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solarstranger · 2 days ago

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a/n. been seeing a lot of pregnancy/baby fever fics these days and while i'm all for the father versions of our blorbos and breeding kinks (lmfao), i'm someone who just can't see myself becoming a mother for multiple reasons. reposting this drabble from april for my girls who feel the same way. hope y'all enjoy this! (1.6k)

c.w. slightly heavy themes, references to abortion.

this wasn’t supposed to happen.

sneaking another glance at the stick in your right hand, it takes every ounce of the little energy you have left after what has been an arduous day at work to stay upright on your cold, bare feet.

it’s ridiculous—you know that—but you still find yourself blinking once, then twice, as if doing so as deliberately as you could would make the tauntingly faint yet present second line disappear before your eyes.

you tamp down the panic—or bile, you don’t fucking know—that’s rising to your throat, while your gaze remains fixed on the pregnancy test.

which reminds you.

you’re shaking.

why are you shaking?

…right, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

jesus. is this the pregnancy already at work? the brain fog that they say plagues a good percentage of women carrying a—fuck, you can’t even say it—fetus?

whatever answer was lying in the deep recesses of your brain doesn’t get to see the light of day, because your head snaps up in attention when you hear the telltale turning of the keys at your front door.

shit.

frantic, your eyes dart around the bathroom, before ultimately landing on the boxes containing the three different brands of pregnancy tests you hastily bought from the drugstore on the way home. you grab for them in record time, stuffing them behind the rolls of tissues on the shelves above the toilet. it’s not the perfect hiding spot, but it’s good enough—at least until you muster up the courage to tell katsuki the truth.

katsuki.

god. what’s he going to say?

“babe?”

—aside from that.

“over here!” you barely manage to call out, shoving the stick into your pocket.

the faint sound of footsteps grows from a subtle pattering to loud thuds as the man approaches, and you find yourself waiting with bated breath—one that you release not so inconspicuously the second he emerges by the door, a perplexed expression decorating his sharp features.

“what’re you doing here?” he asks, voice gruff, although he doesn’t wait for a response before pulling you in for a hug. despite your fried nerves, you find yourself relaxing in his arms as the heady smell of the body wash he keeps at the agency fills your lungs.

“had to pee,” you answer—half-truthfully—against his chest, keeping your body plastered against his firm yet warm frame. and, for a brief moment, you forget the predicament you were just in—safe and content in his presence—

right up until you feel a hand slide down to caress your side, and despite yourself, you stiffen.

you don’t have to look up to know bakugou’s frowning.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his tone riddled with hurt but mostly caution. it pains you to hear him like this—you promised yourself you’d make him feel as secure with you as you are with him—but you still refuse to meet his gaze.

and when you don’t respond nor move: “look at me.”

now, you were never the kind to deny him of anything—even if you wanted to at times—so you do.

excruciatingly slowly, but you do.

suddenly, you’re thankful bakugou’s gripping onto your waist, because you’re certain you’d collapse from the sheer intensity of his stare if he wasn't. you try to smile in an attempt to reassure him, but your mouth only wobbles awkwardly as tears start to well in the corners of your eyes, causing bakugou’s frown to deepen even further.

“baby,” he mumbles—coaxes—the softness juxtaposing against his earlier sternness. your eyes flutter closed for a moment as a scarred hand shoots up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, before returning to where it’s taken residence at your hips.

you take a shuddering breath.

you don’t know what takes over you, but what you end up blurting is—

“promise me you won’t get mad.”

at that, bakugou’s eyebrows furrow. “the fuck?”

—which, if anyone can believe it, is a valid response.

because sure, bakugou’s been frustrated with you, sometimes even exasperated—although that rarely ever happens—but never mad. he once said he couldn’t find it in him to direct any of his anger toward you, and he’s never said anything truer.

and you know that, which is why you don’t know why you even said that thing just now. but you have no idea how else to preface what you’re about to tell him, let alone soften the blow.

when something tells you he’s not even going to take it as a blow…

“remember when i asked you to buy me some painkillers to prepare for my period?”

“…yeah?”

you gulp, fisting his shirt. “that was over three weeks ago.”

the crease in his forehead doesn’t let up. “okay?”

sighing, you close your eyes.

fuck it.

there’s no turning back from this one.

“y/n, what are you trying to—”

“i still haven’t had it,” you cut in. and when bakugou only blinks at you, seemingly shell-shocked, you finally say it.

“i’m pregnant.”

realistically, it must have only been around a minute that passed with neither of you uttering a word, but the silence that ensues feels like an eternity, as a whirlwind of emotions dances across bakugou’s face—emotions that you don’t even dare try to pinpoint.

it takes him another beat to seemingly gather his thoughts together, before clearing his throat that you think has gone dry in flat-out surprise. his gaze then darts down to your stomach, and you have to stop yourself from reflexively touching it, even as he looks back up at you.

and when he does speak up, the first thing he says is—

“are you sure?”

to that, you only nod reluctantly, gingerly taking out the stick from your pocket for him to see. you pass it to him, continuing as he examines the red lines. “i took three. all different brands.”

“and each one came out…?”

“positive, yeah.”

you watch him as he nods—more to himself than at you—before placing the device carefully on the sink. you can practically see the gears in his head turning as he straightens up to face you, expression betraying how hard he’s thinking about this.

and fuck if this ends up biting you in the ass, but damn it—you need to know.

so you ask.

“w-what—” you start, pausing to cough, and bakugou’s quick to lean in and rub soothing circles at your back. you wave him off with a grateful look a moment later, to which he takes in stride as he steps back, gazing at you expectantly.

“i was just gonna ask,” you rasp hastily, fighting the tightening sensation at your throat. “what are you thinking right now?”

“about—”

“about this,” you supply, rubbing your stomach absentmindedly. “us. pregnant.”

bakugou hesitates. “i’m thinking about how you are—”

“i’m not asking about me. i’m asking about you.”

there.

you said it.

and you don’t know where else to chalk it up aside from his general acuity, but it only takes a second for the plain bewilderment that etched itself across bakugou’s face to morph into palpable realization. you stare at him as he sits in the implications of your question, and even more so as he struggles to find the right words to say.

finally, and after what feels like ages, bakugou settles with five simple words:

“you know what i think.”

and with those words comes an avalanche-like weight crashing on your shoulders, and before he can continue, you beat him to it. say the two things that instantly flooded your mind the instant you felt a wave of unfounded nausea earlier this morning.

one: “i’m not ready, kats.”

and, two: “i don’t think i’ll ever be ready.”

to your un-surprise and chagrin, bakugou merely nods and takes your hands in his, as if he’s been expecting this. “that’s okay, babe.”

“no, it’s not,” you argue, although you don’t wrangle away from his grip. you need to make the most of the contact you’re blessed enough to have right now, especially given what you’re about to say.

shaking your head, you let your eyes droop to your entangled hands. “it’s not too late, kats,” you whisper, “i’ll understand if you want to break u—”

“don’t.”

“but—”

“don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” bakugou growls.

you look up, and it takes everything within you to not break down at the sight of your boyfriend’s face.

“i told you,” he begins, his hold on you tightening, “you know what i think. but i want what you want. and—”

“but your dream of—”

“—and, there’s nothing i want more than to be with you.”

and at that, you can’t help it—you whimper as the tears you’ve been desperately holding finally stream down your face, and you don’t resist—letting yourself get scooped up in bakugou’s arms and into a crushing embrace.

“…i’m sorry,” you mumble into his shirt after a few beats of comforting silence, his strong arms wrapped tightly around your torso.

“there’s nothing to be sorry for,” bakugou mouths against your head.

“i wanted to be everything you could ask for,” you admit quietly.

shamefully.

and you know it’s going to take some time—some time to come to terms with falling short, with not meeting important expectations, especially with the person you love.

but then bakugou says something under his breath, and somehow, you get the feeling that everything’s going to be okay.

“you already are, baby,” you feel him smile. “you already are.”

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

#ironically posting this on the first day of my period. i already have my painkillers with me lol #sadly not bought by my boyfriend because i don't have one </3 #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #re: bakugou katsuki #eeya.docx

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hawkinsbnbg · 11 months ago

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It was a well-known secret that Jonathan Byers sold Steve Harrington’s photos at cutthroat prices to the students of Hawkins High.

People wanted to get mad at it but a picture of shirtless Steve in tiny green shorts was enough to silence their protests.

Although his buyers ranged from all genders, Jonathan wasn’t surprised at all. Because he, too, was a victim of that Harrington Charm—the very reason he had started collecting every picture of Steve in the first place.

His side business was just a front for him to do so without being harrassed by Tommy H. who, ironically, was one of his regulars.

And why was it a well-known secret?

Well, because Steve had no idea about it.

In a rare sense of solidarity, the whole school had joined forces and done their best to keep their king out of the loop.

(Even Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson—who loved to run his mouth—seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and managed to keep the secret.)

Jonathan had never enjoyed photography more in his life.

When Steve eventually figured it out, he was surprisingly willing to let Jonathan take more… audacious photos of him.

Suffice to say, the profit had skyrocketed once Jonathan found the right group of customers.

(i.e. Eddie Munson had paid for the Bunny Collection with three bags of weeds, Tommy H. had paid a hefty amount for more Stockings, and Billy Hargrove kept coming back for Higheels & Lipstick.)

#pre steddie #jonathan byers #steve harrington #stonathan #oblivious steve harrington #cunty steve harrington #secret admirer jonathan byers #petty business man jonathan byers #jonathan stands in some hidden corners & hands out steve's pics to every student comes to buy from him like a seasoned dealer selling drugs #eddie is still bitter that he couldn't buy all of the pics although he already owns three thick albums dedicated for steve #robin also bought a few out of curiosity and ended up keeping them all bc she didn't have the heart to throw them away #robin: omg this dude has the most pitiful puppy eyes ever how is that fair??#sionewrites

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