your arms, and there was a collective gasp.

“Holy…shit…” Tina said, not even attempting to hide her laughter.

Nancy said your name softly, and you turned to face her and Barb. “What…” Nancy said, looking at you wide eyed and shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “What did you do?”

It was fight or flight, and your brain decided for you. You turned and sprinted back into the locker room, tears falling immediately. You were sobbing by the time the locker room door slammed shut behind you, but it opened again seconds later.

Nancy called your name again as she and Barb hurried to your side, wrapping their arms around you. You wanted to push them away. You didn’t deserve their comfort.

“How did this…” Nancy began, but she was at a loss for words. “Who…when did you…”

“I’m 14 weeks,” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes. “It was…Halloween.”

Nancy gasped. Her and Barb exchanged a look. “Why didn’t you tell us? Who was it? Does he know?”

Your hands were clenched into tight fists. “Yeah, he knows.”

“Who’s the father?” Barb asked again, since you hadn’t answered Nancy either time she had said it.

What could you do? It was time for the truth to come out, ready or not.

“It’s…” you drew in a gasping breath, choking on your own sobs. “It’s Steve’s.”

The room went silent besides the sound of your crying. No one moved. No one dared to move. It was like the calm before the storm, the peace moments before the tornado rips the roof off the house.

“Steve?” Nancy said finally, looking at you like you were dumb and had said something completely outlandish. “Steve…Harrington? My Steve?”

Her Steve.

“Yes,” was all you could say, your voice barely a whisper. “It was…Nancy, I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. It was at Tina’s stupid party, after you and Steve had that fight, we were talking and- just- one thing led to another, and-“

Nancy held her hand up, stopping you. Barb just looked between the two of you, her expression one of absolute shock. Nancy’s normally calm face had been replaced by a mask of pure fury, rage and disappointment and hurt. Betrayal.

“You…you slut!” Nancy spat, and she might as well have slapped you in the face. You recoiled, jerking back as if she had truly struck you.

“Nancy, I-“

“I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say,” she said, standing to her feet. Barb looked between the two of you before she stood, too. Her side chosen.

“I can’t believe you,” Nancy said. “You were really that jealous? You couldn’t stand the thought of me having a boyfriend - of me being with King Steve Harrington - so you had to jump in the middle, huh? Take him for yourself?”

“Nance, that is not it, we were both so drunk-“

“But you knew it happened,” she said. “You knew it happened, and you both made a fool of me. Pretending like you hadn’t…fucked each other, like everything was fine between us, like you weren’t keeping the hugest secret in the world.” She shook her head. “You know what? You two deserve each other.”

She turned them, leaving the locker room and going back to class with Barb following behind her. You stayed there on the floor, alone. You pulled your knees to your chest as close as you could and sobbed, burying your face in your arms.

You cried, and cried, and cried. But you had no right to feel like this. No right to be hurt. You were the one who fucked up. You really betrayed your best friend.

You were the scum of the earth.

Lunch was right after gym, and you didn’t know what to expect. You knew you weren’t going to be happily sitting at your table with Nancy, Barb, and Steve. But on your way to the cafeteria, in the deserted hall, you caught Nancy talking to Steve.

“Do you have something to say to me?” she asked him, her face just as angry as the last time you’d seen her.

“What?” Steve asked with an awkward chuckle. “Babe, I have no idea what you’re talking about-“

“Don’t call me babe,” she snapped, making his eyes go wide. “There’s nothing you think you should tell me?”

He noticed you then, standing off to the side. His wide eyes landed on you, then dropped down to your stomach. He looked back at Nancy. “Oh, fuck, Nance, listen-“

“No, you listen, Steve Harrington.” Nancy pointed a finger in his face, her own twisted in pure fury. “No one treats me like a fool. You think you can go around, fucking whoever you want, being as reckless as you want, then come to me with flowers and lies and act like nothing happened? Like you didn’t fuck my best friend?” Her voice broke at the end of her sentence, and your heart felt crushed in your chest. You realized the gravity of your fuck up - the cherished lifelong friendship you’d lost.

“Nance-“

“Don’t.” She looked up, trying to stop the tears threatening to fall. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever excuse you have for me, I don’t care. I don’t care that you were drunk. What you did is beyond forgiveness.” She turned and met your eyes again. “For both of you.” When she looked back at Steve, there was resolve in her eyes. “We’re over.”

Steve watched, dumbfounded, as Nancy turned and stomped towards the cafeteria. He felt helpless as he watched her go - the potential love of his life, at least that’s how it felt - over one, stupid, massive mistake. He turned around and punched the locker with a loud “Fuck!”, leaving a large dent in the grey metal.

You approached him cautiously, not sure what you should do, if anything. He turned to you with tears welling in his brown eyes. He looked devastated. You felt guilty about that, too.

“Steve, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Not now.”

You watched helplessly as Steve stormed off, leaving you alone in the hallway. You really were alone. Completely.

—

You had pretty much resigned yourself to the fact that your life was over. No friends, no boyfriend, the father of the baby possibly not involved. You didn’t know if you could trust Steve to stick around like he said, especially with the way he had left you earlier.

After school, you had to call your mom to come pick you up. You made up a lie about Nancy having a doctor’s appointment, and your mom told you she’d be there after work.

With time to kill, you ended up in one of the study pods again. You flipped through your physics textbook, no homework to be done. You had nearly fallen asleep when the sound of someone walking in startled you.

You looked up to see Steve, giving you a sheepish look as he settled into the small space. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey?” you said back, cautious of whatever he had come to say. With the way things were going for you, it couldn’t possibly be good.

“I just…” he sighed. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, about earlier. I shouldn’t have stormed off and left you like that.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry about…Nancy.”

“It’s not your fault. Well, not any more your fault than it is mine.” He huffed a short laugh. “We both knew this was coming, though, didn’t we?”

You supposed you did. It didn’t make it any easier.

“She was my best friend since kindergarten,” is all you could offer. Then, like a dam breaking, you burst into tears. You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed, wishing you could undo everything.

“Hey, hey,” Steve said gently, wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you into a tight hug, his large hand rubbing your back soothingly. It helped, surprisingly. You knew you were soaking his polo shirt. “You’re okay. Breathe for me, alright? You’re okay.”

You tried to breathe slowly, following the slow up and down of Steve’s chest. Eventually you were breathing with him again, slow and steady. “Good,” Steve said, and even the rumble of his voice through his chest was soothing. “Can’t have my baby mama freaking out on me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Steve was good at getting you to smile when it felt like you never would again, that was for sure. He put his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back slightly to look at you. His face was etched with worry as he took in your puffy bloodshot eyes. “I mean it, you know. It is going to be okay.”

“What about Nancy?” you asked, lip wobbling as you thought of your former best friend again.

“Nancy…” Steve sighed. “I hope she’ll come around. You know, things won’t be the same, but…”

But she might not hate your guts, you finished the thought in your own head.

“You’re not upset that she just broke up with you?” you asked.

“Of course I am,” he said, letting out a sigh. “But you’re my main concern.”

“Me?” You were taken aback. “Why me?”

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh. “Really?” He placed a hand on the bump, an affectionate gesture. “That’s my little nugget in there.”

Something about the way he said it sent heat to your cheeks. It was the most affection you’d received from him since you told him. And it was…nice. You hadn’t had anyone to be excited about this with you, to talk about the future and baby names and whether it would be a boy or a girl. You wouldn’t have any friends jumping to throw you a baby shower or anything, but maybe Steve could be that support for you.

“Yeah,” you said simply. “It is.”

Steve smiled softly at you. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to either of you. I hope you know that. You have my word, and I don’t go back on my word. I was a boy scout.” He held up a salute. “Scout’s honor.”

You laughed. It was incredible to be feeling lighter than you had in months. Steve had that effect on you, somehow.

“I may not know how to be a dad,” he said, “but I guarantee I’m going to be the best one.”

—

Steve kept his word. He stuck by your side. It didn’t take long for the news to spread around the entire school - not just that you were pregnant, but that it was Steve’s, and that he and Nancy had broken up.

Nancy was still furious. You hated that you had dragged her into this with you, that the whole school was laughing at her for being so clueless. It wasn’t her fault and she didn’t deserve that.

Steve didn’t let anyone say anything to you. The first time Tommy tried to give you shit, Steve punched him in the face. Somehow, they were still friends.

Steve walked you to every class, carrying your books for you and not letting you lift a finger. You sat with him at lunch, ignoring the dirty looks from Carol. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to be friends with her. That was okay with you.

He started picking you up for school and bringing you home. Usually your parents weren’t home in time to see him, but on this particular day, 16 weeks into the pregnancy, they were.

“Maybe you should come inside,” you said, looking at Steve with your brows furrowed, worry etched in the lines formed on your face. “Meet my parents. Maybe…maybe we should tell them.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Look, parents usually love me, but I’ve never had to tell some I got their daughter pregnant.”

You laughed lightly. “Yeah, well…I figure we have to.”

You climbed out of the car, pulling your sweatshirt back on. Steve followed, placing a hand on your back as you both walked up the sidewalk to the front door. When you entered the house, the smell of pasta greeted you instantly. Your mom was in the kitchen and your dad was sitting in his recliner, watching TV.

“Hi, honey,” your mom greeted you without looking up as you walked in. When she finally did look up, she let out a little “Oh!”! at the sight of Steve. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we’d be having company tonight.”

Your dad looked over, suddenly interested. He eyed Steve, like he was thinking or he knew him from somewhere. “Mom, Dad, this is Steve,” you said, hands in the pockets of your sweatshirt. You could feel the bump beneath your hands,

“Hi. Steve Harrington,” he said in his usual charming way, moving to shake your mom’s hand first and then your dad’s.

“Harrington?” your dad asked, eyebrows raised. “Are you related to Richard Harrington?”

“That’s my dad,” Steve said, his cheeks turning red. You wondered what Steve’s relationship with his dad was like.

“I work for your dad,” he said. “Have since before you were born.”

“Oh,” Steve said awkwardly. You cringed - that was going to make this whole situation even more uncomfortable.

“So what’s the occasion?” your mom asked with a smile as she put the lid back on the pot. You hated that you were about to ruin their good mood.

“Um…Mom, Dad, I have something I need to talk to you about.” You gestured between you and Steve. “Something we need to talk to you about.”

Your mom was instantly concerned, your dad suspicious. “What about?” she asked.

“You might want to sit down.”

That made their worry even worse. Your dad turned the TV off as you and Steve took a seat on the couch, your mom coming in to sit on her chair. “Okay…” she said, “should I be scared?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. Your dad reached over and grabbed her hand. You looked at Steve, who gave you a soft reassuring smile before grabbing your hand. He squeezed it, and you squeezed his back. You took a deep breath and looked back at your parents. The guilt ate at you. “I’m pregnant.”

There was only silence. Your mom covered her mouth with her free hand, tears coming to her eyes. Your dad looked dumbfounded, neither of them knowing what to say.

“And…Steve is the father?” your dad finally asked.

“Um…yes, sir,” Steve said, blushing furiously. Because wasn’t announcing a pregnancy basically telling people ‘hey, we had sex!’? There was only one way we got here.

“Oh, jesus,” your mom said.

“Are you intending to marry her?” your dad asked.

It went silent again.

“S-sorry?” Steve stuttered, his eyes wide.

Your dad looked angry now. “Are you planning to marry my daughter? Make an honest woman out of her?”

“I…I-“

You knew your dad was traditional, but you didn’t expect him to demand you get married. You were only 18. You and Steve weren’t even together.

“Dad, come on,” you said, pleaded. “Don’t do this. It’s humiliating.”

Your dad said your name sternly. “You don’t understand how serious of a situation this is, clearly. Your reputation is going to be drug through the mud. Both of you.” Your dad looked between you. Steve felt as if he was being scolded by his own father - no, that would be worse. “You need to get married. Be together for this child. I know the Harringtons can take care of you.”

“Dad!”

“Look, we’ll revisit this,” your mom said, drawing everyone’s attention. “What’s important right now is this baby. Do you have a doctor? Have you been going to appointments? Taking prenatals?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” you said.

“No, I’m not done-“ your dad interrupted, but your mom cut him off.

“No more. You’re stressing her out. It’s bad for the baby.”

“Stressing her out?!”

“Steve,” your mom said, ignoring your dad entirely. Steve was grateful for the interruption. “Are you planning to stick around? Be a dad?”

“Of course,” he said instantly. No hesitation whatsoever.

Your mom smiled. “Good. That’s what matters. We can talk about marriage later.” 

Steve paled again.

“This is ridiculous,” your dad said. He stood, walking over to the phone on the wall. He angrily dialed a number, then pressed the phone to his ear.

“Dad…?” you said, dreading whatever he was about to do. “Who are you calling?”

He ignored you. Then, finally- “Mr. Harrington!” he greeted the man on the other line.

Steve looked as if he might pass out. You gripped his hand tighter. “Dad, don’t do this. Please don’t do it like this.”

“Mr. Harrington,” he said into the phone. “Did you know your son is at my house? With my daughter?” A pause. “Yes. Well, apparently, we’re going to be in laws.”

You closed your eyes, the embarrassment and dread physically painful. Steve was nervously bouncing his leg so hard the whole couch was shaking. Your mom stood up, trying to talk some sense into your father, but the damage had already been done.

Your dad held the phone out towards Steve. “He wants to talk to you, son.”

Steve walked over to take the phone like he was walking to his own execution. His hand was shaking as he took it from your father’s hand, then held it to his ear. “…Dad?” He held the phone away from his ear as you could hear the man screaming from where you sat across the room.

“Dad, listen…I-yes, I did, but it-…yeah, I was seeing Nancy. It’s a long story. I-…she’s not a-…okay. Yeah. Okay. See you at home. Yeah. Bye.”

Steve hung up the phone, looking completely dejected. This had gone way worse than you expected. Steve was horrified. You felt guilty once again, that you were putting Steve through this and that you had let your parents down. They didn’t even know about the whole Nancy’s boyfriend thing yet.

“I gotta go,” Steve said to you, looking apologetic and sad. He put his hand on your upper arm, thumb caressing it over the material of your sweatshirt. Then, surprising you, he put his hand on your belly. He smiled down at it affectionately. “Bye, lil’ nugget.” He looked at you again. “See you tomorrow.”

Even with Steve gone, the tension in the room was still high. Your mom was looking at you like she couldn’t believe her baby girl was doing things like having sex and getting pregnant. Your dad looked at you like you’d disappointed him greatly. You didn’t know which was worse.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and freshen up for dinner,” your mom finally said, forcing a kind smile onto her face.

“Okay,” you said. You were grateful for the excuse to get out of this room. You hurried up the steps, heading into your bathroom to pee for the millionth time that day and then take a shower. You stared at your body in the mirror when you got undressed - it was weird, the changes it was going through. You looked so different already, and it wasn’t even halfway through yet. Almost, though. That thought was terrifying. 

After your shower you blow dried your hair, then walked into your bedroom wrapped in a towel. You collapsed back onto your bed. Your back hurt, your feet hurt, and you still weren’t even that big yet. God, how embarrassing will it be to go through graduation super pregnant? You hadn’t even thought of that. The whole school watching you knowing what you did. And Hawkins was small. This would follow you forever.

You dressed in a t-shirt and comfy pants, brushing your hair out and doing something with it. You didn’t have the energy to put in much effort. You didn’t even put on any makeup before you went downstairs, taking a seat at the table and putting a serving on your plate. It was still tense, like you’d interrupted a heated conversation. You didn’t want to put stress on your parents’ marriage, too. You had already caused so much collateral damage.

After dinner, you waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, just as you were starting to doze off, the phone next to your bed rang. You snatched it off the receiver so fast it barely had time to make a sound.

“Steve?” you said quickly, praying it was him and that he was alright.

“Hey,” he said, his familiar voice bringing you a weird sense of peace. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” You couldn’t believe Steve was worried about you first amidst all of this. “Are you okay?”

He sighed deeply. “Yeah. My dad is pissed. Both my parents are furious.”

“Oh,” you said. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. But, uh…they want to meet you.”

You froze. “They want to meet me?”

“Well, yeah. You’re having their grandchild.”

When he put it like that, it sounded so much bigger. You put a hand on your stomach, rubbing in circles around it. “Okay. We can do that.”

“It’s not just to yell at you, I promise,” he said with a slight chuckle. “They got that out of their system with me tonight I think. They just want to know you. They want to be involved with the baby.”

“Okay,” you said again. “Um…when?”

“Friday maybe?” he asked. “You can ride home with me after school.”

“Alright.” It was quiet again for a while. “I’m glad you’re okay, Steve. How are you feeling with the whole…Nancy stuff?”

He sighed. “It sucks. I’m not gonna lie to you. I miss her. I miss her, like, a lot. She won’t even look at me. It hurts.”

You felt terrible. “Steve, I’m so sorry. This is such a mess.”

“Yeah, it is.” You could almost hear a smile in his voice when he spoke again. “But it’s not all bad. I’m…kind of excited to be a dad.”

Your eyebrows flew up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I always wanted to be a dad.” A beat of silence. “It’s earlier than I wanted, sure, and I’m not even sure what we’re going to do, but I know that we’re having this baby and I’m going to love them and be the best dad. Better than my dad.”

His speech made you feel fuzzy inside, your heart beating hard in your chest. You hadn’t thought about the good parts yet. You’d been too stressed with Nancy, Barb, your parents, Steve’s parents, college…maybe being a mom wouldn’t be so bad.

“You gonna coach little league?” you asked, smiling. You felt giddy, like a teenage girl kicking her feet and talking to her crush. Only, you didn’t have feelings for Steve like that.

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “I am! I’m looking forward to it. I played baseball, basketball, I was the captain of the swim team…”

“Wow. I knew you were a jock, but I didn’t know you played so many sports.”

“Good at them, too.” The pride was evident in his voice.

“Are we gonna have a little sports prodigy?”

“God, I hope so.”

You laughed. Steve made you feel a way you truly didn’t understand. It was like butterflies in your stomach, goosebumps on your skin. You remembered what it felt like to kiss him, to-

“What if they’re more like me?” you asked. “Will you be disappointed?”

“Like you?” he said. “What, smart as hell? No, of course I wouldn’t be disappointed. I’d be so proud to have a genius kid.”

“Genius?” you laughed. “I am not a genius.”

“You’re super smart.” A pause. “Our baby would be lucky to be like you.”

Your heart beat harder. “Steve-“

“Oh, shit. I gotta go. My parents grounded me and put me on a curfew.” He scoffed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” When you heard the click of him hanging up the phone, you felt disappointed. Like you missed him immediately. Your fingers itched to call him back.

You made yourself turn off the lights and get into bed instead. Your head was plagued with thoughts of Steve. You couldn’t think of anything else. You had visions of him holding a newborn baby, playing with a rambunctious toddler, playing baseball with a kid, smiling with a teenager. You had a whole life ahead of you with Steve. You, Steve, and your baby.

You wondered if it would be a boy or a girl. You didn’t know if you had a preference one way or the other. As cliche as it was, you just wanted a healthy baby. You felt like you needed to grow up fast now. It wasn’t just you you had to worry about, you had to think of this baby all the time now, first.

You thought you liked being pregnant. It felt nice to carry the baby with you, to be so impossibly close to them, having them inside where they’re safe. Despite the morning sickness (which had thankfully come to an end), you would maybe miss being pregnant after having the baby.

You drifted off eventually to those thoughts- feeling content.

sorry i forgot the taglist!!

@crispystarfishhottub @luveediary @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @melaninjhs

[georgeclarkeys]

emergency contact - george clarkey

summary: sometimes george is not as smooth as he thinks he is, but you are always there to take care of him - 1k words

i went back and forth for a few days about posting this because i really don't like it

anyways

hope y'all don't hate it!

~

The sunlight peeking through the parted curtain stirred you awake, and you subconsciously reached towards the space next to you in search of George. As your hands made contact with nothing but empty air and cold sheets you immediately peeked an eye open. After visually confirming that your boyfriend was no longer warming the other side of your bed, you wrapped yourself in a blanket and groggily padded into the kitchen. There was a note on top of the coffee machine with your name scribbled in a familiar handwriting, accompanied by a few goofy doodles. Flipping it over, you began reading.

Good morning dearest, Just in case you have forgotten, I am off filming with the Sidemen this morning. (They scare me I can’t tell them no) I should be home sometime after 2, and we will spend the rest of the day together. Love you, George

He had explained all of this to you last night, you recalled, but you were too busy trying to get him to kiss you to reeeaaalllyyy listen to what he was saying. Sighing, you placed the note back down and started the coffee maker, pondering how you should spend your George-less Saturday morning. 

A short while later you were back in your bed, still wrapped in a blanket, but with your new book in hand. You had decided that the best way to enjoy your alone time was with some literature-centered self care. There was nothing like reading a good book, especially when George wasn’t there to distract you. So, you snuggled deeper into your blanket and allowed yourself to get lost in the words on the page.

Several hours and a few hundred pages later, your phone began to buzz and George’s contact photo lit up your screen. You glanced at the clock, it was nowhere near two. Thinking they must have wrapped up filming early, you sat down your book and slid your thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“Hey hun, did you get finished early?” You questioned, absentmindedly picking at your nails. 

But it was not George’s voice that answered on the other end of the line. 

“Hey, (Y/N),” you sat up a bit straighter as you recognized Simon’s voice, “So we have a slight problem…”

“Uh, hey Simon? What’s going on?”

“Well, George has been injured, but he’s mostly alright. He got a little mixed up during a challenge, twisted his ankle and hit his head pretty hard. He's bleeding quite a bit and one of our producers is checking him for a concussion. He told us to call you.”

Your heartbeat quickened, “Can you send me your location? I’ll be right there.”

“For sure, see you in a few,” Simon replied, ending the call.

Your phone pinged with a text message containing the location of the shoot as you rushed to pull on a hoodie and a pair of sneakers. A few seconds later you were out the door and in your car, breaking a few traffic laws as you made your way across London.

Once you arrived it was easy to spot the group of people surrounding your boyfriend, who was sitting on the ground holding a bloody towel to his forehead. As you approached, Simon and Josh walked over to meet you.

“Hey thanks for coming, we don’t think it’s anything too serious but none of us were comfortable letting him drive himself home. He’s a little dazed,” Josh explained. 

“Yeah no worries,” you replied, glancing around Simon’s tall frame in search of a glimpse of George, “what happened anyways?”

Simon coughed in an attempt to hide a chuckle, “Well, to be completely honest with you, he tripped over himself and fell down a few steps. I think one of our videographers got it on camera.”

You scrubbed a hand over your face, “You can’t be serious.” Simon looked at the floor and nodded his head. “Well let me get him home then,” you sighed and began making your way over to the group of people. 

Noticing your arrival, George looked up and offered a lopsided smile through the blood coating his face, “(Y/N)? What in the world are you doing here?”

You let out a laugh at his bad joke, “Well if you would stop going face-first down staircases I would still be at home wouldn’t I?” 

He winced as he laughed and pointed up at you, “Well you got me there.” 

“C’mon,” you tugged on his hand in an attempt to get him on his feet, “let’s get you home.” 

A few of the boys jumped in and offered to help you get him to your car, but you declined, slinging George’s muscled arm around your shoulder and steadying yours around his waist. He had a bit of a limp, but made it to the car without any complications. After making sure George was settled in your passenger seat and promising to send Simon a text when the two of you arrived, you started making your way home.

A short drive and several drops of blood on your passenger seat later, George was finally inside and seated at your kitchen table as you pulled out the first aid kit to clean up the cut on his face. You gently grabbed his face to clean the blood off with a damp cloth before putting medicine on his scrape, and covering it with a bandage. He sat there silently throughout the whole process, watching you carefully as you focused on the task at hand.

You made eye contact with him after securing the bandage. “Go change out of these filthy clothes,” you offered a small smile and tugged on his shirt, which was covered in blood and dirt, “I’ll meet you in the bedroom after I clean this mess up.”

As you made your way into the bedroom you found George on your shared bed, tucked into a sea of pillows and blankets. His eyes were half lidded, and his lips turned upwards into a sleepy smile. You slid into bed next to him and he immediately shifted towards you, snaking his arms around you and snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. 

You could feel his lips brushing your neck as he mumbled, “Thanks for taking care of me.”

You closed your eyes and rested your chin on top of his head before softly saying, "thanks for keeping my life interesting," and drifting off to sleep beside the love of your life.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ - later that evening

yourusername posted a story!

[no-144444]

photograph- c.leclerc

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or, 5 moments in y/n and charles's life that made the internet go crazy :)

charles leclerc x norris! reader

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AC incident 

You walked into Charles’s room, a drink in hand. God, you forgot how hot Monaco was, even this late in the year. When you’d packed to come visit your boyfriend, you’d thought about the cold and miserable weather back home, not the hot, sweaty, humid, and sunny weather of Monaco. That’s how you ended up in a pair of Charles’s shorts, and just your bra.

“Baby?” He called you. 

“Hm?” You nodded, not looking up from your phone as you lay on his bed. You knew he liked gaming, especially when it wasn’t much about racing, and you didn’t want to disturb him. But his room was the only one with working AC, and you were about to die in the kitchen’s heat. 

When you didn’t get an answer you looked up to see his eyes firmly glued to you, rather than the fifa game he’d just lost. You could hear all his friends shouting at him for missing a goal and costing their team the win. 

“What?” You chuckled, getting up and walking over to him. 

“You look so beautiful, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek when you bent down beside him, laughing at the comments in his ears about him being down-bad. “So pretty.”

“Thanks baby,” you smiled, casting your eyes to the chat, which was all about you and Charles, either complimenting how good you looked, or how cute you were together. 

Landosnandos21: y/n is looking good. DAMN. 

y/n’sversion: Monaco weather is a blessing if we get to see mother like this. 

Charlesleclerc’stoes: alexa play ‘that should be me’ by justin bieber. (I’m taking about charles his woman is FINE.)

y/n’shairfolical: marriage when? children with perfect genetics when?

Pastryboy81: if he’s not this obsessed with me, i don’t want it. 

You laughed at the chat as Charles let his hands wander down your back to your ass, then further to your thighs. 

“Hey!” You heard Lando’s voice through his headphones. “Get your hands off my sister! Stop being weird on stream!” 

You laughed as Charles dropped his hands from you like you were on fire. “Lando, shut up,” you held your middle finger up to the camera, hoping he’d see it as Charles laughed with you. 

“I’m just going to turn the AC on, ok?” You turned to Charles, who stared for a second, then nodded like a puppy. “Thanks,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips, then going back over to the bed and turning the AC on. 

His gaming continued for another 20 minutes before he shut off the game and came over to you. “Hello baby,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your neck as he lay beside you. You kissed back as his hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer. Though his body was warm, you didn’t really mind. “Can we-?” he smiled bashfully and you chuckled.

“Is the stream off?” You asked, knowing his challenges with technology.

“Maybe? I do not know,” he chuckled. “I don’t really care.”

You chuckled, but got up anyway, actually turning off the stream. “Bye guys!” Only a bit embarrassed. 

-----------------

Bahrain 

Charles had been training and preparing since the moment he’d gotten up that morning, aka, he hadn’t seen you. There he sat, in his freezing ice bath, when he caught a glimpse of what he thought to be you, cycling with Carlos. He gave a sneaky look to the camera that was on him, then; one second he was there, his trainer looked away, and the next second, he was gone. Shot off like a rocket in your direction. You and Carlos had to jump off your bikes and almost fall over to get out of his way, and even then he chased you all around the paddock, trying to get a hug. 

“Charles! You’re soaking wet!” You laughed as you felt the eyes of the entire team on you two. 

“Come on mi amor! I have not seen you all day! I never race my best without seeing you!” He pleaded, still chasing after you. 

Your laughing stopped when Carlos grabbed you by the shoulders to stop you from running away, helping Charles’s plan. He held you to his chest as Charles celebrated and thanked him, and as the team videoed. 

Finally, Charles made his way over to you and smirked. “A hug, my love?”

And you had no choice. You were passed from Carlos’s arms to Charles’s and hit with the freezing water that coated his swim shorts and his body. “Fuck Charles!” You squealed. “You’re freezing!” 

He just laughed and pressed your head further into his neck, pressing kisses to the top of your head as the paddock became a chorus of ‘awws’ and ‘oooos’. 

“I’m getting you back for this,” you gritted, low enough so only he could hear it.

He smiled wider. “I know you will.”

-----------------

Streaming goes wrong

Charles was doing another stream with the f1 boys, you knew that. Charles liked to get very focused on what he was doing, you knew that. But Charles had also promised to come pick you up from the airport, and after 30 minutes of waiting for Arthur to find his baggage (birthday surprise for Charles), then 40 minutes of waiting for Charles, nothing. Not even a phone call or a text. You were exhausted, Vancouver to Monaco was an 11 hour flight, and you hadn’t slept a wink thanks to the guy in front of you, who’s snores could’ve started an avalanche if they were given the chance. 

You opened twitch and pressed on Charles’s stream, to find him busy racing with the other boys. You sighed and decided to just get a cab instead, not wanting to bother him. He could be very forgetful, and you knew that. 

After a 32 minute drive, walking up the stairs with your suitcase since the elevator was out of order, and coming inside, you dropped your suitcase by the door, and went straight to your neighbours apartment to get Charles’s other birthday present even if you weren’t going to try and talk to Charles right now, not when you were that angry. 

Charless16900: wasn’t y/n coming home today? Did you pick her up?

Charles glanced at the chat to see the message and his face fell. He was meant to pick you up- he looked at his watch- more than an hour ago. He checked his phone to find the messages you’d left and he sighed. 

“I am in big trouble,” he told the group, a sorrowful look in his eyes.

George chuckled. “What? Why? What did you do?”

“I forgot to pick up Y/n from the airport!” He groaned. “She got a taxi instead.”

“Oh, so that was the noise from earlier, your door opening,” Alex added. 

“What?!” Charles squeaked. “She is home already?”

“I think so mate,” Max laughed. “Good luck.”

Charles got up from his chair for a few minutes to go and talk to you. “Baby?” He called out to the apartment. “I’m sorry?”

And then a pillow was flung at his face. “You dick!” Arthur shouted. “You forgot us at the airport!”

Charles stared at his little brother, completely confused. “What are you doing here?” He chuckled, throwing the pillow back. 

“I am here for your birthday surprise!” Arthur explained, throwing the pillow back at him. “You know, the one Y/n set up?”

Charles shook his head, even more confused. 

“Thanks Arthur, congratulations, you ruined the surprise,” you walked in with a small dachshund in your arms. “Well, here's the other part of the surprise.”

Charles stared at you. “You got me a dog?” He smiled, taking the dachshund from your arms.

“I got us a dog,” you corrected him. “Happy birthday-eve,” you smiled. “Also fuck you for not picking me up from the airport.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Arthur cheered, annoying Charles. “You could’ve seen me way faster- ew! Stop it!”

Arthur started complaining because Charles had started kissing you. You chuckled into the kiss as one of his arms wrapped around your waist and the other held your new dog. Your arms wrapped around his neck as Arthur threw a pillow at the both of you, causing Charles to pull away and start chasing him around the apartment. 

You chuckled to yourself and picked up the pillow, fixing up your bed. Maybe you could forgive Charles for his mistake. Then you looked at his gaming set-up and saw that everything was still on and that he was still streaming. 

“Charles!” you scolded, going over and ending the stream with a wave. “Turn off the stream before you run off!”

“Sorry, my love!” He called back. 

“And Arthur!” you shouted. “Stop chasing your brother around my house, you’re going to break something!”

“Sorry!” He called back. 

-----------------

Qualifier

You watched with bated breath as the qualifier for the Monaco GP dragged on. It was the last lap, Oscar right on his tail, and…

He did it. He crossed the finish line first. Ahead of Max, ahead of Oscar, ahead of everyone. 

The entire paddock was alive with cheering. Every person pulled someone closer in with hugs and cheers, and it was all thanks to Charles. Arthur and you were jumping up and down, ecstatic that he’d won. As soon as you two could, you ran to the lineup and watched as he jumped out of the car, running straight towards you. He pulled off his helmet, handing it off to someone, then he scooped you up in his arms, a bright smile on his face as he kissed you. The small camera crew and the number of fans around clapped and cheered as cameras flashed and pictures were taken. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you smiled. “My winner.”

“Your winner, always. And soon, your husband." 

Thank god neither of you were wearing microphones. 

-----------------

Interview goes south

“Does being Charles Leclerc make you fuck more?”

Charles tried to stifle the shit-eating grin on his face when he looked up and found you with your head in your hands, shaking your head and laughing as the second-hand embarrassment hit you like a freight train.

He chuckled. “I am very lucky, I am very in love and my beautiful girlfriend loves me too,” he smirked. “But the answer is definitely yes,” he laughed as the other interviews burst into uncontrollable laughter. Obviously he was making a joke (no he wasn’t, you two went at it like bunny rabbits), but it was awfully embarrassing for you both. Charles beckoned you over and you obliged, only to set the record straight. 

“He’s joking about that,” you clarified. “And don’t be so sure on how much your girlfriend loves you after that answer,” You scolded. Charles laughed, holding you closer and pressing ‘apology’ kisses to any piece of you he could reach. The video ended with Charles chasing you around the paddock as you ducked past people to evaded his capture.

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navigation for my blog :)

[navybrat817]

Mr. And Mrs. Barnes. Are they ever worried about being apart from each other?

It gets to them from time to time, nonnie.

Hurry Back

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to leave for a mission, and it feels a bit tougher than usual.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, crying, being in love, feels, light angst, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Before Mr. and Mrs. Barnes got married. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up earlier than expected today. You and Bucky were typically up early anyway thanks to work, but he was up well before the sun rose since he had a mission to get ready for. He wanted you to get some more sleep, but you refused. Sleep would come later, and you wanted to be wide awake to see him off.

Helping pack his bag, you paused and brought one of his shirts to your face. Gently inhaling, you smelled the new detergent he recently switched to. You smiled at the memory of him in the store aisle bringing each cap to your nose to smell. When you asked why he was making you smell all of them, he said he wanted to use the one that smelled the most pleasant to you. He had done the same thing with his cologne, and he made sure to get your favorites.

“Smell is one of the closest senses tied to memories,” he said once you were home. “Whenever you smell my cologne and whenever I smell your perfume, we can think of each other.”

“Is that why you like a spritz of my perfume on your pillow?”

“Yeah, baby,” he smiled gently. “I smell it and I know I’m home.”

Setting the shirt in the bag, you grabbed your bottle of perfume and lightly sprayed it over the open bag. With Bucky’s heightened senses, he’d be able to catch the scent when he opened it. You hoped it made him feel like he was home.

Bucky came out of the bathroom just as you set the bottle back, your breath catching when he ran a hand through his wet hair. You wished you had time to drag him back to bed. Not even for sex, but just to hold each other. “You’ll have the alarm set while I’m gone, right?”

“Of course. I have alerts on my phone, too. I’ll be fine,” you assured him.

He barely nodded. You were aware that he didn’t exactly like the idea of you being there by yourself, but you reminded him the night before that you lived alone before the two of you got together. This wasn’t any different. You also understood the worry, and you appreciated that your safety mattered so much to him.

“Thanks for helping me pack,” he said, his voice thicker than usual. There was a noticeable tick in his jaw, too.

You tried to give him your best smile as you smoothed out the sleeves on his black t-shirt. “Nothing to thank me for,” you said, your voice thick, too.

This wasn’t the first time he had to leave for a mission, and it wouldn’t be the last, but today did feel a bit different. Not because of the worry for your safety, but maybe because it was the first time he had to leave since you two moved in together. In the past, you didn’t have to watch him walk out the door, and he didn’t have to look back to say goodbye.

Goodbye wasn’t exactly something you liked to say since it felt too final.

He captured one of your wrists before you could step away and brought your hand to his cheek. Your heart turned over as he nuzzled your palm, his scruff tickling your skin. “I hate this, you know.”

“Hate what?” you asked, tucking a bit of his hair back. You’d have to help trim it again soon. It meant a lot that he trusted you to help cut his hair.

“Having to be apart from you,” he answered after a moment, his eyes searching yours. He looked lost, but only for a moment

“So do I,” you admitted. He was a hero and people needed him, but it didn’t make him leaving any easier. Waiting for him to come back was the worst part. The dusk before dawn. “But it’s just a couple of days, right? And then you’ll be back before you know it.”

He’d be back with you in the comfort of your home where you both belonged.

“Right,” he said, kissing the center of your palm before he inhaled. “You sprayed your perfume.”

“I did,” you confirmed. Your man didn’t miss a thing. “I wanted it to smell like home for you.” Your voice cracked unexpectedly, and you feared breathing another word in case you burst into tears. You needed to keep it together. The last thing Bucky had to deal with before leaving were your tears.

His gaze went soft, and you nuzzled him when he touched your cheek, the same way he nuzzled you. You already missed the feel of his hands on you though he hadn’t left yet. He was going to miss your touch, too. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you whispered.

You knew in your heart you would never love anyone else the way you love Bucky. He was your best friend, your lover, your soulmate, your everything. If you lost him today whether by death or him walking away, you'd never move on from him. The overwhelming intensity and knowledge of that hit you like a freight train, and you couldn't stop the tears from spilling over. Words alone weren't enough to convey what you felt for him, and the deep emotion in your heart had to overflow and come out somehow.

“Baby,” he whispered, his thumbs quickly wiping away the teardrops. Looking into the deep blue of his eyes through your blurry vision, you saw the same overwhelming sense of love reflected in them. “Breaks my heart when you cry. How can I stop it?”

Stay.

But you refused to ask that of him. You could handle a short mission like you had before. You were a big girl.

“I’m fine, and I’m so sorry,” you told him. He had a mission to concentrate on and didn't need to deal with your tears, good or bad. “I swear, I’m not trying to cry. I’m stronger than this.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he stated, his brows pinched like he was trying not to cry himself. “Crying isn't a weakness. It never is.”

You nodded. It was something you said to him once after he had a terrible nightmare, and they weren’t just empty words. Tears were a sign of vulnerability, but also a sign of strength.

“And you’re so strong. You’re one of the strongest people I know,” he added, his mind in tune with yours. It comforted you. “I mean, you have to be strong to put up with me.”

He chuckled when your eyes narrowed. “I do not ‘put up with you’, so don’t say that,” you argued. He was your man, and you loved him. If anything, he put up with you. “You really think I’m strong?”

“I know you are. You may shed a few more tears when I leave and that’s okay if you do as much as it breaks my heart,” he replied, kissing one last tear away. “But I know you’ll pick yourself up, put a smile on your face, and kick the day’s ass like you do every day.”

You laughed a little and turned your face to meet his lips. He saw the best in you, and he brought it out of you. “I’ll do my best. And I know you’ll kick the mission’s ass.”

“And I know you’ll also find me and kick my ass if I don’t hurry back,” he half teased.

“Damn straight,” you smiled, taking a deep breath and slowly pulling out of his grasp when his phone dinged. Steve was probably waiting outside. “So, we’re just a couple of ass kickers, huh? That makes for a good team.”

The two of you were similar in many ways, but also so different, and it created the perfect balance.

“The best team,” he winked, patting his pockets. “Keys, wallet-”

“Still on the nightstand, ready for you to keep them safe and sound on the quinjet,” you said, nodding to where they sat. “And I have your coffee ready in your favorite to-go mug.”

“I’d say ‘what would I do without you?’, but…” He pulled you back to him, his stare robbing you of your breath once again. “I don’t want to ever find out,” he said.

You didn’t want to find out either.

Your heart fluttered when his lips covered yours. He easily coaxed you to open your mouth to his and allowed him to take what you were always willing to give. It wasn’t easy to be the one who had to stay behind, but it had to be harder to be the one who went ahead on the path. He felt alone for so long, but he’d always have the support of his friends. And he’d always have you.

Even if you physically weren’t beside him during a mission, you would be in his heart, mind, and soul.

You heard him swallow when he pressed his forehead to yours. Some days you wondered if it wasn’t just his senses that the serum heightened, but his feelings and sense of self. He fought for and tried to protect Steve before the serum. Did he fight so much for you because he had something to cherish and protect? Did he love more fiercely because of it? Maybe it simply enhanced the man he was and the heart within him.

“I know you’d stay longer if you could, but you shouldn’t keep Steve waiting,” you said.

Bucky reluctantly released you and slipped into mission mode, silently grabbing everything else he needed, including a knife you gifted him with. You couldn't help yourself. The man was proficient with many weapons, but something about a knife… Maybe you could find an outfit for him to cut off once he came home.

Once you helped him put his leather jacket on and handed him his coffee, you snuck in one more kiss. You refused to cry again. “Love you, handsome. Be safe, and hurry back.”

“Love you, beautiful,” he breathed, slipping his dog tags around your neck with his free hand. When had he grabbed those? “Keep those safe ‘til I get back.”

“I will,” you promised.

A weight settled in your chest when he opened the front door. You liked to believe some days that Bucky was invincible, but he was mortal at the end of the day…. Human. He bled; he suffered. But the weight within you lifted when he stopped and looked back at you with a loving smile. He was human, but he endured, he survived.

Bucky Barnes never gave up, and he never would.

Touching the dog tags, you smiled, too. Life was unpredictable, fleeting, and anything could happen when he left, but the love between you was steadfast, everlasting, and you had to believe he’d come home to you. And you’d welcome him back with arms open and the love he deserved.

I hope this month is kind to everyone and that you have love like the way these two love each other. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[uhdrienne]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 the embodiment of grace and deviousness

⛓️ pairing: seungcheol x f!reader ⛓️ genre: sfw, fluff, angst, mafia au, soulmate au ⛓️ word count: ~8k ⛓️ warnings: mentions of violence, weapons, open wounds. do not interact if it can be triggering! there's going to be cursing too because seungcheol is a grumpy one :") ⛓️ summary: as an author, it's almost poetic that your soulmate tattoo would be a flower. actually... half a flower. a snapdragon, to be exact. the petals on your arm, the vines on seungcheol's. it's even more cliche when you meet him on valentine's day. to you it means grace, but for seungcheol, he still has zero idea on what flower his tattoo is. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious at all, but during this season of love, you're about to figure out exactly what this all means for you and him, the leader of the city's most dangerous mafia.

author's note: suuurprise! to commemorate my first valentines' on this platform, here is a fic, part of @ddeonghwa-s Secret Cupid Event 💌 thank you so much to @ddeonghwa-s for putting this event together, and of course to the wonderful @kpopflowerfield for giving me this opportunity to write for you, i hope you like this as much as i did💘

here is the event masterlist! do support the works of all other authors too, all of them are so so amazing <3 happy valentines' day!!

depending on the POV, italics signify either the author's writing or Seungcheol's thoughts <3

"Territory 13 is acting up again, sir."

"Are they?"

"They're giving trouble. Threatening to cut off our chain supply in the north."

“Hm.”

“We’ve lost a few men fighting them for the past few days. The situation doesn’t seem to be de-escalating, so we reported to you.”

“Nowhere else we can push to weaken them?”

“They seem to have it figured out, sir. They outnumber us at every turn.”

"Well, we can't have that, can we?"

"No, sir."

"You have three hours till dawn. Take the men you need and get it settled. It won't be pretty if I don't get better news by then."

"Yes, sir."

"Go."

He swings his chair around to the fading sky of the night, nursing his glass of amber. He looks down to his full sleeve of black, red, and blue ink. Zinnias, dahlias, rhododendrons, and in the centre, like the highlight of a Naturalism painting, a whorl of vines and small, green leaves, linked to the vines of other flowers. He has no idea what it means, has had no idea since the day he got it. Ever since, all he's focused on is getting it covered, blended in with other flowers on his skin.

What is the point of such a mark on his skin, he wonders for the umpteenth time as he runs his hands over the permanent imprint, if the universe won't show me what it means?

He glances at the corner of his screen. 1:30am. 14 February. Hm.

He looks away.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we can proceed with cover design and vetting for you, ma'am."

"Oh... Not possible? At all?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. Your drafts weren’t given the green light from our Head of Publishing, and our team can't exactly spare the manpower to help you right now."

"...I see. And there’s no one else I can look for? Or….. any contacts you may have?”

“We can try, ma’am, but we can’t promise anything. It’s busy period for us publishers at the moment.”

“Ah. Well, thank you anyway. I hope we can work together in the future."

You put your phone down and sink back into your chair, covering your face with your hands. Your most recent creative co-director pulled out two days ago, another graphic design deal fell through, and now this publishing company. At this rate, you don't know if your book will even ever reach the local bookstore across the street.

You blow out a breath, look down at the only black ink on unblemished skin, the one that's been there since the day you turned 20 years old.... the petals of a snapdragon.

Your phone lights up with a text from a friend, and as you unlock it, the date catches your attention.

14 February. Happy Valentines' Day to you.

Your final straw comes when you're walking home from your office the next night. You rub your tattoo, which has been irritated the whole of today. You have no idea what it means, just that it can't be good for your soulmate bond. But you've never been concerned for him, not the slightest bit, since the day you got the tattoo. Because he's not something you're looking for right now.

Then you hear scuffling, a familiar thing here in the rougher area of town where you live. Your only intention is to walk past and ignore everything. From prior experience, that's the best survival tactic you have: Don't go looking for trouble, and it won't find you.

A man appears on the sidewalk and walks towards you. You walk faster, calculating the distance it takes. Two hundred metres and you'll be under the safety of the street lights. One hundred and fifty. One hundred. The man seems to be getting closer.

You hear a thud. Fuck. What was that?

You squeeze your eyes together and turn around. It sounds stupid, but you'd like to at least see the face of your captor before you see darkness. You read novels about this. When a character gets out of a captor's grasp, they can never tell the police what the kidnappers look like. If now is your time, you won't go down making the same mistake.

Except there isn't a captor nor a body bag. It's just another man, hands in pockets, bending down to survey the unconscious lump on the concrete ground just behind you. He looks at you, the exact moment that you too meet his eyes. And you feel it. At the worst possible time in your life, ever, for crying out loud.

Hundreds, maybe thousands of volts of electricity. A rising and a pop in your head, a sizzling burn on your forearm. Who knew a soulmate bond snapping into place could be this painful? You choke out a gasp as the pain sears, brands itself into your arm. The outline of the flower appears in full glory, the vines entwining itself around your arm as it links with the petals. It's beautiful and horrifying, and you watch as the flower you've been waiting for finally, finally blooms.

Before long, the bloom appears on your forearm. A snapdragon.

The man seems to feel the same thing, as he doubles over in pain, pupils dilated in shock and clutching his arm. His face is covered by his hood so you can't see what he looks like, but he turns and runs, and before long he's disappeared into the darkness.

A few minutes pass before the pain finally subsides, and in its place comes a wave of exhaustion. You sink on the concrete, careful not to stir your unconscious stalker, who's still lying on the ground motionless.

You've found your soulmate. On the day of love.

You touch your mouth when you feel a smile creeping up your face.

--------------------------------

Seungcheol opens his door, barks an order to his guard outside not to disturb him unless "someone is bloody dead", sinks down on a couch and grabs a whisky. He downs it, the burn of the alcohol close to nothing as compared to that of the flower sitting oh-so-innocently on his forearm. He'll never forget the way the snapdragon petals appeared, as if they were burnt into his skin.

He stares at it, remembers the girl who gasped in pain just as he did. He never meant for this to happen. He was only passing by and saw a man from one of the local, problematic gangs sneaking up on you. He only meant to get the man away as he usually would for anyone else, because his principles, despite his rough line of work, never permitted him to disrespect women. He only meant to do one thing and go on his way. He only felt his arm burning right before he turned onto that damn street.

He glares at his arm, like the ordeal is its fault. His hand is shaking. It never shakes.

He didn't mean to feel his bond snap into place, never meant to meet you. He takes another long swig. This is the worst timing ever, he thinks darkly.

Meeting your soulmate on Valentines' Day can't be pure coincidence. If there wasn't a sign before that this was your chance, there very well was now. The next day you come up with a mission plan.

Find the man who is apparently my soulmate

...........

And that's when you sit down and have a good think. What are you even going to do when you do find him, anyway? Get together with him purely because he's meant for you, as the universe dictated? What if he's a rude jerk? What if he's ugly? What if... oh god, what if his breath stinks?

What if... he doesn't like you?

You continue writing on your notepad, absently, mindlessly writing sentences and paragraphs like word-vomit. Before long, you look down on the page to see almost a full journal entry, like you always do when you're anxious or stressed.

"Great," You mutter. "May as well write a book about this."

You enter the bookstore, waving at the little old lady who runs it.

"Good morning," She hums. "What are you looking for?"

You smile, thumbing through the different books on the shelf. "Morning. Something about flowers, maybe? I'm doing research... for a book I'm writing."

She nods. "Perhaps a book that explains the flower on your arm?"

You chuckle. Nothing could ever get past her eyes. "You caught me."

The lady laughs in return. "That," she says, hobbling out from the counter to rummage her inventory, "is a snapdragon. Yours is lovely -- a nice shade of red."

You smile. "Does its colour represent something, too?"

The old lady pulls down a thick book, flips through it and sweeps off the dust on the cover. "Every colour has its representation, but it's also your choice to decide what it means to you." She passes you the book. "In Chinese culture, it means prosperity. It's a lucky colour. For others, it could mean passion and love. It could also mean danger, perhaps courage..."

"Wow," You mumble, flipping through the book. "One colour and thousands of meanings?"

The old lady shrugs. "Colours and nature existed way before we did," She takes the book from you and goes to wrap it up in construction paper. "Is that the tattoo that brings you to your other half?"

"So the world says," You shrug, as you pay for the book. "I had the petals first, so the stem and leaves appeared when I met him, but I don't know where he is... or even what he looks like."

The lady nods in understanding. "I wouldn't worry. You'll find your way back to each other. I'd think that's what the tattoo's for."

"Do you know about them? What do they do?"

"Some stories say they help soulmates detect when one is in danger. Other stories say the closer you are, the warmer it feels... I've never tried."

Huh. You nod. "Thank you. So very much."

There is a soft shimmer of fascination in the old lady's eyes as she waves you goodbye. "I have faith that what's meant for you will come to you in due course, dear. Have a good day now."

------------------------------------

Seungcheol hasn't stopped glowering at his tattoo all day. It looks... out of place. The petals aren't supposed to be there. It looks like an outsider, a strange feeling he can't place. If this is the bond acting up, he surmises, it fucking sucks.

He needs coffee to cure the pounding headache building up.

He orders someone to get his coffee, and as he sits to wait, he taps at his keyboard impatiently, trying to figure out how the tattoo had built up.

The petals came later, he thinks. Is that supposed to mean something?

When his right-hand man, a freckled, tan man comes in with the coffee, Seungcheol is still none the wiser on the phenomenon. So he lowers his guard (for once, he thinks bitterly, for a soulmate bond of all things), and asks the man who's currently laying his coffee cup down. "Lee."

Lee looks up. "Yes, sir?"

"What do you know about soulmate bond tattoos?"

Lee looks visibly excited. "Did you get yours, sir?"

"Asking for a friend," Seungcheol deflects immediately. "So, what do you know about it?"

"I have one, sir," Lee says, and rolls up his sleeve to reveal a... half-faded anchor tattoo. "I was so.... it felt so strange to meet my other half."

"Strange. What was it like?"

Lee shrugs as he sets down a serviette. "Can I speak freely?"

Seungcheol waves at him to go ahead. He's usually the man who acts like he has a stick up his ass, but this time, he wants to find out everything he can about having a soulmate. Just so I don't drag the poor girl down with me for no good reason, he reasons to himself.

"It wasn't all good feelings," Lee explains thoughtfully, hands pausing mid-air. "My soulmate... he was an underground weapons dealer. And you know people in our circle, we don't do feelings. They're liabilities, it's another thing enemies can use against us." He chuckles bitterly. "That was one of the only things we had in common."

Seungcheol doesn't miss the way he's speaking in past tense. "You don't have to explain yourself," He says cautiously.

"No, that's okay," Lee says. "It was a while back. See, I have fading scars to prove that."

"What did it... feel like?"

"It started fading and it hurt so much, I knew something was wrong." Lee shows his arm again.

"What happened?"

Lee shrugs. "He died in an underground turf war. One of those."

Seungcheol makes eye contact. "Did you at least have good days with him?"

Lee looks at him, then looks away. "We did. Almost left the circle for each other, but..." He shrugs again. "Time just wasn't on our side."

"No," Seungcheol agrees. "It wasn't."

His fists clench. So this is what could happen to both parties who were in the circle, nevermind a civilian. He nods. "Thank you for telling me."

Lee gives him a half-smile. "So is this about your tattoo?"

"Y- No, for my friend," Seungcheol replies, cursing himself at the slip-up.

"I see," Lee says, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning. Seungcheol knows Lee doesn't believe him. As his right-hand man for years, how could he not see through Seungcheol? He starts walking towards the door. "Well, tell your friend that if there's anything I learnt, it's that time is a bitch. There's going to be a lot of fear, and it won't be pretty. But... take it from me," He smiles sadly. "It's going to feel worse when you don't treasure time and lose them. After all...." He opens the door. "I lived to tell the tale."

When the door closes behind him, Seungcheol leans back into his chair and rubs his temples.

"Some soulmates you find in the lecture hall of your school. Some you find along the way of life. Some... are pre-ordained by the universe, in the form of a snapdragon tattoo.

But are these... pre-meditated, pre-planned people meant to stay?"

You put down your pen.

You're curious. At the world, for giving you a person. How that system came about. About your soulmate. What he's like, what he looks like.

But there's no straightforward way to find him. No instruction manual that tells you where to go and what to do.

You decide to take a walk that evening. No distance limit. Just wherever your feet takes you.

And it brings you to this cafe on a street you've never been, with soft music and oak furniture, and a smiley, freckled and tan man behind the counter grins at you. "Welcome to Choi's."

"Hello," You say, smiling a bit. "Could I get a latte, and... that croissant? It looks amazing."

"Of course," He says, before turning to another burly staff that just appeared. "Get her a latte, will you?"

The staff nods, and disappears behind the coffee machine.

You take a seat, and hum as you wait. When the pastry and drink appear on your table, you thank the staff and look down to see the milk foam in the shape of a heart. Mmm. You take a sip, already feeling a lot better.

The bell jingles, and a man steps in, hands in his pockets. and heads for the counter. By force of habit, you look up and send him a cursory glance. And then you freeze. The man has rolled up his sleeves as he speaks to the staff, as if they already know each other, and on his arms....

A full tattoo sleeve of flowers. Zinnias, dahlias, rhododendrons, and in the centre, a whorl of vines leading to the most prominent flower. It looks fresh, like it was inked in a mere five minutes earlier.... in a shade of brilliant red... a snapdragon.

It's him.

The man must have excellent situational awareness because he acutely notices someone staring at him and he turns to you. Your shell-shocked face, your trembling hands... and his eyes fall on your forearm.

Choi Seungcheol had never felt this thunderstruck, not even when he found out half his men had been bought over by rivals years ago. He knows he'll never forget this feeling.

So he does the next best thing. He excuses himself from his staff and leaves.

So you get up and run after him.

Seungcheol's in the middle of cursing himself and the world out when he hears your voice calling for him.

"Sir...?"

He can pretend he doesn't know you're calling him. Sure. He can do that. Keep on walking, Seungcheol.

Until he hears running, and a tap on his shoulder. Ah.

He swallows, closes his eyes, and turns around. "Yes?" He asks coldly.

Ah. So he's not in the habit of making conversation, you think. "I'm really sorry about this, but can I...."

"Can you what?" Seungcheol replies, even though he already knows what you're going to say.

"Can I see your arm? For a second? I just wanted to make sure I wasn't seeing wrongly."

"No, you may not."

You cringe. Silence dwindles between both of you. "Uh... right."

Seungcheol reaches for his car key. "Why do you want to see my arm, love?" He casts a cursory glance at your arm. "To see if I'm your soulmate?"

You look down, then at him. "...Yeah. I got this tattoo, and I don't know what my soulmate looks like, so..."

"So you're trying to find him in me, huh?" Seungcheol doesn't mean to be rude, but this is the only way to get you off his back, at least until he knows how to move forward. The least he can do is to warn you. "News flash, love. I'm just a man who enjoys flowers. But me as your soulmate?" He chuckles and presses a button. From a distance, his car makes a beeping sound and unlocks. "I highly doubt it. You'll need to know who we are before you enter our world."

"And who are you?" The words come out before you can stop them.

Seungcheol supposes it doesn't hurt to establish who he is, just so you'll have enough sense to stay away.

"The mafia, love," He says softly, as he walks towards his car. "I'm the leader, here. I'd advise you to stay away from me, soulmate or otherwise."

When his car pulls away, you sigh and look at your tattoo.

The biggest joke the universe could have pulled on you. Making a mafia leader, out of 8 billion other people, your soulmate.

When he reaches home, Seungcheol reaches for his phone. When Lee answers, Seungcheol gives him a long list of things to do, for the cafe and for the mafia.

"Has anyone caught on the cafe yet?" He asks.

"Nope," Lee answers. "It was a good front to keep track of the public, but it seems like a normal cafe to them. So I'd say everything's fine, boss."

"Good."

"Anything else?" Lee says.

"....One more thing." Seungcheol says, sighing through his nose. "A girl came to the cafe tonight."

"...Uh-huh."

"The girl in the white cardigan and jeans."

"Right."

"Warn her not to divulge who we are and what the cafe really is. With any luck, she'll figure out that the cafe is protecting us."

"Protecting us..." Lee gasps. "Sir, you told her who you are? Why?"

"To get her to leave me alone," Seungcheol mutters. "Anyway, just tell her to zip her mouth. I don't care how you do it."

He regrets the words once they exit his mouth. "Just don't hit her or anything. We're not in that business."

A soft laugh comes over the phone. "She your soulmate or something, boss?"

Seungcheol pinches his nose. "So she thinks. Just because we have a matching..."

An idea hits him. "Do me another favour."

"Name it, boss."

"Find out where she was last night. Just to make clear something for me."

"You got it."

A knock on your door sounds in the middle of the night. When you open the door, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you flinch when two burly guys flanking the same freckled, tan man from the cafe last night step in your doorway.

"Uh...you're from the cafe, aren't you?"

"I thought a familiar face might help matters," The freckled man says. "My name's Lee. And you?"

You introduce yourself cautiously, but you look at the two men. "So... what the man said yesterday was true? You're not really a cafe, are you?"

Lee shrugs. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, anyway." He nods to the men. "We just came here to give a little warning."

You have a feeling you already know. "What warning?"

"Don't pry, and don't tell," Lee says, still smiling, but you sense the underlying threat within. "I don't know what business you have with us, but it should end now." He nods at you. "For both yours and our good."

The burly man on the left makes a point of nodding towards your home. "We know where you live, and we can find you no matter where you go. Don't complicate things for yourself. You won't like what comes next."

And they leave, leaving you shaking in the doorway. Anger courses through you. Your soulmate sent people after you to push you away.

You don't know everything about soulmate bonds, but what you do know is that soulmates are drawn to each other: to protect, and to take care of. Either your soulmate is very, very clueless; or he just doesn't want anything to do with you. You have to find out which answer it is before you decide whether to let go of him or not.

Alright, Mr. Mafia Boss, you clench your teeth. I don't have to deal with your mafia directly to get an audience with you. Let's see how far this game can go.

Moonlight slants through his ceiling-to-floor windows. Seungcheol grits his teeth as he watches the surveillance that Lee found for him. You, walking home the night of 14 February, around 10pm, going faster and faster as that son-of-a-bitch followed you. His arms rest on his chair as he sees himself appear and knock the guy out cold.

He sighs. So it really was you. He'd recognise that face anywhere.

He looks at his tattoo once more, hating how perfectly it entwines with the rest of his tattoos. So much for covering it up. He turns his arm around again and again. It's exquisite, but it lies there like a burden.

And it picks the perfect timing to start burning. Seungcheol grunts in pain, clutching his arm as it burns, sears with the same pain it did that night. He doesn't know how the system came about, but what he knows is this: You're in danger. And as annoyed as he is about this whole situation, he has to find you. If only to make the pain stop.

He reaches for his telephone, and when the other line picks up he hisses: "Find her. Now. Scour all the surveillance in the city. I don't care what you have to do, but find her."

He can hear his man barking out orders in the background, and he shakily puts the phone down. Lee comes bursting into the room, grabs Seungcheol's arm to check on him. Normally, Seungcheol would have the head of anyone who dared to touch him without permission, but given Lee's position in this predicament, he allows him to.

"Is it supposed to be like this?" Seungcheol groans out. "It hurts like hell."

"Yup," Lee mutters. "It is. Looks and seems exactly like mine whenever Bri got into danger."

"Danger--" Seungcheol scowls and tries getting up. "You mean she's injured?"

Lee shrugs. "I don't know if it extends to normal minor situations, but whenever Bri got into a fight, I'd feel my arm burning."

"Her, fight. Don't make me laugh," Seungcheol scoffs, then grunts again as another wave of pain hits him. "She looks like she couldn't hurt a fly."

"We've located her, boss," Another man comes into the room, holding a laptop towards him.

"Where?"

When silence answers him, he hisses. "I didn't ask you this question for you to not fucking reply. I asked where?"

"The border of Territory 7, sir."

"What the hell is she doing there? Is she an underworld member, too?" Lee wonders out loud.

Seungcheol pushes himself up off his seat, wincing as his arm throbs slightly. "Fuck if I know. But I guess I have to find her if I want this pain to stop."

"I'll get men and go with you," Lee starts, but Seungcheol waves him off. "No need. We don't need to stir up a fuss, not when the territories are already misbehaving these few weeks. I'll get her, and... figure it out later."

You're tapping your foot as you wander the edges of the city's largest turf. It's well-known that civilians shouldn't pass by here if they want to get home alive and well, but with the recent news of unrest stirring in such turfs, you figure that it's the best way to seek Seungcheol out. It's stupid, but it's your best bet. Plus, you figure that the nearer you are to

You must be near a group of militants on patrol duty, because you can hear hushed orders and boots crunching. You sigh and look at your watch.

"Are you actually stupid?"

You raise your head. "So it worked. So nice of you to join me this evening."

Seungcheol storms towards you. "So you tricked me?"

"Wasn't a trick." You mutter. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You are a nutcase," He seethes, as he grabs your arm and starts dragging you away. "Do you have any idea what would happen if anyone caught you? These few places are red-light districts now. You're not supposed to be here."

"I wouldn't know. You came anyway."

Seungcheol lets you go and huffs at you. "Go home, and don't get any more stupid ideas. Yes, I'm your soulmate. Yes, my tattoo is also a snapdragon, and I guess I can sense when you're in places you shouldn't be because my arm fucking burns, okay? Got your answer?"

"No," You say defiantly. "I haven't found out one thing. Why were you so desperate to deny that you weren't my soulmate? But you still came running anyway."

"This," He hisses, stepping closer to you, "is a pain in my ass. I can't work if my tattoo's going to start hurting every half hour. So for god's sake, please stay out of anything that doesn't concern you. Do not run into a lion's den to get an audience with me."

"So you're going to give me a way to contact you?" You shrug. "Sure, if that will keep me from making rash decisions."

Seungcheol furrows his brows. "What gave you that idea?"

"Well, you can't think I'm going to let you go after all of this, do you?"

What??

"Did I not make myself clear en-"

"Oh, you did," You say. "Like you said, you came running because you could sense I was somewhere I shouldn't be. So you can't stay away no matter how much I piss you off, can you?"

"I nev-"

"That's how soulmates work, Mr. Mafia Boss." You say smugly. "We can't stay away from each other, like a moth can't stray from the light."

Seungcheol scowls at you and then proceeds to maintain a ten-second glaring competition until he blows out a breath.

"Ten more reasons why I hate this bond so much," He mutters, before pulling out a business card and shoving it into your hands. "I've got ground rules. Don't call me for stupid reasons. Do not call to ask me out privately. Do not give my number to anyone for any reason. No exceptions, unless you want a bullet through your brain."

"Did you just threaten to shoot me...." You peruse the business card. "Choi Seungcheol?"

"Yes, and what about it?"

"You know nothing about being a gentleman."

"Never said I was one. Get in the car."

"You''re going to shoot me in there? With the expensive leather?"

"I will if you don't keep your mouth shut and start moving."

You zip it and follow him.

Success. You've met your soulmate. (You're sitting in his car, too.)

He said you couldn't call. But texting exists, so.... You're determined to bug him until he takes notice.

"It's me."

He leaves you on read.

The next day you add another message. "I guess I'll write to an empty chatroom. I'm doing good, I just had a sandwich for breakfast and I'm going to continue writing now."

5pm: "I'm done with my next chapter. Trying to find an illustrator for the cover. I'm craving soup."

11pm: "goodnight! hope your work or whatever's going well. You can't tell me anything about what you're doing?"

And so it continues, for a full three days, with silly texts about a sentence error you wrote, or a funny thing you ate, or asking him what he's doing at work, until you get a single response from him that has you rolling your eyes: "Be quiet."

You do not, to Seungcheol's chagrin, keep quiet.

He didn't think you could talk so much to someone who never replied. In a week he'd all but figured out your life pattern: wake up, eat, write (he had no idea what you were writing), find publishers and illustrators, take a walk maybe in the late afternoon, eat again, and write until it was time to sleep. You lead an awfully idyllic life compared to him, he thinks as he closes your text.

You also seem to have a love for soup, he realises. The weirdest fucking craving.

And croissants from his fake cafe. You sent him photos of it across the week, and he wonders how you never get tired of the damn thing. Your food cravings change from soup to something else every now and then, getting more bizarre with each one. (Pasta with pickles? Really?)

It was cute. (He cursed himself out after thinking about it.)

And so it goes for two more weeks until Seungcheol decides this has to stop. He texts you back for once, and you're elated as you read his text.

"Be ready Saturday night. Zip it for now, will you? I'm trying to work."

You're waiting outside your house when he pulls up. You already know that he knows exactly where you live, so you never bothered texting him your address. You get in once he stops the car, his grumpy face still on full display.

"Thanks for taking me out," You say, smiling at him, and he grunts as he pulls out and steps on the accelerator. "Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"

You shrug. "And you gave in. Is that a soulmate thing?"

"I will drop you off right this second if you say 'soulmate' one more time." He threatens.

He rubs the sleeve covering the skin on which his tattoo lies, and you frown. "Is it causing you trouble? I haven't gone anywhere weird recently, though."

"No. And you better not have."

He doesn't say much after that, simply drives about twenty minutes to a sleek, al fresco restaurant. The neon lights, warm-looking space draws you in, and when you read the menu outside while waiting for him to park...

"Soup? So you did read my texts!"

"You won't shut up about it. A little hard to miss it even if I wanted to."

You chuckle and flip through the menu. "So what're you getting?"

"You pick, you're the one craving soup of all things," He mutters absently. "Don't really care. Just came to get a message across."

"What is it?"

"Sit first before I tell you."

And so you do. He lets you get tomato soup and grilled cheese, pasta and a soda, and says absolutely nothing. He eats a little, rolling his eyes at the amount you inhale. Finally, you put down your fork. "So what did you want to tell me?"

He swallows his water before putting the glass down. "Just one thing."

You cock your head. "I'm listening."

"Why are you contacting me personally, so often? I'm sure I said not to do that."

"You said not to call," You reply, smiling. When he looks like he's about to protest, you smile again. "So I texted."

"You're fucking impossible," He mutters.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing. Anyway, stop that. I'm a busy man."

"I know. That's why I text, like, three times in a day. It's not a lot, is it?"

His hand comes down on the table, not loud enough to cause a scene but firm enough to catch your attention. "I don't have the time to entertain you, Miss Y/N. You know who I am, and that was my fault, and I think it would do you good to remember that."

"Pulling the mafia leader card on me, again?" You sigh and shake your head. "I don't know what you do, and you won't tell me. I write about people like you and mobsters. You're exactly what I write in my books."

"I am not one of your little book characters," Seungcheol hisses back. "I am not a work of fiction or something you pull out of your imagination and twist about like your plaything. I am real, and I am someone who can hurt you if I want to. And I don't owe you any information. Stop bothering me, got it?"

"Is that why you brought me here?" A surge of confidence and defiance grips you. He couldn't have taken you out to somewhere he knew you'd enjoy for no reason.

He scowls. “I can go wherever I want. Don’t read too much into it.”

You grin. “Sure.”

He nods.

“So can I continue messaging you?”

He groans. “Did you not get any of what I just said?”

You shrug. "Guess you’ll have to tell me a few more times.”

He sighs loudly, and his fingers drum the table as he seemingly goes deep into thought. The scowl is almost becoming a permanent fixture on his face, you think.

After a long moment, he groans and utters: “Next Sunday. 6pm.”

He takes you out two more times. The next Sunday, to a small restaurant you chose. This time he ate better, the consistent strain in his forehead almost easing as he bit into the lasagna.

He answered your questions, albeit grumpily, and when you got off his car that night, you thought, as you opened your journal up again, that he was finally, finally warming up to you.

But the next time he brings you out, he is visibly in a stormy mood, barely making conversation and stabbing his meat with his fork.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask.

“No.”

And there the conversation ends.

As dessert rolls in, you try one more time.

“So… how’s work lately?”

“Fine.”

“Ah.”

Please talk. Please.

“You know, I always wonder what a mafia boss does,” You pick up your spoon. “Like, order kills or something?”

Seungcheol picks up his glass. “I remember telling you not to ask about what I do.”

“And you don’t have to give me a full answer,” You shrug. “I’m just asking for a general idea. I thought it’d be nice if I got to know what you do.”

Seungcheol sits back in his seat. "Don't read too much into what I do, love." He takes another sip of water. "You can't honestly think I'm interested in you enough to reveal myself after a few meals. You said you're a writer. You shouldn't be this easy to lie to, you know that?"

Yeah, screw this.

Any confidence you had sizzles out. Easy to lie to. He thinks you're a gullible, small girl eating up every morsel of attention he deigns to give you when he feels like it. Red-hot, burning humiliation and shame rise in you.

After a long pause, you nod. "Alright. Fine. I get it. I apologise for occupying your time."

He surveys you for a second, then nods, like he just made a good business deal. "Just so we make things clear with each other."

"Crystal," You reply, no warmth in your words. "I think I finally got what you wanted to say. I thought you just weren't used to this... idea of having a soulmate, so I wanted to warm you up to it. But now I see you never wanted one in the first place."

Seungcheol furrows his brows just a fraction.

You push your chair back. You're careful not to look or seem angry, in part not to show him you're affected, and also to just... save face. He already embarrassed you. No need to do it again in public. "Take care, Mr. Choi. Thanks for putting up with me, anyway. It won't happen again. I’ll get the bill."

Soulmate, my ass.

----------------------------------

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to turn out this way.

Glass meets the plaster of the wall. His tattoo lies there, barren, lacking its usual warmth even though nothing was taken away.

----------------------------------

Ladies and gentlemen, this is perhaps how the story goes. He pushed her away, and she realised how the universe’s plan, this whole concept, had utterly failed. There were never meant to be pre-ordained people. People change, and oftentimes they disappoint…

The journal remains open, the last sentence discontinued.

T w o M o n t h s L a t e r

Soft, oozing vocals of Clara Bow fill your apartment as you pack your writing materials. You're done writing for the day.

You glance at the clock. Nine p.m. In time for a snack and TV before you head to bed.

When you turn on the TV, the news catches your attention. Another territory struggle, another turf battle for control. You shake your head and switch the channel. Typical.

As you settle down into the cushions with chips and a glass of white wine, sudden searing pain, hot and white and agonising, shoots down your arm. You gasp and grasp it in your other hand, almost keeling over at how painful it is.

Something is wrong. Very, very, wrong.

You sink to the floor, clutching your arm and sweat starting to bead your forehead. It hurts, your arm hurts, everything hurts.

Is Seungcheol in trouble?

His name card. Right. You can just find out for yourself, and if he asks, you could just say the tattoo's causing you a lot of pain. Yes. That's it.

You stagger to your drawers to find his card, messing everything up in the process. You fumble for your phone and dial his number, again and again and again, but all you’re greeted with is a beep and an automated voice instructing you to leave a message.

You don’t know what to do. No emergency contact, no one you can find… hell, you don’t even know where he is. As you’re standing, getting ready to run out and search, there's a pounding on your door.

You barely make it to the door and open it, and there stands the freckled, tan man whose name you never got. He looks awkward, eyes racing to your tattoo. "I'm sure you must be in a lot of pain," He says. "Mr. Choi ordered me to check on you."

"Check on me?" You almost wheeze. "What's going on that my arm hurts this badly?"

Lee shakes his head. "Not right now. We will talk in the van."

"Of course you can't say." You snap, patience wearing thin, temper as riled up as the pain in your arm. You're done with his secrets. "I can't know what he's doing, I can't know where he is, or if he's alive or dead, even if the pain he's causing may very well kill me too."

"You won't die," Lee says, a little more kindly. "If this comforts you, my soulmate's gone, and I'm still here."

Your anger evaporates a fraction. "I'm sorry about that."

"No need to be." Lee sighs, then reaches his own arm out. "Hold on to me, I won’t do anything weird. I'll take you to him. He's going to be a bitch when he sees you, but... I think it would be good for both of you. More often than not, distance breaks things apart."

"He's enough of a bitch even when I'm around," You mumble, but you take his arm anyway as he helps you out.

Without much effort, he gets you into the van he came in, and barks out an order to the curious men inside to drive into what he calls "The Heart".

"What's the Heart?" You ask, as he passes you a canteen of water to drink from.

"It's what it sounds like. The heart of our territory." Lee explains, eyes trained in front. "Mr. Choi's there when we... have scuffles, and that's usually the place where security is tightest, so he can be near to us to get updates and give orders, and still not get into danger."

"So he is a leader."

"He is, and one of those you wouldn't want to cross. He's quick with his work, and he can resort to getting his hands dirty if he has to. His network and connections are... frighteningly impressive, to say the least."

"Funny how I'm hearing it from you and not him," You huff as you lay your head back, trying not to think about the pain.

"He hasn't had the experience of telling people about his life, Miss," Lee chuckles. "But I figured you'll know eventually, so better sooner than later, right?"

"Sooner than later?"

"You're meant to stick around him, Miss. For the good and bad. You're his soulmate, after all."

"I don't know if we'll get there." You sigh, and close your eyes. "Is he badly hurt? Will me being there even help matters?"

Lee shrugs. "We'll find out."

Lee gets six men to flank you both as he walks you in. Up ahead, there's a building seemingly made of unforgiving steel, it's blank canvas looming in the dark red, streaked sky.

"That's the Heart?"

"That’s the one. Unpenetrable, Miss. Let's go in."

You pray for all your sakes it really is as Lee takes you up into the elevator. When he opens one of the (almost) hundreds of similar doors to lead to an empty, cell-like room, and inside sits Seungcheol, with a red fabric pressed---

"You're bleeding," You blurt. The pain in your arm subsides just a fraction, perhaps jarred by the sensation of finally, finally, meeting him.

He looks up, eyes twisting in furious shock as he glares at Lee, and then you (you don’t know why). "Exactly which part of my order did you not understand, Lee?"

Lee bows his head in apology. "I'll never take away a chance to meet your soulmate away, you know that, sir."

Seungcheol scowls hard, and you're almost afraid he's going to shoot Lee there and then.

"Get out."

Lee smiles, ushers you in and walks out. "I'll be back in half an hour to report. I'll call for the doctor again."

You bend and peel aside the fabric. Once white, it's now soaked red, it's warmth unsettling. There's blood, so much of it, and on his once unblemished skin now contains a mess of open flesh, blood, and a...

A bullet.

"A gun." You mumble.

"Try not to throw up." He replies, ever-so-gently nudging you away. "This is Armani."

"You jerk."

His face twists in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." The anger is returning. "You say all sorts of fucking nonsense to keep me away, and we meet again months later because you're shot. And that may be a normal day for you, Mr. Choi, but us civilians don't go about our day-to-day expecting a bullet hole to appear in our skin."

His hand clenches up.

"This is why I said everything I did," He snarls in return, putting more pressure on his wound. "I knew I would never want you to try to handle what I am!"

"You never let me try," You hiss. "You refused to tell me anything, to let me see what your life was like. No, you chose to shut me out! And don't you dare tell me what I can or can't handle."

He huffs. "I see no reason in dragging you, or anyone else, in when it isn't needed."

"Yet Lee brought me here tonight." You point out. "He knows something you clearly don't."

"Lee is a nosy fucker." He snaps.

"He's someone who's experienced it all. His soulmate is gone, Seungcheol."

"And look at the pain it caused him. At least if anything happens to me, it's no love lost for you."

"Shut up."

"What?"

"I said shut up. Sometimes people want to help you. Sometimes people wouldn't actually mind, I don't know, going into this Heart place to check on you. Sometimes, you need to get it into your thick skull that I actually want to be here, to make sure you don't die while this stupid snapdragon is burned into me!"

His eyes meet yours.

"But you won't get it!" You chuckle. "You send men to check on me when I’m in pain, but I doubt you have any intention of finding me after all this gets better."

"You think I wanted to?" He shoots back.

"And you think I had it all settled for me? That I was better off not knowing the person that was meant for me, this whole time?"

"I never wanted that." Seungcheol insists hotly. "Look at my world, it's a mess, a violent place, a--"

"And there has to be a reason I'm the one picked out!" You defend. "Do you have any idea what snapdragons stand for?"

When he doesn't reply, you continue. "It stands for grace and strength. I can handle all of this. I'm not meant to measure up with your headstrong personality anyway."

"Then what are you meant for?" He asks, tone now soft, dejected.

"To complement you," You reply. You've never been this sure in your life. "To make up for the traits you lack. I'm not supposed to be as strong, or as fierce as you are. I'm meant to... ground you. That's what soulmates are. To... allow each other's strengths to shine and make up for what they don't have yet."

Seungcheol goes quiet.

"And you?" He asks, after a long pause. "What do I complement you in?"

You survey him again. "That's something I can't discover yet, because you won't let me."

“So what do you suggest?” He continues.

“No more hiding. Show me who you are. No restraint, I don’t need you to keep anything secret.”

“What if you end up like Lee?”

“Then it would have been a life well spent, at least.”

Seungcheol grunts with effort as he leaves his seat and stumbles to you. "And if I obeyed, and let you in?"

You look at him square in the eye. "Then it would be my honour to stand with you... or in the shadows, or wherever you make me stand."

"This sounds a lot like an induction of one of my men," Seungcheol murmurs. "I don't want that."

"Then what do you want?" You ask softly.

Seungcheol looks down at you, emotions warring in his eyes. After a while, he slumps and turns away. “Fuck. I can’t do this to you.”

“Tell me what you want, Seungcheol,” You say quietly. “You order people around for a living. I’m telling you to be honest with me, too.”

"…You. With me. Wherever you, or I, want to be."

You shrug a little as he cups your face. "I can live with that."

"You better," Seungcheol mumbles, as his mouth finds yours at last, burning more than any wretched tattoo, warmth spreading to your fingertips. "After everything you just said... I don't imagine you're going anywhere for a while."

February 14, 2026

The doctor came to patch him up. His hand squeezed yours hard as the bullet was finally pried out of him.

It's honestly a blur to you now when you think about it, but all you remember is his eyes boring into yours, his unwavering, callused grip on your hand.

"The snapdragon symbolises strength and grace reflected in their tall, strong stems, blooms and resistance to colder temperatures. Others believe they also represent deception and deviousness.

She embodied grace. She was his missing piece, the trait he needed to complement his headstrong nature. But he also needed someone strong enough to stand with him, through every obstacle his work throws him in. And she... she needed his courage and unwavering will to stand with her through it all."

You put the pen down. Mmm. Not too bad for a closing chapter. You send a text to the new publishing house that you contacted two weeks ago. They had seen your draft, and they loved it. Two weeks from now, when everything is settled, you promise yourself, you will show Seungcheol. He'd been curious for a while now about what holed you up in your writing room.

"Love?"

You look up from biting into your croissant. "Well, look who's back from Sicily. How did the meetings go?"

Seungcheol smiles and opens his arms. "Not too bad. I suppose the love you share for novels, along with the Don's* wife, was a selling point. She was most keen on sending you," He cocks his head to the pile of books at his feet, "this. She said it'd make a good Valentines' gift, since I've been poor at accompanying you these few months."

"That sounds perfect. We're both suckers for romances."

As you sink into his embrace, the tattoo once again burns, but it's not the passionate, red-hot zealous heat. It's warm, comforting, like a hot chocolate in winter.

He sighs. "Happy Valentines', love. I'm going to lose my girl to a bunch of fictional mafia men again?"

"You know it."

"I still don't understand why. You have one right here, next to y-"

"Softer! Do you want the whole town to hear you?"

fin.

*Don = the highest role in an organised crime family

thank you for reading 💟

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[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HI ILY!!! i was wondering if u could do a argument fic likeeeee katsuki and reader got into a argument and they are both DISTRAUGHT bc they’re so corny and in love and hate fighting but the argument was bad and they’re oh so sad whatever whatever !! and katsuki has to make it up to them EEE !! PLEASE I LIVE EAT SLEEP AND BREATHE UR FANFICS !! LOVE U CASHHH🤍

operation : trouble in paradise !

katsuki tries to get his boyfriend privileges back..

EEEE TYSM AND I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS ASK !! Its my guilty pleasure like both parties hating to argue bc they love each other so much im so sorry that’s adorable. and again ty SOOO much !!! hope you enjoy, ive actually gotten a similar ask, so that one ill try to have that come out soon !

FEM READER, katsuki is melodramatic, argument, fluff fluff despite argument, 3rd year bk squad boys !, kissing, making up yipeee, reader likes flowers,lemme know if i missed sum else !

“she fuckin’ hates me.”

for the past ten minutes he’d barged into kirishima’s room, bakugou has been moping. wallowing, even.

“no she doesn’t, man..” kirishima reassured. for the umpteenth time, he’s honestly lost count. he’d tried putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder earlier but said boy had shrugged him off angrily, grumbling out a dramatic “don’t touch me.” despite being flopped face down on his bed.

“i know her better, kirishima. yes she does.” the blonde insists, voice muffled by the redhead’s pillows. kirishima sighs, patting his friends leg before making his way to his office chair across from the bed, ignoring the muffled grumbles bakugou lets out.

“how bout you just..go apologize ?”

“i already told you i can’t. she—”

“yeah, she hates you. got it.” kirishima finishes his friends sentence, causing the blond to groan. “look dude, you’ll never know unless you try. you’ve been together for ages now.”

“a year.” katsuki corrects, he purposely forgets to mention he knows exactly how many months it has been too. kirishima nods excitedly, trying to get him out of his frankly sad state. “yeah ! so, this shouldn’t be anything man. arguments happen all the time, no matter how much you love each other.”

katsuki feels his ears burn at the word love on his friends lips, he’s told you he loved you of course. but it still felt weird to acknowledge it.

he turns just enough for his scowl to be visible to his friend, who sends him an encouraging smile.

“so what the fuck do i do then ?” kirishima grins wider, sharp teeth on display. “there we go, that’s more like ya, dude !” he exclaims. he quickly shuffles to grab a notepad strewn onto his messy desk (kirishima’s desk was so messy it made katsuki itch sometimes, a shiver almost passes through him whenever he sees the state it’s in)

kirishima drops onto the floor, placing the notepad onto his mattress and scribbling, with a pen katsuki has no idea where he fished out, a messy “operation: get your bf privileges back !!!!!!” bakugou fixes kirishima with a dead look, the other only tilts his head, still cheerful.

“what ?”

“what the fuck is this, kirishima.”

kirishima scoffs at the blonde’s dead tone, “listen man, you wanna win your girlfriend back or not ?!” bakugou squints at him, hard. but only let’s out a loud sigh. kirishima takes that as his answer and with a nod continues writing down notes.

katsuki groans to himself, looking down at his friend scribbling down his grand plan, and he better hope it works.

maybe you should call him..

no, you won’t. it was his fault you were like this anyway.

..but maybe you went a bit too far..?

ugh. you groan, rolling around in your bed. you’d tried to distract yourself by going through your tiktok feed but it seemed the world was against you or your fbi agent hated your guts. your feed was either overly cutesy couples content that made you miss your angry blond, or break up videos that made you miss him even more.

ugh. you shove your head even harder in your pillows.

you’re really trying to hold your ground, because you want katsuki to know he’d hurt your feelings, but now that you think about it you don’t even remember what you’d argued about. it was petty for sure, you’re about 80% sure it was a petty argument.

maybe you should—

you shake your head, steeling your nerves. so what if it was a dumb argument ?! that didn’t mean he could get away with everything!

“uuuugh,” you groan out loud, you miss your katsuki.

a knock at your door startles you. it must be mina, you’d texted her earlier that you were mad at your boyfriend and she’d told you that she “excepted all the deets of what his dumbass did this time as SOON as i get back !!!!” and you were waiting, maybe venting about it could make you feel better and less dramatic.

you open your door expecting to see your overly excited best friend. but instead—

flowers, almost whacking you in the face you might add, are shoved in your face before you can get a word out. you squeak in shock, they’re pretty though, your favorites. and you know only one person who knows what your favorite flowers are.

“wh-katsuki ?!”

and there he is, red faced and angry. scowl on his face and bouquet of pretty flowers in hand.

you can’t tear your eyes away from him, he can’t keep his eyes in one spot—flying from you occasionally to your door to the flowers and repeat. he blinks, you blink.

“here.” he grunts, waving the flowers towards you. “f’r you.” he glances at you.

“o-oh !” you exclaim suddenly, whisking the flowers towards yourself. the bouquet is big, it’s definitely a bit bigger than your head. katsuki searches your face to gauge your reaction“i—uhm! thank you..” you utter shyly, katsuki grunts. he shoves his hands in his pockets the moment you’ve gripped the bouquet, kicking at something you can’t see on the floor.

your heart skips a beat. tentatively, you lean against the door “didn’t take you for a flower guy..”

he scoffs, kicking the toe of his sneakers against the floor “‘m not.. but you like these, right ?”

trick question. he knows you do, you mentioned in passing these were your favorites, unless you suddenly decided you didn’t like these anymore. then he’s fucked. but he decides to continue despite the worry growing in his lower belly, the plan was already a go now.

“i—uhm, listen..” your boyfriend fumbles, he throws his head back and groans when his words won’t come out right. you give him a tiny smile, his eyes soften just a bit.

“i fucked up, okay ?” he admits, scratching at his nape “shouldn’t have said all that shit to you, or whatever..” you can tell he’s beyond embarrassed. he’d melt if he could get any redder, he keeps scratching and won’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time and katsuki who’s always the loudest in the room can barely manage a mumble. you know he means it though, he never did anything he didn’t feel like doing. you wait for him to continue and he looks at you then.

“i don’t ever like arguing with you. ever.” he insists “so jus..forgive me, kay ?” he finishes quietly. your heart jumps and leaps and you can’t stand acting cold anymore. you walk a bit closer to him, the flowers block you from fully being close to him.

katsuki’s eyes are wide as you lean in to kiss right next to his lips, you laugh at his bewildered expression and his eyes soften when he snaps out of it. he rolls his eyes, you smile wider.

“i forgive you, i’m sorry too. i don’t like arguing with you either..” you admit, katsuki reaches for your hand, you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, you give it to him and he grips it tight. then he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, it’s a sweet little apology kiss that turns a bit too passionate after a while, and you pull him towards you and into your room away from prying eyes. katsuki kicks the door shut behind him and pulls you closer by your waist.

“guess i gotta—thank shitty hair..” he mumbles in between kisses, “an’ i owe him twenty bucks.”

you make a noise against his lips and pull away, raising a brow and holding his shoulders when he tries to lean in to kiss you again. “what’s that mean ?”

your boyfriend huffs “told shitty hair i’d give him twenty bucks if his shitty plan worked.”

“plan, what plan ?” you ask, katsuki squints at you, a grumbling noise comes from his throat, almost a whine.

“yer really gonna make me spell it out aren’t you..” he mutter bitterly, shoving his head in your neck. he continues, “shitty hair helped me come up with a plan to make you not mad at me anymore. i told him it wouldn’t work, he said it would, and we bet on it.”

you laugh in disbelief, katsuki chomps at your neck to silence you, squeezes his arms tighter around your stomach to make you wheeze, but you can’t stop laughing. “that’s so cute !”

“shaddup.” he growls in response. you muffle your giggles in his shoulder. katsuki grumbles some more and you run your hands up and down his back.

“well then,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his nape, his arms around you tighten. “i guess we’ll both have to thank kiri then.”

[mizxeclipze]

Bad idea

dbf!joel x f!reader.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

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summary: teasing joel while on a road trip to houston for a concert was a bad idea. especially with your father tagging along. 3.9k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (23/40), smut, unprotected piv, fingering, dirty talk??, shit load of pet names, banter??, gas stations, no use of y/n, cursing, readers father is oblivious ofc, not beta read we die like losers, uhh idk what else so if i missed anything lmk !!

a/n: omfg this took way longer to write than i'd hoped for but it's here !! it's not the best and it's truthfully my first fic i've completed, written, and posted so if it's horrible that's why. that and i've also never written smut before so this was definitely a learning experience, hopefully as time goes on i'll get better at it but for now it's fuck it we ball, live and learn, anyways enjoy this and also happy birthday to joel miller the loml <3

The tree leaves dance in the wind, a few cars crushing the ones that have fallen and blown into the street leaving only tiny pieces to scatter in the air. It's only the middle of August but the leaves have already started to change colors and fall. at least it's still warm out.

You've watched at least four cars pass since the time Joel was supposed to show up, your dad planned some overnight trip to a concert in Houston. You're all supposed to ride in Joel's truck – he'd offered to be the one to drive there and back – but he still isn't here.

Be nice if it was just you and Joel. It would be like a date, the two of you alone together, spending the day together and having the hotel room all to yourselves for the night.

But that could never happen.

You can hear him from where you're sitting on the porch. your dad. He's been on the phone for the past hour arguing with whoever, he'd gotten loud enough you'd sought reprieve outside, it's proven useless.

You're thankful when you spot the familiar black truck pull up along the sidewalk, you stand from the steps and make your way over to him as he steps out of the truck. “You're late,” you say.

Joel grabs up your bag, tossing it into the bed of the truck. You're not entirely sure how safe that is but you don't bring it up yet.

“Sorry baby, lost track of time and got stuck in traffic.” When he turns to you he leaves one hand on the bed and the other on his hip, you watch the way his hands flex, like he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you.

But your dad could walk out the door any second, so he doesn't.

You nod, giving a slight raise of your eyebrows. “Traffic,” is all you say.

“What?” He cocks his head, raising his own eyebrows questioningly.

“Nothing,” you mutter when you hear the screen door open and your dad's voice travels through the air.

“We ready?” he tosses his own bag in the bed, eyeing you two curiously. You both nod in confirmation. “Alright then, let's go.” He rounds the truck, hopping in the passenger's side.

You look at Joel who gives you an apologetic look as he opens the door behind the driver.

This is going to be a long trip.

Joel was right about the traffic, you spend thirty minutes waiting for it to move along the highway. You'd understood the plan of it being an overnight trip but at this rate it might as well be a two day trip.

“God damn, the hell’s takin’ so long?” You hear your dad say, finally breaking the silence that filled the car. “might have to stay longer at this rate, if we even make it,” he mutters.

“‘S why we left so early,” Joel says, there's a hint of agitation laced in his voice, no doubt from the traffic.

You feel the need to make it worse, poke the bear if you will.

“You were late,” you mumble, but you can tell he heard you from the glare you receive through the mirror.

The concert doesn't start till seven, you'd left early – far too early if you're being honest – enough so there was time to get ready, you aren't too sure how that will plan out now from the traffic but Houston isn't very far now.

You honestly wish it was just you and Joel. The car ride so far has been pretty boring, if it was just the two of you the ride wouldn't be so dull. Instead you've listened to your dad talk about sports and work while Joel nodded along, occasionally replying with a sentence or two.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you that all of Joel's attention was elsewhere. But you'd also be lying if you weren't about to make his life impossible.

Because that's exactly what you do.

It's honestly not a good idea, it's risky, but you're beyond caring at this point.

You reach over for your bag, grabbing out a few snack foods you'd packed earlier. You opt out of the chips, they're probably not the most sultry thing you could eat, instead you reach for the cream puff you'd bought a few days ago and forgot about.

You'd packed it for that reason, but now it has a new purpose.

The sound of the wrapping catches the two men's attention, your dad turns in his seat to see what the noise was when he spots the pastry between your hands. “Be careful with that, don't go makin’ a mess in Joel's truck,” he says, scolds almost.

You roll your eyes slightly. “I won't,” your eyes meet Joel's in the mirror, you smile at him as you take a bite of the puff.

His eyes track you, occasionally flitting back to the road. You can tell he's trying to figure out your game, not that it's too complicated to figure out.

You pull the pastry from your mouth, your other hand coming down to cup under your chin slightly. Joel's eyes are like daggers on you as he watches you, you can see the moment he spots the cream on your lips – you spotted it too.

Your tongue darts out slowly to lick at your lips, cleaning the mess left behind running your thumb along your bottom lip for extra measure. Joel stiffens in his seat, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking to the side as he watches your little performance.

You smile innocently, but you both know what you're doing.

“Light’s green bud,” your dad's voice booms, breaking Joel from his trance as his eyes move from the mirror back to the road.

You’ve stopped for gas twice now, the first time was before you’d left because Joel forgot to fill his truck up the night before. You’d be worried about not making it on time but you’ve made pretty decent time.

You’re about half way when Joel pulls into a gas station, pulling up to a pump and shutting off the car. The sound of the passenger door opening catches Joel's attention. “We all goin’?” he asks, looking back at your dad who’s already out of the car.

“Yeah, figured we could stretch our legs and all that,” your dad says, emphasizing his statement by stretching out his body.

You’re wondering about the candy section when your dad finds you. “Hey, Joel's outside filling the truck, you almost done?”

You scan the aisle one more time, snatching up a lollipop as you nod. “Yep, now I am,” you say, following him to the counter.

You swear the line takes forever, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a gas station so busy before, you stand next to your dad as he checks out, your eyes wander out one of the windows, you spot Joel almost immediately. His broad shoulders squared as he stands next to the pump.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, turning to see your dad gesturing towards the door. You follow him out, unwrapping the lollipop as you both make your way back to the truck. “Shit,” your dad mutters, ruffling through the plastic bag. “I'll be right back, forgot something.”

You nod, leaning against the side of the truck, watching as your dad jogs back into the store leaving you and Joel to finish filling the tank.

Your eyes catch Joel's, he’s standing at the bed of the truck his arms crossed along his chest, you watch the way his shirt stretches along with it.

You can tell he’s caught onto your game, has for a while now if the way the muscle in his jaw jumps says anything.

“The hell you doin’?”

You smile, pulling the sucker from your mouth with a pop. “What do you mean?”

Joel shakes his head, grabbing the pump and putting it back freeing up his pathway as he steps closer to you. “Don’t give me that, you know what I'm talking about,” he says, crowding your space slighting.

You look up at him through your lashes, doing your best to keep your expression unreadable. “You’re going to have to be specific joel,”

His jaw ticks to the side, scanning the area quickly before gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face upwards more as he leans in. “Your little stunt in the car with the cream puff, tryna get me hot and bothered, hm?” He whispers, his tone dropping an octave sending shivers down your back.

This is the closest he’s been in hours and he still isn’t close enough.

“Wanna get us caught, hm? Is that it?” His hand slides to the base of your throat, “let your daddy find out i’m fucking his daughter?”

You part your lips, his eyes drop at the movement, you want nothing more than for him to kiss you right now to run your hands through his hair while he all but devours you. He’s thinking the same, the way his hand tightens ever so slightly around your neck as his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes.

“Joel,” you breathe, you’re not sure what you’re trying to ask but you never get a chance before the sound of your dad’s voice causes you both to spring apart.

“Are we ready?” your dad asks, tossing his things in the car and looking at you both.

“Yep,” Joel clears his throat, running a hand across his face before getting in the truck.

Your legs are practically screaming at you, sitting in the back of a pickup for hours and then climbing a set of stairs is leaving your calves burning in the worst way.

You’d finally made it to the motel you’d be staying at for the night with plenty of time to spare thankfully. When you walk into the room you’re immediately met with the ac, it’s a relief on your skin from the hot air outside.

The room’s what you’d expect a motel room to be, two double beds spaced apart with two dark night stands next to them. They’re neatly made, meaning it’ll be a battle to get into. You venture further in the room, passing by the bathroom and heading towards another door within the room.

When you open the door you’re met with another room, it’s slightly smaller with no other way out of it than the main door, there’s a single double bed in the center of the room that’s made up the same way as the other two.

Conjoined rooms. It makes sense, you toss your things on the bed closing the door. You rummage around in your bag looking for the dress you’d packed, you didn’t pack a whole lot given that you weren’t staying for very long but now as you’re searching for something to wear it feels like you did.

You end up dumping the bag, your pajamas and make up layed out on the bed as you flatten out the wrinkles of your dress, it wasn’t anything too extravagant just a simple dress that fell just above your knees.

You’re just about to put your hair up to do your makeup when the door opens, you turn to see Joell standing in the doorway, his broad frame practically taking up the entire space. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d shown up this morning in, — save for the flannel he’d stripped himself of — a dark blue shirt that hugs his arms paired with dark washed jeans.

He stands leaning against the frame in silence as  his eyes rack up your body taking you in. “Y’look pretty,” he says, finally pushing off the frame taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

You watch his movements stood in the middle of the room, your heart rate picks up heat pooling in the bottom of your stomach from the way he’s looking at you. The atmosphere in the room is thick with need, you have half a mind to ask where your dad is.

“Oh, now you’re worried ‘bout your dad?” your eyes widen, you hadn’t thought you’d said that aloud. Joel crowds your space, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb under your chin as he tilts your head slightly.

“He left to get food, won’t be back for a little while,”

“It’s just us then?”

“Mhm,” 

You all but drag him down to your lips, your hands locked together around the back of his neck. Joel stumbles at your eagerness catching himself before he can fall, his hands falling to your waist bunching up your dress as he squeezes your sides.

You gasp softly when Joel pulls you closer, the prominent bulge of his cock digging into your hip, you grind your hips upwards seeking some sort of friction for the ache already forming between your legs.

Joel pulls away, you whine at the loss. “Should finish gettin’ ready sweetheart,” he mumbles, putting distance between you, his hands still firmly in place at your waist.

He’s teasing you now, getting you back for the car ride. But you’ve lost the patience to be teased right now, your core practically throbbing already and Joel is looking at you with a smug smirk well aware of the state you’re in.

“Joel,” you whine out, trying uselessly to pull him back towards you.

He raises his brows, keeping his distance. “Yes babygirl?” He says, rubbing circles along your sides.

“Please,” 

“Please what, darlin’?”

You groan in annoyance, if you weren’t so worked up you’d strangle him for making you beg, but you are. “Please, fuck me,”

Joel hums, looking up as if he’s contemplating, you’re certainly starting to reconsider strangling him. “Dunno know baby, might just make you wait til we get home,”

You could honestly start screaming, you’re running out of time and he’s just messing with you. You look up at him, his eyes already on you an almost amused look on his face.

You lay your hands on his shoulders as you plead. “Please. I’ll do anything just, please,”

“Yeah?” He steps closer, leading you backwards towards the bed, you nod slowly carefully walking til the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Joel lays you back, pushing whatever's on the bed to the floor as he follows you down, he nudges your legs apart so he can nestle himself between them. You wrap your hands around his neck again, pulling him down once more to your lips.

His mouth slots over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your body is on fire as his hands wander, sliding lower to where you need him most.

You moan into Joel's mouth, your hips grinding upwards as one of his hands slip under the hem of your dress finding your clit through the fabric of your underwear, damp from the slick leaking from your core.

He rubs gentle circles against your clit, kissing his way down your neck. You run your hands through his hair gripping the strands as you gasp and moan.

Joel pulls his hand away from your core, you whine at the loss, he pulls away from you, his hands sliding up your legs. His fingers slip under your waistband, pulling your underwear down off your legs and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Joel,” you squirm under him, his eyes flick back up to yours, he watches you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand slides back up your leg spreading them so he can nestle between them again.

“I know,” he rasps, two of his fingers running through your arousal, collecting the slick before sliding the two digits past your entrance slowly, your head falling back against the pillows as you moan softly.

He thrusts his fingers, a slow back and forth rhythm, curling them upward on every inward thrust. Your hips rock up encouraging him to move faster, every inward thrust paired with the rock your hips has Joel hitting the spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

His thumb finds your clit rubbing circles on the bud, your hands seek purchase on his shoulders, rumpling his shirt as you ball your fists. “This what you wanted, baby?” He taunts, pulling his fingers almost completely out then thrusting them back in.

You nod, your voice lost to the moans and gasps. “Could've asked ‘stead of teasin’ me all day,” Joel drawls, his voice thick with lust, his hips slowly rutting into the mattress.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” You finally breathe out.

You hear Joel grumble something under his breath, you don’t catch what before he’s back to thrusting his fingers at a fast pace, his hips grinding down matching the rhythm of his fingers.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, the warmth building at the bottom of your stomach. Joel can sense it too, his fingers working more determinedly, his thumb applying more pressure on your clit as he works to push you over the edge. “You gonna cum?” He drawls in your ear lowly, placing delicate kisses below your ear.

A soft moan elicits itself from your throat, nodding your head quickly, your toes curling up as your orgasm approaches. “Words darlin’,” he nips at your earlobe.

“y– ha – yes,”

“That's it babygirl, let go,” he coo’s gently, encouraging you, and you do. You grip Joel's arms, tossing your head back, your mouth agape, a chain of moans escaping. Your walls clench around his fingers, your body shuddering under the weight of your orgasm.

“There you go, good girl,” Joel praises softly, slowing his fingers as you come down from your high. He watches the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your body relaxing into the bed. You haven’t fully come down from your high before beginning to fumble with the button of his jeans, Joel's hand lays over yours stopping your movements. “Woah, slow down darlin’,” he chuckles.

You groan in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillows once more. “Joel.” you grumble.

“Ask nicely,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

You groan again looking up at him again. “Please,” 

He pulls your hand away, carefully pinning it above your head as he deftly works open the button of his pants, swiftly pushing them past his hips along with his underwear. You can tell he’s running out of patience — and time — to keep teasing you from the way he all but hurriedly frees his aching cock.

You watch as he strokes himself, a careful back and forth motion, his brows furrowed in pleasure. He nudges your legs further apart nestling his hips between your thighs, you wrap your legs around him pulling him closer to you. The head of his cock nudges against your clit eliciting a gasp.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes, closing his eyes tightly, his teeth grinding together slightly.

He lets out a breath, composing himself, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, sliding the tip along your folds and through arousal using it to slick himself up. Holding your breath everytime the tip catches your clit.

He does that a few more times, his cock only catching your entrance before pulling away. “Just, fuck me,” you huff irritatedly.

“Bein’ a real brat, y’know that?” Joel grumbles, lining his cock up with your entrance. “Should leave you like this, let you go to the concert soakin’,” he never gives you the chance to say anything before he’s pushing his hips forward, stretching you open.

You moan out your legs tightening around his hips, he sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping upwards, the head of his cock pushing further on every thrust.

Your hands find their way to Joel’s hair, pulling the strands as you toss your head back in pleasure, your eyes rolling backwards. Joel groans, his head falling on your chest, his hot breath ghosting the skin there.

The room was filled with both of your breaths, soft moans mixing with heavy groans as Joel fucked into your heat. His hand slides down your side, his thumb finding your clit once more drawing tight circles, your moans growing in pitch. Joel slots his mouth over yours, muffling your moans slightly in a heated kiss, your teeth clashing together.

“Be. Quiet.” He manages to gasp out between kisses. You mumble out what sounds like an affirmative, he moves down your neck leaving open mouthed kisses along the skin there, his teeth lightly nipping there. But he knows better than to leave any marks.

His hips continue to ground into you, his cock pushing further and further, his tip grazing against the spot inside you that leaves you breathless. “Yeah? Right there?” He quirks an eyebrow, watching as you bite your lower lip in an effort to muffle your moans.

You nod your head, unable to form any words, your walls tighten around him, you can feel yourself getting closer. His pace quickens, his hips pounding into you faster working vigorously to get you there before him. “Go on baby, le — fuck — let go,” he stutters, his hips faltering slightly.

Your legs tighten around his hips as your orgasm gets closer, the feel of his cock pushing you over the edge. Your walls clamp down, your legs practically going numb as your eyes rolling as pleasure washed over you. Joel’s movements slow as you come around him. “That’s it babygirl, there you go. Cum around me, good girl,” he soothes, a desperate moan escaping.

When you finally come down from your high Joel’s movements pick up speed again, working desperately to push himself over the edge he’d been teetering on for a while now.

You run your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, trailing kisses up his neck and below his ear, lightly biting the lobe as his hips begin to stutter. “Fuck darilin’, so fuckin’ pretty it hurts,” he rambles, his head falling to your shoulder.

He groans, his hips stopping as he cums, his warm load coating the inside of your walls. His body slackens slightly, careful not to put his weight on you. For a while the only sound filling the room is that of both your breaths.

After a few more bouts of silence Joel finally speaks up. “Should get cleaned up and finish gettin’ ready,” he says, groaning as he slowly pulls out, carefully tucking himself away before extracting himself from the bed. “C’mon,” he pats your leg, moving towards the door.

You sit up on your elbows, watching him from the bed. “What about my underwear?” You ask, Joel turns to face you from the doorway.

“What about them?” He doesn’t say anything else, never gives you the chance to say anything either before he’s out the door a smug smirk plastered across his face.

You stare out the door at a loss, eventually falling back against the bed, you know you should get up and finish getting ready before your dad gets back, but if you’re being honest you don’t think you could get up right now.

Instead you lay there staring at the ceiling, a ridiculous grin spread across your face. Teasing Joel with your dad around may have been a bad idea, but you’d do it again if it got you here.

[san8ny]

'HOLD IT DOWN, DARE!,

"You've got to press it on you, you've just been thinking!"

WARNINGS: mutual consent to recording, kissing, nervousness on Ellie’s part, size kink, dacryphilia, a bit of pretentiousness on readers end, tribbing/scissoring, strapping, lots of foreplay in the beginning, barely plot, slapping (both on face and..elsewhere), Ellie quite literally gets feelings fucked into her, hair-pulling, praise, cum-eating, spit-play, Reader collects donations while Ellie goes dumb on a machine at one point, JUST a buncha whores tbh..lmk what i miss k?

“so..” you murmur, picking up your phone and going through the settings, apps—anything to make this moment a bit bareable,

“so!” She chirps back, green eyes sheening over with excitement, trying to not let the scenery of the dingy denny’s you were both in distract you from all the comments that led up to this very moment.

The girl across from you clears her throat, cracking a small smile as she places her own phone facedown, “I..uh, have never, like..—like, done this ever so it’s..”She trails off, nervously scratching her neck

You feign faux shock at this, picking up a small fry inbetween your own acrylic nails from her tray with a small ‘no? ..really?’ as you pop it into your mouth, chewing as you stare her down, “never?”

“Never.” She gulps, hoping you don’t catch the way she rubs her thighs together pathetically at the sarcastic pout you had on, she had it bad.

You hum a bit as you nod your head, “Hm..that’ll bring in more views. You’re not like..you’re not like a virgin..right?”

Silence.

“No..” She chuckles, “Funny story, I lost it at—“

“Don’t care. Anyways, your place or mine?” You swiftly cut her off, smiling as you tilt your pretty little head up at her, almost as if you didn’t rudely interrupt her,

“W-we can do min—“

“Mine it is.” You interrupt her once more, digging into your purse and taking out a compact mirror before snapping it close when you decide you look presentable to leave,

“Tomorrow at 7?” You reiterate as you lift yourself out of the booth chair,

“Yeah..yeah, 7 AM?”

..

“No, in the PM, who makes porn in the morning?”

“I-it was a joke..” Ellie nervously coughs, clasping her palms

“Oh. Ohhhh..good joke. Bye Nellie!” You wave as you pat her shoulder on the way out,

“it’s..Ellie.” The auburnette sighs, evidently star-struck and dazed as she caresses the shoulder you’d just given her the glory as to graze, her eyes fixed on the way heads turn as you make your way out of the door, some dudes going out of there way to open it for you,

“Guess Nellie is a good name too.” She shrugs, jerking back some more fries.

That following week, Ellie sits comfortably on your bed, though a bit stiff when you begin to roll the cameras.

“Nervous?” You whisper, walking on over to where she sat, nodding softly when you run your fingers up and down her calves.

“That’s okay, sweetgirl, ‘just focus on me..” You utter under your breath, beginning to kiss down her neck ever so gently like she were to break; to say Ellie was calm was an understatement, she was absolutely about to break her composure each time she felt your lips on her skin.

Like that, the donations start pinging.

“Why don’t you read some of the comments out f’me?” Ellie groans, cocking her neck back as your palms begin massaging her breasts under the t-shirt she had on, nonetheless, she obliges, with reading a few of the earlier ones out.

“T-they’re calling me a whore..” She says breathlessly, her chest heaving as you begin to push her onto your bed.

“And are you?”

She hesitates before nodding her head.

It’s minutes before your entire demeanor with her switches, cruely making her sit inbetween your legs infront of the camera as you laugh in her face, “God..look how wet she’s got already?’ This is who you wanted over Anderson? You guys amuse me..”

Ellie’s head rests on your shoulder as you play with her messy folds, hooking a finger on the elastic band and letting it go with a snap, she looks already so out of it by the time you lay her back down, spreading her thighs as you align your face with her mound,

“She’s actually such a slut..” You croon your head to the side, leaning in to read the comments,

“Slap her?” You laugh at the suggestion, turning back to Ellie, “I don’t think my dirty girl minds, no?” Ellie whines, shaking her head as you harshly slap her cunt with 2 fingers, giggling when she raises her hips up to meet the impact in sheer desperation, “Send like, a hundred and maybe i’ll eat her out, deal?”

Just like that, 500 hundred dollars is directly sent as the text-to-speech automator blares off,

“Ooh, 500? Guess i’ll have to give you really good head, baby.” You fake-pout as you pull her panties off, “She’s so swollen..” You sigh, leaning back and taking some aloe-gel out of your cubby, returning to lay on your own tummy inbetween her legs as you slather the cooling ointment across her slit.

“P-please just get— ah..” Ellie trails off, eyes slightly fluttering shut when she feels your wet muscle prod at her cunt, messily swiping around like a credit card as your nose meets her hidden clit,

“Mm, tastes so good..”

You reach your arms forward, bunching up her shirt and pulling it up as you knead her small tits, nipples cold from the sudden air hitting them,

Ellie feels like she’s going to orgasm already when she gently raises her upperbody with her elbows, head feeling heavy when she makes direct eye-contact you.

It’s a messy scene, really, from the way you dart your tongue in and out of her sopping pussy to the way the girl rubs her cunt all over your face, she hasn’t felt this good since..well, ever

and here she was, sharing this moment with the hottest girl ever and her 200k followers.

“Y’wu still twhere?” you slur your words, face buried inbetween the chub of Ellie’s thighs with no escape as you snap your fingers, Ellie nods, crying out when you slam your said fingers into her unsuspecting hole with no ease,

You quickly sit up, digits still buried as you wrap an arm around her waist to secure her— your fingers pistoning into her pussy at a rate Ellie would equate to light-speed, “G—gonna! G’na!” Her eyes widen, feeling a hot burning sensation churn like molting lava in her stomach, hitting her fast when she begins to see white

You ignore her, shutting her up with a kiss as she absolutely drenches the bed, cum spurting out in twitches; you don’t let up on the prompted assault, simply holding her down firmer as she babbles uncontrollably,

Once it rides out, you take some deep breaths and drag a finger down your wet face, soiled with none other than Ellie’s fingers as you hold them to her. “Say ‘ahh’, doll.’ You say, humming when Ellie opens her mouth graciously, pressing them on her tongue as she threatens to moan, tasting herself.

“gooood girl...” You preen sitting up, untying your robe, “I’m feeling a bit jealous here, ellie. I made you feel good, only fair I get some in return.”

1,000USD SENT: lol scissor.

Ellie feels a moan errupt deep in her throat, thanking the gods at whatever subscriber requested that, finally about to feel your own swollen clit on hers,

excitement paints her face as you straddle her, her leg tossed on your shoulder as your pussies meet, kissing as both of your breaths hitch,

“Ah! Mm, god, feels so good..” You moan, arching your back slightly as Ellie’s lips form an O, gasping at just how warm and wet you were;

“Uh! Uh! Uh!— B-baby! Ohmygod ohmygod?!—“ She finds you shoving her leg off and instead pressing both of them to her chest as you rut into her,

This would be a long stream.

Ping!

“Another one thank you.”

Ping!

“Another one thank you.”

Ping!

“Another— gosh guys, I’m getting tired of thanking you all.” You chuckle, lips glistening with the sucker’s syrup as it’s wrapped around your lips, the noises of machinery in the back clear as day, “Oh Ellie? Yeah, she’s fineeee, ‘arentcha babe!” you spin in your swivel chair to face her,

she was flat on her stomach, arch backed up as the machine fucks a gorgeous silicone cock into her— drool pooling at the pillow her face was buried into as she hums shakingly, cum cascading down her thighs and onto your ruined sheets in a waterfall like motion,

You shake your head as you lean down to kiss her wet lips, petting her hair as you both sloppily makeout, exchanging saliva, “My pretty girl..you’ve had enough, yeah? So so so pretty when you cry..” to which Ellie nods, tired with her cheeks stained with unshed tears straining her dry-eyes,

“She’s cameeee…er, how many times now?” You ask the viewers,

@e11ie0: 10!

@Dickmaxxer: 8!

@Notmyrodrick5: just joined, hot tho

After some minutes and Ellie becoming increasingly overstimulated, you decide it’s enough money for one day,

Giving your followers a warm goodbye, you end the stream— shortly, also turning off the machine.

“D-did I do good? Did we meet the goal? Was I better than her?“ She whispers, almost afraid of her own raspy voice as you pull her off the machine and onto your lap, “Huh? Better tha— Oh..Abby? Fuck, so much better..” You soothe, kissing the crown of her head,

Sitting in silence with your warm plush arms around her, she meets your gaze with a certain softness,

“You’re really pretty you know..” She heaves, still catching her breath,

“so i’ve been told..”

“and I think I like you..alot..” She manages to let slip out, before shutting her eyes— this, this was why she’d never collabed with anyone. She falls too hard, and now you were going to push her away and hate her and shit-talk her and—

“Do you now?” you softly murmur, tracing along ellie’s forearm tattoo.

She peers up at you with teary eyes, “Can I stay over? I-i know it’s weird because collabs are—“

“Ellie, I wasn’t planning to kick you out.” You say, carrying her over to your bathroom for some well-needed aftercare and a good sleep.

"..You know my name," she finally says to herself in a hushed tonebbefore knocking out.

Safe to say your streams incorporated Ellie alot more now.

TAGLIST:

@macaroni676 , @mystellenia , @seraphicsentences , @sleepy-sheep-things @tohoko , @bearomanoff18 , @ellieswife4ever , @elliezlils11utt , @love4lyn , @sleepy-sheep-things @cattjull @strangepuppywerewolf, @emst4rr

[reidmarieprentiss]

hii. Idk if this is too weird/confusing… but

I have this idea of post prison reid and bau agent reader.. We all know that post-prison, reid is like different.. he’s more rough looking (??That beard, rolled up sleeves and disheveled look) but also carry himself with so much more confident? And how he gets more muscle. Overall just getting sexier. But we also know he’s got a lot of trauma bc of what happened. Maybe the reader is loving this whole changes, but as a gf, she’s also kind of worried about his wellbeing. Maybe when he caught the reader eyeing him and got distracted by how good he looks given everything (you can get a little suggestive), but it turns to a conversation about this whole ‘change’ thing??? you can go with it however you think best.

I just.. i think a lot about post-prison reid, how it feels like he burried most of his discomfort/trauma so quickly and idk maybe just started to put up this tough guy kind of ‘persona’ (at least for what i felt watching him in s13-s14 ish lol)

Anyways! You can write however you think best with this. Thankyou so much!! Love your work🫶🏻🥰 💜

Not Strong Enough

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: post prison Spencer, crying, showering together, prison flashback (kinda)

Word count: 1.7k

a/n: this was such a good request omgggg i hope you like it 🫶🏻 and thank you so much for trusting me to write it ! <3

main masterlist

The evening sun cast a warm, golden hue across the apartment you and Spencer shared, the place you had carefully maintained while he was away. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of the dinner you had prepared earlier. You were in the living room, absently flipping through a book, though your eyes kept drifting toward the doorway where you knew Spencer would appear any moment.

When he finally did, your breath caught in your throat for the hundredth time since his return. Spencer leaned against the doorframe, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those arms that had grown more defined during his time away. His hair was a bit longer, tousled in a way that seemed deliberate, and the beard—God, that beard—framed his face in a way that made him look both dangerous and irresistible. He had always been handsome, but now there was something different, something more rugged, more raw, about him.

You loved it. You couldn’t deny that every time you looked at him, a heat blossomed in your chest, and you often found yourself getting lost in daydreams that weren’t always appropriate. But beneath that attraction was a worry that gnawed at you, a concern for the man beneath the changes.

Spencer caught your gaze, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile as he pushed off the doorframe and walked over to you. “You’re staring,” he teased, his voice low, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck, but you didn’t look away. “Can you blame me?” you replied, letting your eyes travel up and down his body with unabashed appreciation. “You look… so good, Spencer. God. Really good.”

He chuckled softly, sitting down next to you on the couch, his presence commanding your full attention. “Is that so?” he asked, leaning in closer, his eyes darkening as they locked onto yours. “What’s so good about me?”

Your breath hitched at the proximity, and for a moment, you forgot the concern you had been harboring, lost in the way his presence seemed to envelop you. “You know exactly what I mean,” you murmured, your hand coming up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard against your fingers. “You’ve… changed. Not just how you look, but how you carry yourself. There’s this confidence, this… edge.

Spencer’s eyes softened, the playful glint fading as he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm. “I’m still me,” he said, though there was a note of uncertainty in his voice, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability you could sense just beneath the surface. “I know you are. But… I’m worried about you, Spencer. You went through so much, and I know you’re strong, but sometimes… it feels like you’re trying to be someone you’re not. Like you’re putting on this tough exterior to hide what’s really going on inside.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned back against the couch, his hand slipping into yours. “I guess… I had to be tough in there. It’s not easy to just turn that off, you know? And maybe… maybe it’s easier to pretend I’m okay than to face everything that happened.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart breaking a little at his words. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Spencer. You don’t have to be strong all the time. I love you, and I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Spencer looked at you, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, the mask he had been wearing since his return slipped, revealing the hurt and the fear that he had been burying deep inside. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared that if I let myself feel everything, it’ll break me.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, hoping to convey all the love and support you felt for him. “Then let me help you carry it,” you whispered against his lips. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

He kissed you back, deeper this time, his hands coming up to cup your face as if grounding himself in your presence. When he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen in a long time. “Thank you,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “For being here. For loving me, even like this.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Always,” you promised. “No matter what, I’m here.”

Spencer pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if you were the anchor keeping him from drifting away. And in that moment, you knew that no matter how much he had changed, no matter how much he tried to bury his pain, he would always be the man you loved. And you would be there, every step of the way, to help him find his way back to himself.

—

The sound of the shower running had become a comforting backdrop in your shared apartment, signaling Spencer's return to some semblance of normalcy. But tonight, something was different. As you passed by the bathroom, you heard the faintest sniffle, a sound so soft you almost dismissed it. Almost.

You paused, hand hovering over the doorknob as concern twisted in your chest. Slowly, you opened the door a crack, peeking inside to see Spencer standing under the spray, his back to you. His shoulders were hunched, and you could see the subtle shake in his frame as he tried to keep himself together.

"Spence? Baby?" you called gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gasped, the sound muffled by the water cascading over him. "Hi, darling. What's up?" His voice was strained, an obvious attempt to mask the turmoil you knew he was feeling.

"Are you okay?" you ventured, your heart aching as you waited for his response.

There was a long pause, the sound of the water the only thing filling the space between you. Finally, he sighed, the weight of it heavy with unspoken pain. "...No."

You stepped into the bathroom then, your concern outweighing any hesitation. "Can I come in?"

"In the shower?" His voice wavered.

"Yes, baby," you replied, letting a small, reassuring smile creep into your tone, hoping to ease his mind even just a little.

You heard his quiet "yeah" before you quickly stripped down, the urgency to comfort him overriding any other thought. When you stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over your skin, you found him standing still, his hands clenched at his sides, as if he were trying to hold himself together by sheer will alone.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. You held him close, your touch gentle but firm, grounding him in the present, away from whatever memories had resurfaced.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

Spencer's chest heaved with deep, shuddering breaths, the kind that come right before a sob breaks free. "I guess…I was just remembering what it was like to shower…there."

He didn’t need to say more. You knew what he meant, the horror of those confined spaces, the fear that had accompanied every moment, the helplessness that had seeped into his bones. Your heart ached for him, for the pain he was carrying, the trauma he was trying so hard to bury.

Gently, you spun him around, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears already mingling with the water on his face. You brought his head down to yours, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, lingering there as if you could somehow kiss away the memories, the pain.

"You’re home, you’re safe, and you survived," you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with all the love and reassurance you could muster.

He nodded, his breath hitching as the first sob escaped, his tears flowing freely now. You held him as he cried, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. He clung to you, his hands fisting in your hair, as if afraid to let go, afraid that if he did, the memories would swallow him whole.

But you held him, strong and steady as you whispered soothing words into his ear. "I’m here, Spence. I’m not going anywhere."

Minutes passed, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure. Time seemed to stand still as you held him, the water now running cold but neither of you caring. Eventually, Spencer’s sobs quieted, his breathing evening out as he rested his head against your shoulder, utterly spent.

You kissed the side of his head, gently guiding him to turn off the water. "Come on, let’s get you dried off."

He nodded, his movements slow, almost reluctant, as if he feared the weight of the world would crash back down the moment you let go. But you didn’t let go, not even for a second. You wrapped him in a towel, guiding him to the bed, where you both sat down, still wrapped around each other.

As you pulled the covers over you both, Spencer rested his head on your chest, his arms around your waist, holding you close. "Thank you for being here," he murmured, his voice hoarse from crying, but laced with gratitude.

You stroked his damp hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Thank you for coming back."

And as you held him close, you knew that no matter what demons he faced, no matter how broken he felt, you would be there, every step of the way, helping him piece himself back together. Because you loved him—every part of him, even the broken ones—and you would never let him face the darkness alone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle