#instead of crying tears no one else but me would know when everyone's asleep

[strawnarrries]

We Fight, We Make Up

Summary: Harry gets turned on when you yell at him.

Requested: Nope

POV: 2nd

Word count: 3.4k

Warning(s): Unprotected sex, slight degradation, slight spanking

The argument happened before the night even started. You didn't even wanna go. You wanted to stay in the hotel with your husband. Alone. Without having to share him with anyone else. Recently, you have been missing him. Yes, you see him every day and fall asleep with him every night; but you felt like you had to share him with the entire world. When he wasn't on stage in front of his thousands of fans, he was either at the gym or working with his team, writing new songs, and talking about new plans.

Tonight was one of his rare nights off and of course, he and his team wanted to go out. He wanted you to go with him and you did, but you were grumpy from the moment he brought it up to the moment you're at with him now.

You were arguing while you got ready. Harry didn't understand where you were coming from. You were on tour with him. You were with him every day, went everywhere that he went, and got to sleep next to him every night. He thought you were being a bit needy and selfish. He didn't say that to you of course, but he definitely voiced that he thought you were being irrational.

Once you had met everyone in the hotel lobby, you both put on your brave faces, not wanting to draw any attention to your problems. You tried to forget about your current struggles and have fun while you could. Neither of you drank that much. You just were not in the mood and Harry had a show the next day. It was only occasional that he would drink while on tour, but never when he had a show the next day.

Once the night was over, the argument continued.

"Y/N, baby, I dunno what you want me to do. We're on tour, this is my work. I can't spend every second with you."

"Oh my god, Harry. You know I'm not asking you to spend every second with me. I just want some alone time with you. I told you I feel like I have to share you with everyone and never get any time just you and me."

"But we do get alone time. We got a whole room to ourselves. I give you a cuddle while we fall asleep every night. Why is that not enough?"

"It's not about being enough. It's about me feeling like you're not prioritizing me or wanting to spend any time with me."

"This is the first tour that you've been able to come with me for every show. This is what it's like. I don't get alone time. This is my job. I can't just drop it all to spend time with you."

You were starting to get angry, "You don't work every hour of the day! Tonight - I told you beforehand that I didn't wanna go and I wanted to stay here with you but you wanted to go out instead."

"Well, yeah because I've got a night off and wanted to have fun with everyone."

"Exactly! Everyone. You didn't wanna spend time with me. You spend time with them every fucking day and the one day you have off you choose to be with them."

"Y/N, you-" he started before you cut him off, your voice raising in frustration, "Harry, you're my fucking husband! I shouldn't have to beg you to spend time with just me!"

All of a sudden, a cheeky, slightly evil smirk arose on his lips and his eyes scanned your body up and down. It was very rare that you got angry when you argue with him, you usually just get really sad. Your disagreements are usually quiet and filled with tears. It was your least favorite thing to do. You hated having serious conversations with Harry and couldn't help but cry when they happened. Harry was a sympathetic cryer so when you cried, he cried. In the 10 years that you and Harry have been together, you only yelled at him in an argument probably 4 times. So, he found this moment quite amusing.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?"

"I'm not," he chuckled looking up at your angry eyes.

He kept that smirk on his lips as he stared at you deeply, your blood beginning to boil as a breathy giggle left his lips.

"Oh my god, I'm so sick of this," you snapped, turning around and getting ready to storm into the bathroom.

"Y/N, stop."

He was quick to grab your arm, pulling him into you and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you from running from him. Placing both hands on his hips, you glared up at him, "What?"

He didn't reply, his eyes bore into yours while he was pushing your hips against his, jutting his out to show you exactly what he was feeling. You could feel his tight bulge straining in his slacks against your pelvis and you could not believe what was happening.

"You're hard?" you replied as your lips mindlessly curved up in amusement, "Why?"

"Dunno, you rarely yell at me when we argue. It's kinda sexy," he replied, his voice slow and deep.

"What?" You were the one laughing now, "You're not supposed to get turned on. You're supposed to get pissed at me."

"I am pissed at you. But you're fuckin' cute when you get angry." He looked you up and down once more before adding, "Might be this outfit too."

"Oh my gosh, I wanna be mad at you so bad because of this but I'm really amused."

"Are we about to have angry sex?"

You didn't even answer him. You immediately pulled him down by the back of his neck and attacked his lips with yours. He kissed you back, moving in sync with you. His tongue caressed your lips, tasting you as you backed him up against the edge of the bed. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he immediately sat down, pulling you with him. Pulling your dress up past your hips so you could spread your legs, you straddled his lap. His hands immediately went to your ass, cupping and squeezing it.

You continued to kiss him, making out like you were teenagers. Your kisses were fast and sloppy, your panties dampening as you ground your hips against his center. You ran your fingers through his dark hair, tugging at the soft strands gently. You felt your clit throbbing in anticipation and you knew you couldn't wait too long before he filled you up.

Your hands frantically slid down his body, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You had been so upset with him, you had overlooked how good he looked tonight. He wore a white button-up, only having the bottom two buttons tied together to show off his tanned, tattooed chest. He paired it with a pair of black slack pants and white loafers that he had slipped off the moment you got back to your room. He had his famous cross and phallic banana necklaces on and had rings lined on almost every one of his fingers.

You slid his top off of his shoulders and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. His glistening skin and dark tattoos were now on full display for you. You ran your fingernails across his body, feeling every inch of his torso that you could reach. You continued to grind your center against his, circling your hips so his bulge rubbed perfectly against your clothed clit.

"I want you so bad," he breathed out and you hummed against his lips in agreement.

His fingertips grabbed onto the hem of your silky dress and pulled it up over your head, tossing it with his shirt. Your lips only parted to pull the dress off, immediately attaching again once you were exposed to him. His hands reached behind your back and unclasped your strapless bra with ease, letting it fall onto your lap. After grabbing it and tossing it, his hands cupped both breasts and kneaded them harshly.

His kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck, kissing, nipping, and sucking at all your sweet spots. You let your head fall to the side to give him more access and hummed in satisfaction. His lips trailed even further down until they latched onto your right breast. He sucked at your nipple, hand still kneading your left one. Flicking his tongue back and forth against your bud, your back arched into him. Nibbling on it, you whimpered and he pulled away, giving your other breast the same amount of attention.

Returning back to your lips, he tugged on the band of your panties, acknowledging that he wanted them off. You stood up in between his legs and pulled your panties down your legs, letting them pool at your feet. While you did that, he unbuttoned the button on his pants, lifted his hips, pushed them down his thighs, and pulled them off his legs.

Both of you were now completely naked and exposed to each other. You straddled his lap again and he reached down between your bodies, sliding his fingers between your folds to feel your wetness. He groaned softly as his middle finger and ring finger slipped past your opening with ease. You mimicked his moan when his fingers began to move in and out of you, the coldness of his peace ring and his pearl ring sending chills up your spine.

"Jesus, Y/N, I'm so fuckin' horny right now," he groaned desperately.

"I need you inside me," you whimpered into his ear, equally as desperate, "right now, Harry, please."

"C'mere," he hummed.

Pulling his fingers out of you, he wrapped his arms around you and stood up. Turning around, he laid you down on the sheets with your hips at the edge of the bed while standing in between your spread legs. He grasped onto both of your ankles and hooked them around his shoulders. Wrapping his right palm around his member, he wasted no time and immediately positioned his swollen tip at your entrance, sliding in while he hovered over you. You both let out moans at the euphoric feeling of him filling you up. He stilled inside of you, allowing you a minute to adjust to his size. His forehead rested against yours and he grunted softly when he felt you clench around him.

Leaning back up, he grabbed onto each of your thighs to ground you. Not holding anything back, he began thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. He knew your body like the back of his hand. Knew every single one of your sweet spots and every single movement that made you putty in his hands.

His thighs slapped against yours and your breasts bobbed with each hard thrust of his hips. Your orgasm was quickly starting to grow closer and you found yourself clenching around him each time his tip brushed up against your good spot. Your face contorted with pleasure and you tightly gripped the sheets below you.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered softly, "Harry, yes!"

"Is this what you wanted?" he grunted in between stagged breaths, "Just wanted me to fuck you like this?"

His fingertips dug into the skin of your thighs, most likely leaving marks for you to complain about the next morning. The bed squeaked under you and you knew the backs of your thighs were quickly turning bright red with the repetitive slapping. It was purely a pornographic scene and you were in complete and utter bliss.

"Answer me."

"Yes, yes," you chanted, "I needed this so bad. Needed you, Harry."

Lifting your head slightly, you looked down and watched as he disappeared in and out of you. He was slick with you, sparkling against the light in the room. You could physically hear how wet you are for him. His movements intensify that sound with each thrust. You let your head fall back down to the bed and look up at him. He's looking down between your bodies, watching what you were just watching. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his jaw hung slack as he breathed irregularly.

You watched as his muscles clenched with each thrust, a sheen layer of sweat beginning to form on his skin, glittering his tattoos. You let your eyes squeeze shut as the pleasure grew. You felt his left hand leave your thigh and immediately grasp onto your breast, squeezing it and allowing his thumb and pointer finger to pinch at your nipples.

Without warning, he wrapped his hands around your sides and flipped you over so you were on your belly. He tapped your hip gently, acknowledging you to sit up. Resting your elbows on the sheets to support your body, you stuck your ass up in the air for him, leaning back and pressing into him. He positioned at your entrance again and started back up where he had left off.

The sound of his skin slapping and your wetness continued to echo loudly throughout the room and if he wasn't making you feel so damn good right now, you would be worried about people outside the room hearing.

"Talk to me. This is exactly what you fuckin' wanted so tell me how good I'm making you feel."

"No," you whimpered, trying to get a rise out of him, "you don't love me anymore."

"Say that one more time and I'll spank you 'till you cry," he grunted.

You grinned at his words. You knew he wouldn't actually spank you until you cried, but you wanted to challenge him, "I'm not wrong."

His hand swatted at the fullest part of your ass and you squealed at the slight sting, his rings he never took off intensifying that sting. He never spanked you super hard, just enough to get you to straighten up when you were being sassy with him.

"Wanna try me again?"

"You never give me attention anymore."

Another spank landed across your ass and you moaned, his hand massaging the area to soothe the sting, "You're such a brat. You're asking for it now, aren't you?"

After one more smack against your skin, he grunted and his thrusts came to an abrupt stop. You were about to protest but then felt his big hands collecting your hair. He switched all of it to one hand, holding it up into a ponytail. He tugged on it, pulling your head back so that he could easily lean down to nip at your ear lobe and you couldn't help the moan that left your lips. Using his free hand, he grabbed onto your hip again and began thrusting.

"Want me all to yourself all the fuckin' time, huh?" he growled into your ear, sending shivers up your spine.

"You're mine," you moaned, "Don't like sharing you."

"Fuckin' selfish is what you are," he grunted in your ear, "Can't get enough of me, huh?"

You moaned in response, breath hitching in your throat before he continued, "Got people wanting my attention left and right and you only want me for yourself. I can see why though, with how good I make you feel. Not once have I ever failed to have you fuckin' trembling under me, babe."

"You're such a fucking narcissist," you grunted, words coming out strangled.

He chuckled deeply, biting on the shell of your ear, "It's the sole reason why you married me, innit? 'cause of how easy I can get you to scream my name?"

"Fuck off," you groaned and he chuckled again, loving how he got to you.

"Got the sexiest girl in the world to be my wife. How can I not be narcissistic?"

"Mmm," you whimpered, ignoring him, "Want more."

"More? Am I not giving you enough right now?"

"No, gimme more."

"Greedy, greedy girl. You're my greedy girl though, that right?"

You hummed in agreement as he let go of your hair, your head immediately hanging low. With both hands now on your hips, fingertips gripping your skin tightly, he changed his rhythm. Fast and hard. Exactly what you wanted right now.

"I'll give you whatever you want. Got me wrapped around your little finger."

"Obviously not, or else we wouldn't be in this situation right now," you grunted in sync with the smack of his hips against yours.

"Still mad at me, huh?"

"Just shut up and make me cum," you groaned.

You heard him chuckle behind you as he kept his rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm by the second. His thighs smacked against yours and the sound echoed throughout your hotel room. Your breath was hitched in your throat, your face contorted with pleasure and your jaw slack as moans occasionally escaped when your hitched breath allowed.

He got so deep inside you, hitting your special spot just underneath where your clit was located with each thrust of his powerful hips. His fingers were gripping your hips tightly, nails carving crescent moon shapes within your skin. Your clenched around him and you could feel every inch of him moving against your walls.

"Oh, Harry," you whimpered into the sheets and Harry's heart swelled as he noticed how much you needed this. How much you needed him.

With the length of his thrusts shortening and pace only slowing down slightly, he leaned down and pressed his back against yours, cupping your waist to pull him into you.

"Haven't been giving you the attention you deserve, have I, baby?" he grunted into your ear, words in sync with his thrusts.

"Mm mm," you whimpered, his lips against the shell of your ear making you shiver.

"Been neglecting my favorite person in the world. My beautiful wife, fuck, I love you so much."

You couldn't even reply. Your voice wouldn't let you, the only thing you could get out was moans of pure pleasure by not only him inside of you, but also him finally giving you exactly what he wanted. His hands slid up your torso and gripped your breasts, squeezing them as his thumbs flicked over your nipples. You could tell he was close by the way his member twitched inside of you, his strangled moans, and the feeling of his face contorting against your back.

"Need you to cum, baby." he breathed out, "I can't cum if you don't cum first."

"I need-" you began and it was like he read your mind, fingers heading straight for your throbbing clit and rubbing it side to side vigorously, causing you to breathe out, "Yeah."

It didn't take much longer before your body became numb with pleasure. You were trembling, screaming into the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white with how hard you were gripping the covers. Harry continued his movements to carry you through your orgasm, causing it to pulse through you in waves, euphoria completely clouding your mind.

You came down from your high with heavy breaths, the continued stimulation from his thrusts sending a new wave of pleasure over you. When it became too much, you whimpered and he pulled out, groaning painfully, "Where do you want me?"

"My back," you breathed out.

You laid down on your stomach and moved all your hair to your front, while he continued to pump himself to keep his orgasm from falling. Once you were in position, he pressed one knee to the bed to angle himself above you. It was only seconds before you felt the warm feeling of him painting your back with his creamy release, your jaw falling slack. Moans of pleasure fell from his lips as he worked himself through his orgasm, pleasure consuming his body just as it did you only seconds earlier.

Once he had milked the last of his orgasm, he immediately got up to grab a few tissues to clean you off.

"You okay, babe?" he asked while wiping the tissue across your skin.

"Mhm," you hummed in response, ready to just fall asleep in his arms.

Throwing away the soiled tissue, he stated, "All done."

You turned over onto your side and he laid down next to you, pulling you into him, breathing out, "Didn't lie when I said I always get you trembling under me, huh?"

You rolled your eyes teasingly at him, "You're so annoying."

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know. We still need to talk though. The problem didn't just go away 'cause you're good in bed."

He chuckled deeply, "Can we talk tomorrow? Just wanna hold you right now."

"Yeah, lemme go to the bathroom then we can go to bed," you replied as you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom.

"Love you, sexy," he teased, landing a soft smack across the curve of your ass as you got up.

You giggled, "I love you too."

[aesterblaster]

Sleepin Demons

How Blue Lock characters wake up from nightmares/How you can comfort them [Gender neutral reader]

Tropes: Reverse Comfort, Fluff/Angst, Established Relationship, and general warnings for some gore and mentions of flashbacks along with implied sexual harassment

Characters: Almost All Of Them Lol

Songs: Insecure - Bren Joy // Coffee for Dinner - Orion Sun // Broken Clocks - SZA

The Silent Type + Actual Memories

It's the same one again. He's right back where he started. Unloved, unknown, left out of everything. The pangs of hunger run through him like a freight train as he desperately runs from room to room in his childhood home...But there's no nourishment. Someone calls his name but all he feels is fear at being recognized, he cowers as a figure rounds the corner and says his name again. "You think you could get away from me? Huh?" It could be anyone, a parent, someone he used to owe money to, an old abusive coach, all he knows is what comes next is going to hurt. "Are you fucking crying? You're so pathetic, soon everyone else will see that just like I always have!" The floor begins to sag and give way, everything creases in on itself. His brain feels like it's going to explode.

When he wakes up- his brain still feels as if it's too big for his skull, pushing against the edges like it's trying to find its way out. But he doesn't groan in pain, and he doesn't move. You're next to him after all, breathing softly. The moonlight grounds him, your hand against his side grounds him, he is safe now. The best thing you can do is stay asleep. He isn't ready to talk and admit that he's weak (or even worse...the fact that it is okay to be weak sometimes), not yet. For now he just snuggles against you and quietly brushes away any residual tears, thanking everything he believes in that he's here with you now.

Kaiser, Hiori, Naruhaya, Noa, Lorenzo

The Silent Type + More Abstract Fears

Slow. Everything was moving so fucking slow around him. His body was falling apart. Every sinew, every cell, every fucking atom of his being was breaking down and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Was this what he was truly destined for, dust to dust? Strangely enough, it didn't hurt, everything was calm. He was dying, so what? Every star burns out. And then, as sharp as a clap of thunder, the pain arrived. In his heart, not his body. Images of friends, family, trophies, all the things he hadn't done yet and you surged through his head. No, he couldn't die, not yet! He gripped his arm, but it was already turning to dust. Irrelevant and forgotten.

He's almost surprised when he wakes up, remembers that that would be impossible. Wants to scoff at himself for being afraid of something that could never happen. But the truth is, he is going to die someday, no matter how big of a star he is. He watches you twitch in your sleep, obviously disturbed by how he jerked awake, and curls his arms around you. He presses his face to the top of your head and breathes you in, silently begging you to drift back into a deeper sleep. He just needs to savor every moment with you and stop worrying, he tells himself.

Snuffy, Nagi, Ego, Aryu, Reo, Kuon, Chris, Jin

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Reassurance

Why was this happening? You were in his arms, covered in blood, he was covered in blood; It was everywhere. The cheering from the fans turned into screaming, that's when he should've stopped and had the damn sense to look around. Instead, he kept running and dribbling down the field, confused why nobody was stopping him. He didn't see you falling from the stands until you were right in front of him. Your arm twisted first, then your neck, the rest of you followed. Why was this happening? "No, no, no, no...(Y/N). Get help! What the fuck are you all standing around for?!" He took off his jersey and tried to stop the bleeding but it wasn't enough, you were already going cold. He was powerless.

"I said get help-!!" he roared. "Oh..oh fuck." He suddenly wasn't holding your limp body anymore, he was in his- your room. The smell of blood disappeared. He glanced over and made eye contact with you. "Are you okay? You're shaking like a leaf!" "No..can you, can you just come here?" He crushes you in a bear hug as soon as you do. Even when he lets up, he opts to hold your hand instead. He makes you tell him about your day, because he got in late when you were already asleep. He tells you how much he loves you and recounts the day you two met just to stop his heart from bursting. "S-sorry I woke you up, I just- I needed that."

Ness, Niko, Aoshi, Sendo, Gagumaru, Igaguri, Kurona

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Some Space

The first thing he notices is that he can't breathe. The second thing he notices is that he is in a hospital. "No, I don't think he will ever be able to speak or move again." a voice he doesn't recognize claims. Someone is choking him and he can't stop them. It's himself, rabid, foaming at the mouth. The doppelganger realizes he's been caught and tightens his grip. "That's right, that's what you fucking get for ignoring yourself. You don't even fucking eat enough and you want to be a star, huh? You keep betraying yourself." His neck is lifted from the cold pillow. "And betraying yourself!" It's slammed back down. He wants to tell him to stop, to say anything, but he can't.

He wakes up like he's been jolted back to life by electricity, doesn't even realize he's screaming. "Baby, baby you're okay! It's okay." He feels your hands around him and feels ashamed instead of relieved. What the fuck was that?! "Just go back to sleep, I'll be back." You open your mouth to argue but he shakes his head. "Please." This is nothing you can help him with, he needs to take care of himself and he knows it. Can't keep relying on others to pull him out. He takes a cold shower and comes back to bed hours later, slipping next to you. "I'm sorry I scared you." is all he says as his hands glide over your back. It's best if you just accept his apology, you'll never fully understand the war he's having with himself.

Chigiri, Kenyu, Kunigami, Kira, Sae, Barou

You Wake Him Up + It's Not Okay

Of course he knows this is a fucking dream, how could it not be? The overwhelming lights, the strange woman putting her hands on his chest. He knows exactly what this is about too. The paparazzi have gotten way too comfortable following both you and him around, they keep asking invasive questions and posting up outside of your house. The lack of privacy should be illegal. "You're famous now, you should like this you ungrateful piece of shit." a voice hisses in his ear as another pair of hands massages his shoulders. He tenses and struggles, but more hands appear, grabbing at his clothes. They tear pieces away from him with no remorse and something deep inside of him wishes it could end- Scratch that, every part of him wishes this would end, the violation, the rumors, the-

"Hey! Are you alright? I think..I think that you were having a nightmare." He gasps, so the feeling of hands on his chest were yours. Everything that was tensed relaxes, it was just you. That doesn't stop all his feelings from welling up along with tears. "Can you not touch me right now?" God, he wishes you wouldn't look at him like that. "Are you crying?" "No." He slips out of bed and checks the curtains, he can't shake the feeling of foreign hands on every part of him, not just his chest. Disgust curls and uncurls in his stomach. Why couldn't he just fight back on his own in his own damn head? "There's no one out there-" "How do you know!? Huh?" he demands, a whole lot louder than he meant to. "Fuck wait..I'm sorry. This week has just been a lot." You two end up having a long and needed talk that night.

Lavinho, Reo, Oliver, Rin, Raichi, Tabito

You Wake Him Up + It's Okay

He has been walking in circles for hours. Each loop, though, something changes. At first it was funny, (someone's head would balloon to an impossible size or a sign would read a curse word instead of an actual street name, for example) but now he was just tired. He couldn't sit down though or this burning pain would shoot through him...Just like in the real world, if he ever stopped shining, if he ever stopped moving forward, he'd get this feeling like he wasn't doing enough. Even on vacations there would be a gnawing sense that he was running from his rightful title. All he needed was the spotlight, even if it took so much fucking effort to get there. Practicing the same kicks over and over again, walking in circles, looking for what would excite him next-

"Please stop kicking me..." you groan and he wakes up instantly. Honestly, he didn't realize how terrifying his dream was until he's lucid. "Was I kicking you? Sorry... I just had the weirdest dream, it was like I kept walking in circles and I couldn't stop." "Maybe that's your brain telling you to take a break and stop treating my shin like a soccer ball." You two continue to make light of it and the more he talks about it with you, the more relaxed he gets. He's going to be just fine, especially with you by his side. "Mnh, good night." you finally whisper, cuddling up against him and tangling your leg with his in a final attempt to prevent any future attacks. "Good night." He watches you fall asleep with love in his eyes and wonders how a job obsessed weirdo like him managed to land someone as perfect as you.

Bachira, Loki, Isagi, Shidou, Nanase, Otoya, Zantetsu,

[lightsoutnaway]

Everyone knew but us.

PAIRING: Carlos Sainz x gn! reader (no pronouns)

WARNINGS: Language, Lando slander (he's still my favorite little elf)

SUMMARY: You were Carlos' best friend before you were dating Lando. Watching you together made Carlos know that he loved you, and when Lando breaks your heart Carlos finally takes a chance on your love.

WORD COUNT: 1,766

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Requests are open!

Carlos had been furious with Lando when he found out that the little British asshole broke your heart. Carlos had begrudgingly given Lando his blessing eight months ago and he didn’t think he had ever regretted anything more. 

The anger had started casually. When you came to races and you spent your time at Mclaren instead of Ferrari it sparked a little jealousy in him. He knew you were originally a Mclaren fan. It was one of the things he missed about racing for them. 

When you came to the galas you were Lando’s date now, not Carlos.’ You spent the night hanging on Lando’s arm, not his. Things were different. Carlos was second to his friend, and he didn’t like it. You belonged to Carlos. He didn’t know why he’d never realized it before. But he knew it every time he saw you with Lando. And now you were here, crying in Carlos’ bed over Lando breaking your heart.

Carlos was in bed with you, arm around your waist, holding you to his chest as you sobbed. He was running his fingers through your hair, trying to calm you. You had been crying for nearly an hour at this point, and that was only since you arrived at his house. Carlos had been mostly quiet, whispering sweet nothings to you every now and then. 

“I’m sorry, Carlos,” you sniffled. Your tears had subsided enough for you to get words out. Carlos lifted his head to look at you, but you didn’t look up at him. Your forehead was pressed to his collarbone, your eyes closed tightly, as if it would block out the pain.

“Sorry? What are you sorry for, mi amor?” Carlos let the nickname fall off his lips so easily. He’d refrained from using it when you started dating Lando. But it came back as easily as riding a bike. It was natural. He was glad to have it back. 

“I knew you didn’t really want me to date him,” you said. “I could tell.” Carlos stilled his hand in your hair. 

“I just want you to be happy,” Carlos said after a moment. 

“But you didn’t want me to date Lando,” you repeated. Carlos sighed. 

“No, mi amor. I did not,” Carlos admitted. “I did not think he would cheat on you though.” 

“I shouldn’t have dated anyone at all. You’re my best friend,” you said. “That’s all I need.”

Carlos felt relief and sadness at your words. He didn’t want anyone else to have you. But he didn’t want to be your friend anymore. He wanted more. Now wasn’t the time though. You needed Carlos and if you didn’t feel the same way you would be alone at a time when you needed support.

“There’s someone for you,” Carlos comorted you. “You’ll be with them some day.” You hummed dismissively. Carlos closed his mouth. He knew better than to keep talking. Sometimes all you needed from him was his presence, and words did nothing to help you. He went back to running his fingers through your hair and he kept at it till you fell asleep in his arms. 

When you woke the two of you were still tangled together. You woke before Carlos, but he felt you stir and woke only seconds later. He tightened his arms around you the moment he woke. He didn’t realize you were awake yet and was indulging himself in your touch. He was in heaven. Cuddling wasn’t new to the two of you, but it hadn’t happened since you started dating Lando. Lando was a naturally jealous man, and you and Carlos had dialed back your physical affections. Carlos was so grateful to have you back in his arms. You fit in them so perfectly. He leaned his nose in and took a whiff of your hair. You smiled. 

“Did you just sniff me?” You asked. Carlos was clearly startled by the fact that you were awake. He couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed though. 

“You smell good,” he said simply. 

“I didn’t shower last night,” you said. 

“I think it is just you, mi amor,” Carlos said. He leaned back in and took another whiff. 

“Well, what do I smell like?” You asked. The first thought that came to Carlos' mind was ‘love,’ but he was too scared to say it.

“Flowers,” was all Carlos could come up with that wouldn’t make him sound like a lovesick puppy. You laughed. 

“I don’t use floral soap,” you said. Carlos shrugged. 

“I do not know, mi amor. I just know you smell good,” he said. You leaned into Carlos’ neck and inhaled his scent. You hummed. 

“You smell good too,” you told him. Carlos smiled. 

“Oh? And what do I smell like?” He asked. The first thought that came to your mind was ‘home,’ but you were too scared to say it. 

“Rain,” you said instead. Carlos hummed and kissed the top of your head, pulling you tighter into his chest. 

“Will you come with me to get my things from Lando’s?” You asked after a few minutes of basking in each other’s touch. 

“I’ll get them for you,” Carlos said. “I don’t want you to have to see him again so soon.” You let out a little sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “You’ve always taken care of me, Carlos.” 

“And I always will,” he answered at once. You nuzzled your nose against Carlos and took a deep breath. Neither of you rushed to get out of bed, but eventually you had to leave the comfort of each other’s arms. You ate the pancakes that Carlos made in a comfortable silence. Carlos put on your favorite movie for you and kissed the top of your head before telling you he’d be back with your things. 

Carlos was thinking about what he might say to Lando during the drive to Lando’s house. Carlos was angry at Lando, but he didn’t want to aggravate the conflict. Carlos was level-headed and calm. It was one of the things that made him so good for you.

“Where’s y/n?” Lando asked when he opened the door. 

“My house,” Carlos said. 

“Oh.” Carlos raised an eyebrow. 

“Did you think I would bring y/n here when I could come myself?” Carlos asked.

“No, it’s not that…” Lando said. “I don’t know which things are y/n’s and which are Valerie’s.” Carlos' expression went from mildly angry to disgusted. How could Lando be this awful?

“Let me in. I’ll know,” Carlos said. He was right. Lando presented him with a pile of clothes, cosmetics, and jewelry. Carlos picked out every item that was yours with complete certainty and didn’t leave any of your possessions behind. He turned to look at Lando before he left. “I never should have given you my blessing,” Carlos spit. Lando pursed his lips. 

“Y/N’s in love with you too, so I don’t know why you did either,” Lando said. Carlos opened his mouth to reply but Lando closed the door in his face. Carlos stood there with a box of your things in his arms and a dumbfounded expression on his face. 

Carlos wondered if you had told Lando that you loved him. You had been a wreck the night before. Carlos couldn’t really imagine you were in love with anyone but Lando. But the thought didn’t leave his mind as he drove back and carried your things into his house. 

“Cariño?” Carlos called when he walked in. He placed the box on the counter. You appeared from the hallway.

“Hey,” you called. Carlos turned around and looked at you. He stayed quiet, unsure whether to bring up what was now on his mind. 

“Did you get everything?” You asked. Carlos gestured to the box. You walked over and started sifting through everything. You pulled out your makeup bag. Carlos eyes were still drinking you in, his mind racing faster than he ever had. He was replaying every interaction you had ever had with him, picking up all the lost signals he had let pass by. You unzipped the makeup bag and started digging through it. You pulled something out that Carlos couldn’t see at first but you put down your makeup bag and held it up to show him.

It was the necklace he bought you after he got signed with Ferrari. It was a chili shaped pendant with rubies and emeralds set into it. Carlos had gotten it made for you when he got his first payment. 

“Lando didn’t like when I wore it,” you explained. “I forgot to take it off before I went over the last time though.” Carlos still said nothing, but he took the necklace from you and you turned around, letting him put it back where it belonged. You turned around, running your fingers over the pendant. Carlos looked at your hand over the pendant. He looked at your eyes. He looked at your lips. Fuck it. 

Carlos cupped your cheek in his hand and tilted your head back. Before you realized what was happening his lips were on yours. You let out a small gasp of surprise against him, but quickly started kissing him back. Your hands went to his shirt, twisting into the fabric and pulling him closer to you. Carlos moved his other hand to your waist, his large hands spreading out over your body. His lips were warm and sweet. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you whined in pleasure. One of your hands slid up his chest and neck till you were digging your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Carlos let out a small moan when you tugged. 

Finally, finally you pulled apart, gasping for air. You stared into each other’s eyes. His dark brown eyes were filled with desire and love and something you couldn’t quite name but you knew you felt too. Words seemed unnecessary. The kiss had told both of you everything you needed to know. After a moment the two of you laughed, wide smiles making a home on each of your faces. Carlos moved his arms around you, pulling you tight to his body.

“What took us so long?” You asked, the smile still on your face. Carlos chuckled. 

“Lando told me,” Carlos answered. You scrunched your eyebrows together. 

“Told you what?” You asked. 

“That you love me,” Carlos told you. 

“How would he have known?” You asked. Carlos ran a finger over the chili pendant, shining brightly against your skin. 

“I have a feeling that everyone knew but us.”

[munariplans]

is there someone else? part 3 | natasha romanoff

synopsis: part 3 to is there someone else?

natasha romanoff x reader | slight wanda maximoff x reader

word count: 9.6k words

read part 1 and part 2 here.

masterlist

natasha woke to the sound of wheels skidding on the road before the cabin, before they ended on the gravel right outside. it took her a few moments to gather her surroundings, she had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for you after all, before heading outside to check the commotion. 

what she did not expect was for you to be sitting by the front porch, the old, beaten-up porsche parked haphazardly by the gravel with the engine running, and a bottle of tequila by your side. she took another look at you, then at the car, and sighed in worry. 

rushing forward to switch the engine off, natasha knew being angry with you was not the right approach at that moment. “jesus, were you drunk driving?”

you shrugged. “maybe. still got home, though.”

the woman before you fought the urge to scream. the morning sun was due to rise anytime soon, the golden beginning to bleed into the warm planks of the porch. you were sat by the edge, still shrouded in the remaining comfort of the night. natasha pulled the ends of her robe closer, hand over her bump, and finally sat next to you. 

“i can’t believe–”

suddenly the bottle was slammed between the both of you, causing natasha to jump and stop herself mid-sentence. “yes, i drove to the store to get tequila, and yes, i was drinking it on the drive back. and yes, i am probably drunk right now. i know i was wrong, it was dangerous, so you can save the lecture you’re going to spew and head back inside if you’ve only come out to get mad at me again.”

Natasha didn’t need to voice out her worry, or disagreement, for you to know that your words had been mean, and unnecessarily hurtful; because in the next moment, you dropped your head between your knees, and shook it in disappointment.

Instead, Natasha could only think about how badly she had screwed up, to make the monster that you were before her then. How she treated you, transformed you, from a person everyone at SHIELD knew as a steadfast anchor; an agent with skills like no other, and a heart more kind and warm than anyone she knew, to an irresponsible drunk that worried too much in your last missions together, a workaholic with a temper she had grown slightly afraid of recently. Natasha felt like she was to blame for everything. 

For a while, the woman sat with you in silence, only the brief gusts of wind howling in the distance and the crickets by the forest accompanying the both of you. She was getting cold, but refused to leave you alone out there for the night. 

Finally, she heard a faint I’m sorry from your face hidden between your knees, and dared to reach out to pat your back gently. It prompted you to continue. 

“I’m so sorry, Nat,” she could hear the heartbreak in your voice, “I’m so sorry you ended up with me; that you have to deal with someone like me as a partner. I don’t know where we went wrong, I don’t know what’s happened to us, but I…I know we fucked up. I’ve become everything I told myself I would never be when I fell in love with you, and I’ve hurt you so much to the point where you’re crying almost every night because of me, because of my stupid actions and what they’ve caused to you and our little one.”

You looked up at her then, and under the moonlight, your tears looked almost ethereal to Natasha. “I never meant to hurt you, and I hate that it’s come to this now; where we can’t even resolve a disagreement without arguing or resenting one another. We are walking on eggshells around each other, Nat, and this…whatever this is…is tearing us apart.” 

When the woman remained quiet, you croaked with, “Tell me what’s wrong with us, Nat.” 

She found your gaze, and her eyes were glassy and red too. Natasha shook her head, and withdrew the hand from your back to hold herself. With more despondence in her voice than you had ever heard, she said, “I just…I just feel you don’t love me anymore.” 

“That cannot be more untrue,” you interjected. “I know…I know I still love you.”

“Maybe your mind knows, but does your heart say the same?” 

“Of course, I…” At the disbelieving look on Natasha’s face, you grew desperate, “...Natasha, of course I love you. I want this marriage to work, I want us to work. I know I’m not the best at showing my love for you but…I whisper I love you, when you’re in another room, when you’re asleep, when you have headphones on, every time you look at me. My heart whispers that it loves you. I’m trying, Natasha, I try and try–”

“–Trying? You have to consciously put in effort into caring about me?”

“Am I wrong for wanting to put effort into us? Wanting to care about you?”

“No, but it should come naturally. It’s like you’re convincing yourself to be in love with me.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know that I love you. I’ve known from the very start, from before Clint pulled that arrow, from when I first saw you, even from when I was first handed your file. I knew you were going to be the one to change my life. I just…” you shut your eyes, bracing yourself, “...You hurt me. You’ve hurt me so much this past year and a half, and I can’t help but push you away when you do.”

“Hurt you…?”

Natasha looked more confused than ever, and you didn’t know whether to sigh or scream. “Natasha, I know, trying for a baby is hard. IVFs are hard, relationships are hard. But when you get upset and pin the blame and anger on me when things don’t work out…it forces me to shoulder all the burden in this relationship. I just feel so helpless all the time, because you keep shutting me out, and you keep letting your own insecurities of Wanda, and everyone else, get the better of us. 

All of this is scary for me too. I’m learning to be a better person, and parent, too. But some nights you yell and scream at me and I sit there and take it because I know you are having a hard time, but these things get harder and harder to look through and swallow when you basically deduce that that is all I am worth to you now. I know it’s unfair to ask, but I’m sure you know you haven’t been treating me the same, and I want to at least know why, so we can fix this. I want to fix this.”

Swallowing, you watched the mess of red hair before you blew in the wind, Natasha’s face almost identical in colour with how hard she was crying, too. It took a few minutes for her to gather her thoughts, before she spoke, “I’m just scared that you’ll one day wake up and realise that you deserve better, and when you do, you’ll leave me and I’ll return to the monster I was in the Red Room. I won’t have your patience, your love, to guide me to be a better person, and everything good about it will return to you, where they came from. 

I know you, and I know the way you are. We’ve been married for so long, but I know you would still sacrifice your own happiness, your own future, your everything, to make life easier for me, You never put yourself and what you want first; you’re always too kind, too considerate, too stupid to see that you’re not even happy with the situations you land yourself in because of your kindness. 

I mean…you married me, when nobody else would even spare me a glance in the compound when I first arrived, because who would want the dirty KGB agent that defaulted and still tried to kill the very own rescuers tasked to kill her? You held back Clint’s arrow from flying towards my head, you spared me because you somehow thought I was worth saving, and you smiled at me, nodding your head and whispering it’s okay while I was trying to squeeze the life out of you with my hands around your neck. Who does that? Who lets their target try to kill them and be so willing to die for someone they thought needed to be saved?

And you married me. So readily, without a second thought or consideration towards what it would mean for your reputation, your future, in SHIELD. You could have refused Fury’s request, let me get sent back to the KGB, let me get executed, and you wouldn’t be affected in any way, shape or form. But you married me, in that stupid courthouse in the stupid part of town with Fury as our witness and the priest who knew you deserved better than some Russian assassin who needed a green card. And you kissed me, and let me strangle you again that night, threatening that I would never, ever fall for someone as dumb, and kind, as you, while you still laid back on the bed, face already purple and prepared to die if I had just held on for a second too long. 

And now, I’m just afraid you’re doing it again, staying with me just because I am with child, when you know you could be happier somewhere else, with someone else. You chose to be responsible, and not happy. You want a child, but you don’t want this child. Not with me, you don’t want me. I fooled myself into thinking anyone does. You are not an exception, you are just too nice to do anything otherwise.” 

“So what, you’re just going to delude yourself into thinking that you not being around would somehow magically make my life better?” You shot back bitterly, the liquor fuelling the anger simmering at her declaration. 

“If it makes you happy!” Natasha replied, “I love you so much, I would rather let you go and be happy with someone else than tying you down here with me. You said it yourself, I hurt you, I’m a horrible partner to be around, and in my pursuit of what I wanted, I never considered that you were there hurting, too. You are the first and only person I have ever loved so deeply, so…so even if it breaks my heart into a million pieces and turns me irrevocably into something I swore I would never go back to…I would let you go if you wanted to leave. I don’t want to see you like this, in pain just for the sake of staying with me.”

Natasha watched you sink deeper into your knees, sobs she so rarely heard coming out raw and guttural from your throat. And then, for the first time in a long, long while, Natasha felt you embrace her first, arms clinging on to her body as if she would dissipate any second, as if you were afraid she was going to be torn from your reach. 

“Please don’t make me go,” she heard against your cries, “Please. Please. I love you. And I want this, I want this with you, everything with you. I don’t want to go. Please let me fix this, please don’t push me away, please forgive me.”

To even hear your declaration of love for her, of your want to still be around and to fix whatever that had been tearing the both of you apart, was all that Natasha ever wanted to hear. No matter the circumstances, no matter the hurt and pain, she always found it hard to stay angry at you for long, and the absolute desperation in your voice and your arms around her were already signs she knew you could never disguise to gain sympathy from her. Natasha knew you. 

She only wished she had known all of it earlier. “You know I have always just wanted you. I want you around, by me, for the rest of my life.”

“You already have me, all of me. From the very start, Natasha.” 

“But I need that you back. I know I have my own flaws, and you have to tell me how I can fix them, but I need the you that I fell in love with. I just need my wife back; you need to prioritise me, this, us, right now, because I can’t do this alone. Me and baby, we need you to be the anchor you have always been for me, darling, because above all, we need to be a team for our little one. They need you more than I need you, so even if you can’t do it for me, please, do it for them. 

And I need you to be open with me. No more secrets, no more hiding. I want all of you; your pain, your sorrows, I agreed to them in our vows, remember? You need to talk to me when things get rough, if I get rough. I know you’re one of the Avengers’ and SHIELD’s strongest leaders, nobody doubts that, but even the strongest need someone to fall back on and be vulnerable too. You need to let me be that person, okay?”

Natasha was rubbing your back then, being the one holding you up when the roles were usually reversed. She had hoped she wasn’t asking for too much, that your love for her would allow you to put your pride down and actually agree to her terms, and she was right. In the next moment, she felt you nod against her. 

“Okay.” 

“You can start by telling me what’s wrong now, and what I need to fix from my end.”

You returned to your seat beside her then, tossing the tequila casually into the trash nearby, and took a moment to consider what you wanted to say. Natasha held your hand in reassurance. 

Then, you squeezed her hand back, your touch warm and encouraging. “If you get scared, or worried, or angry, you need to tell me what it is that is bothering you. Don’t bottle it in, Nat. It’ll only grow and manifest until it becomes too big to control and you can only let it out in anger at me. If we want to get through it, you need to tell me, and we’ll work through it together. 

I know you’re afraid, when we first started discussing if we wanted kids, you were reluctant that you were going to be a bad mother, but I never doubted you for a second. Everyone gets scared, Nat, but I’m here for you, just as you are for me. Anything, anything at all, you come to me. I will do everything I can in my power to protect you and our child. It’s just you and me, it will always be you and me.”

Your wife let out a small smile, brimming of hope, and love, for your future. 

“We’ll both do our best for our little one?”

“Of course. And for us, too.”

“One last thing.”

“Anything.”

“No more drunk driving.”

–

When she finally coaxed the both of you back to the house, Natasha asked if you wanted to see something, and as she led you to the bedroom and told you to stand behind her in the full body mirror, you had an inkling of what she was going to do. However, it could not compare to the warmth that spread through your body, the skipping of your heartbeat, when Natasha put her hands over yours, and led them to the bump you spotted just hours earlier. 

She giggled as you dropped to your knees in front of her, and pressed kisses all over the bump, before capturing her own lips with yours and whispering I love yous through the night.  

–

Natasha only realised that you had driven the both of you to the site of your very first date when you pulled into the parking lot of the Met, exactly five years after the date itself. You smiled when she let out a small gasp at the realisation, when she held your hand excitedly as you paid for the tickets, even more so when she began leading you down the exact route the both of you had taken for your first official date then.

It was after a mission where Natasha finally realised that she had caught feelings for you, where you guessed she had only done so after the countless times you had pulled her back from reckless moves that would have killed her in her rookie missions, or where you willingly jumped in front of enemy fire when she so clearly had not trained her senses to missions yet. 

Natasha remembered it quite differently. It was the mission where the both of you were alone, and she had seen you smile and laugh at something she said so happily, so free, as if you saw her as something other than the defaulted ex-KGB she knew everyone still regarded as. You had always reserved a special smile for her, she knew this, and everyone had told her that even though she would never return your feelings, you had undeniably been in love with her ever since you saw her, but this time, it was different. For some reason, this time, everything seemed to fall into place. You, whizzing past the New York skyline and swinging the both of you home as Natasha latched on, laughing at her still getting used to the speed and height of how fast you were flying, her body pressed on yours and hearing your heartbeat beating steadily to match hers, Natasha knew something was amiss when her own heartbeat began to quicken. 

That very same night, after you had patched up her wounds and began to pack to retreat and sleep in your own bedroom, Natasha knew she had to do something before her heart felt like it was going to burst. 

“Wait,” she held your wrist, and against your confused look to see if you had missed an injury, she continued with, “I want to try something.”

Before you could ask what, her lips were on yours, for the very first time since your wedding day, the taste of cherry and blood infiltrating your senses. Natasha’s eyes were shut, her lips unsure, but when you reciprocated and deepened the kiss, her hands abruptly pushed you back, disconnecting the both of you.

“Thanks, you can go back now.”

Natasha didn’t leave you to worry, and wonder very long of course. Because while you lay awake in bed that night more confused than ever, she barged into your bedroom, and declared, “I have two tickets to the Met tomorrow. I’ve never gone before, and I would really like to go. Do you want the other ticket?”

The nonchalance, yet shakiness in her voice that you could tell after spending so much time together, almost made you want to laugh, if it had not puzzled you even further. “I…”

She took your momentary confusion as rejection, however, as a flash of hurt appeared on her face, before she turned and said, “Never mind, forget it. I’ll go by myself tomorrow.”

That had you jumping out of bed quicker than you had ever done before, as you prevented the door from slamming, and held her hand back. “Wait, Nat, you didn’t really give me a chance to answer!”

At her eyebrow quirk and invitation for you to continue, you chuckled, and showcased your smile, the special smile Natasha knew was reserved just for her, and said, “Of course I want the other ticket. We’ll go together.”

There it was. The feeling of her heart going to burst again. It had happened on the way home, had multiplied during the kiss, felt like it was legitimately going to burst right then. 

Natasha fought the smile creeping onto her face, as she coolly replied, “Great. It’s a date. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“Great,” you breathed, feeling like you were dreaming, “I’ll see you…tomorrow.”

Natasha shut the door to your bedroom, retreated to hers, and the squeal that left her then felt almost inhuman. 

Though, at the date itself, Natasha wondered if you had even enjoyed yourself, or learnt anything from the artwork, when she caught you looking and smiling at her more times than you were even looking at the art. 

Fast forward five years later, you hadn’t changed; as Natasha gawked and tried discussing with you on symbolism and technique, only to fail and sigh in faux irritation as you were too preoccupied admiring her instead. 

–

And in the less happy moments, you were there to quell the fear that had replaced Natasha’s anger. After the museum date, and a very heavy lunch where you had ordered half the menu to satisfy Natasha’s cravings, she had taken to the bathroom to freshen up first. 

But when nearly ten minutes passed with no indication of her presence in the bathroom, you thought it was reasonable to get worried, given her current state. So giving the door a few soft knocks, you were surprised that it creaked open, not even closed or locked. 

And you were even more surprised, perhaps a little disappointed, to see Natasha still standing over the bathroom scale, frowning as she tried to look over her bump at the numbers below. 

She noticed your presence, noticed you leaning against the sink as you entered, unsure of what to say to her, but all Natasha could zero in on was the additional two kilograms that she had put on, another spike from the previous week.  

“Why’d you order so much earlier?” She whispered, half angry at herself, half afraid that you had noticed the weight gain far earlier than she had. 

But Natasha knew the answer was not in blaming you, not anymore, she had sworn, as immediately after, an apologetic look appeared on her face and you moved forward with bringing her off the scale. Shoving it right under the bathtub again, you brought her to face the mirror, and smiled convincingly. 

“It’s completely normal,” your lips moved to the space between her neck and shoulder, pressing feather-light kisses, “To grow for our baby.” 

“Not this fast, not this much,” Natasha rebutted. “Two kilograms since last week is too much.”

You allowed yourself to chuckle against her skin. “Maybe our little one is a big eater.”

“Or their mother is a fat cow who can’t even control her urges–”

“–Natasha.” Your voice had suddenly dropped, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. The smile on your face was gone, replaced with a dangerous glare she had often seen before you took down million dollar organised crime institutions. She groaned, feeling your grip around her tighten. “Don’t ever say that about yourself ever again.”

There were tears hot behind her eyes, but Natasha choked down her sob with, “I’m just afraid you won’t find me attractive anymore…at the end of all of this…when I’ve become so…different…from what I used to be, from what my body used to be. I mean, I know what I was, I know I have always used my body to get what I needed in the past, and even since the Avengers and SHIELD, it has never changed. Until now. Even Ward said it, you know? When he told you you struck gold—”

Fuck. You knew that was going to come back to bite you, and it did, astronomically. You shut your eyes then, shaking your head and trying to stop the river of regret of not punching his face right then and there overwhelm your senses. He was your friend, one of your oldest at it, but Natasha was your wife, and you should have done better for your wife. 

“–Fuck Ward. He was drunk, and I should have beat the shit out of him when he said all those things about you.” You knew it was completely your fault that Natasha was even feeling like this, that the tears streaming down her face then was because of the insecurities you instilled in her. 

“He’s somewhat right, but–”

“–No, he’s not,” you interjected, “He’s a piece of shit, that’s what he is. I was too tipsy to really take in his words then, and he had me cornered in front of everyone. I was a coward, and didn’t say anything when he was insulting your name in front of me. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Nat.” 

Natasha’s lips trembled as her hands laid over yours, and you sighed in frustration. “You know that what he says is not reflective of what I think of you, right? That I never, and I would never, think of you in that way. Your body growing, changing, will never deter what I feel for you. You are beautiful, Nat, a little extra weight is not going to undo five years of my love just like that.”

She sighed, still in worry, when you slowly reached further up her shirt, slipping your hands underneath  and holding the breasts she had been complaining had hurt for the past few weeks. “And you know these are growing too, which is a major plus for me.” 

“Ugh,” Natasha gave an annoyed look, hiding the hint of a smile, “Do you always have to ruin the moment?” 

But the woman certainly did not complain when you turned her right around, and began worshipping her body the way she deserved to be worshipped. 

–

Of course, not every part of Natasha’s change with her body was as harmless as a little weight gain. Her back hurt, she was having trouble going to the toilet most days, and most of all, the breasts that you admired growing so much, were giving her the hardest time of her days thus far. 

Inevitably, she was cranky. Twice she had caught herself from snapping at you for trying to initiate intimacy in the mornings, and when she painfully rolled over to alleviate the tension in her back, she had left you a little hurt and concerned. But you were merely brushed off with a I’m still sleepy, or not now, and you had no choice but to leave her be. 

By the time she had showered in the morning and headed to the bedroom to change, you watched as she slipped off her robe and grabbed the hoodie you put on her the very day you and Clint rescued her (which never returned to your own closet ever since), but when the thick fabric touched her skin and weighed her down, she flinched and sighed in discomfort. This time, you got up from the bed to hold her hands, massaging them too. 

“What’s hurting you?” You asked, assessing her body to see if there were visible signs of injury, to which there were none.

She shrugged, looking away. It was so stupid to feel burdened by this, Natasha thought. She was an assassin, and an Avenger, for Christ’s sake. God forbid she was losing a battle with her own body in pregnancy. You would think of her as weak, and incapable of raising a child without shouldering so much hardship, she considered, and a new fear crept within. “I’m fine.”

“Do you really want to play this game with me, Nat?” You prompted again, an eyebrow raised this time. “You know you can’t hide these things from me.”

“I can try,” she let out a smirk, to which you pressed down a little harder on her knuckle and she cursed, before lowering her head in shame, reaching out to pull you in for an embrace. You obliged, and with her face smushed into your shirt, she mumbled, “They hurt. My breasts hurt.”

“Oh.” You looked down to her eyes searching yours for signs of rejection, or amusement, that she was unable to hide pain as trivial as this, but you were serious. And then, you brought her in closer, and she sighed in happiness at the feeling of being held.

“My bras are all a little too tight now. Even the loosest hooks press against them too hard,” Natasha indulged, relieved that you were nodding in understanding. 

Finally, you asked, “You still up for your ice cream cravings from last night?”

“Mm,” she replied, “I dreamt of butterscotch last night, of course.”

At your chuckle, Natasha smiled, the sound of your laughter music to her ears as you began leading her down to the car to head out. 

But what Natasha didn’t expect, as she held onto her butterscotch cone while you helped hold her other flavour in your hand, was for you to bring her to a maternity shop by the mall, a personal assistant already greeting the both of you as she entered. 

She looked at you in surprise when the assistant led her to a section further down the shop, and you shrugged and said, “Figured you needed some new bras, my hands aren’t enough support.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha quickly let go of your arm as the assistant began pushing forth recommendations for softer, more comfortable bras for the rest of her pregnancy. She was grateful to you, as she sighed in relief at the instant comfort and support the new ones provided, while you sighed in contentment watching her try them on in the fitting room. 

“I’ll make you even happier than you were in that fitting room, tonight,” she whispered as you paid, a smirk growing on your lips right after. 

–

Though, as the shop assistant busied you with offering promotions and memberships while you paid, Natasha roamed around, and spotted a small rack of magazines right by the counter. Clearly a tabloid highlight, she skimmed the magazines for any good ones to bring home, when her eyes were caught in a particular tabloid; one with yours and Wanda’s faces splashed right at the cover. 

Her heart sinking, she picked it up immediately, and the headlines were not much more forgiving. Exclusive scoop: Illicit affairs even in superhero assemblies; will the Scarlet Witch tear down every family she is accepted to? 

Quickly flipping through the pages, Natasha scanned a quick analysis of yours and Natasha’s relationship, and eventually, reached the looming question of your marriage, and its legitimacy. They then showed the progression of yours and Wanda’s closeness that was not invisible even to the public, and the chemistry the both of you radiated onto each other. The next few pages held her compared side by side with Wanda, including her looks and abilities compared to the Scarlet Witch’s, and even a trivia to which one of them the reader would choose if they were you. 

It made Natasha sick to the core. It seemed as if everyone could see it, everyone but her, that Wanda was the better option. Not her, never her. Anybody but her. Obviously, she was so much younger, much more worthy of your companionship, much more deserving of your love. Whatever good had come from the day had vacated, as a permanent frown began to creep its way onto Natasha’s face, and an icy cold feeling crept onto her hands. 

Her ears were ringing, and when you called out to her, she had frozen in place with the inability to hear anything but her own deprecating thoughts. You got worried then, and quietly excused yourself from the assistants to walk up to her. 

When your arms wrapped around her waist a few moments later, and the magazine was taken from her hands to be brought back to the shelf, Natasha felt herself physically trembling. 

“Let’s go home,” was all you said, as you led her out of the shop, arm still around her waist as Natasha felt the world disappear from her own reality. 

–

In the car, however, you made sure she was comfortable, before holding her hand reassuringly, and convinced her to look at you. 

“Natasha.”

“Mm,” she tried to avert her gaze to the window behind you, but you were firm. Even though there were tears in her eyes then, you remained strong and continued. 

“I need to tell you something, and I know you will get angry, and very upset with me, but I hope…I hope you will understand, and you will forgive me. So we can move past this, together.”

At her nod, you declared, “I had feelings for Wanda, for a while in our relationship. It was when things were at the lowest between us, and I felt all hope was lost, when…when it was just a while before and during your announcement of the pregnancy.”

Natasha bit her lip, trying to withdraw her hand from yours, but you held on. “But those feelings have long dissipated, Natasha. Trust me, you are all I want, all I love now. 

I admit, the night we had that talk, with my drunk driving and stupid decisions, I…I thought of calling her. It felt like you had given up on me, I thought I should give up on our relationship, and…and I was exhausted and stressed. But the phone rang, and I saw you there, you and our baby asleep on the sofa, and…my whole future was there. I saw only you and our child, Natasha, nobody else. I couldn’t do it, I hung up the phone right when she picked up, and my feelings for her died with the urge to start something I knew I would regret. 

I recognise my mistakes, I know, I was a shitty wife and an even more horrible person, for even thinking of doing that to you, and I understand if you need space after this. But I just want you to know, Natasha, that you are the one I love, you are the one I would choose everyday, and nobody compares to you. I was stupid for even thinking there could be a possibility otherwise, I know it now. No one else makes my heart beat as fast as you do, no one else I would love the way I love you.”

The paper bag in Natasha’s lap crinkled as she adjusted her thighs, the swipe of her hands against her tear-stained cheeks sounding like a harsh slap as she let go of yours. You watched as she faced the door of the car then, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Natasha–”

“–Just…drive home. I need time, and space.”

Watching her retreat straight into the bathroom and hearing her retching right as you reached home, you knew that telling Natasha had been the right thing; you just wished the right thing did not have to be so difficult then. 

—

For the better part of the rest of the day, Natasha avoided you as much as she could, staying in the bedroom while you spent time simmering in your guilt. Look at the consequences of your actions. Made your wife cry, yet again. Made her feel less of herself, yet again. Natasha was too good to you, and you knew it. 

You brought her dinner as a peace offering. Knocking softly on the door of the bedroom, you could hear the sheets rustling as you said, “I’ve made dinner. Do you want to eat it inside?” 

A yes was heard, and you tentatively opened the door to find Natasha still under the sheets, face not visible. She pulled them up even higher as you set down the plate by her vanity table, and even though you wanted to say something, anything, to get her to even look at you, you knew better. 

Another soft click was heard as the door shut behind you, and Natasha continued to let the waterworks run. 

–

At night, you asked if you could enter the bedroom again, to which Natasha said yes. She was sitting on the bed this time, eyes still red, but at the very least not crying anymore. It was nearly time for bed, and in her nightgown, she watched as you went to your side of the bed, and picked up your pillows and a spare blanket. 

“Where are you going?” She asked, putting down her book. Her voice was still throaty. 

“The couch?” You answered, a little confused that she thought you would be anywhere else. “Do you…want anything? Before bed?”

Usually you fixed her a hot glass of milk before bed, or the occasional decaffeinated tea to help her sleep better. But tonight you were unsure of any move you should make in order not to upset her even further, and skipped out on the ritual. 

Natasha took a while to consider her next words, and you were prepared to head to the kitchen to steam the milk for her, when she patted the space beside her, and said, “Stay. Sleep here tonight.”

“Nat, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch if you’re not comfortable–”

“–Stay. I want to sleep next to you tonight.”

You nodded, fighting off the grateful smile on your face, and ensured there was as much space as possible between the two of you as you laid down on the bed, just in case. 

A few minutes passed, you wide awake and listening to Natasha’s breathing. Recently, it was a habit that you had begun doing; Natasha was afraid of falling asleep alone, and her nightmares did not help with her insomnia either. You always waited for her to fall asleep first, no matter the circumstances, no matter how tired you were. 

Her breathing slowed to even intervals, but never slow enough to indicate she was asleep. And then, she whispered in the dark, “Can you look at me, darling?” 

You rolled over to face her, and your heart squeezed at the sight of her crying again. She reached out for your hand, you gave it to her willingly, and she brought it to her bump, squeezing it in fear that you might let go of her. 

“I know, there are better women out there for you. I know, that I am not the most attractive, or the easiest to be with. I know I get mad at you when I so often encounter problems that I should be more mad at myself with, I know you know yourself that you could have done so much better than just…me. I practically stole the rest of your future away, with my problems and my need to escape the KGB. You could have settled down with someone better, someone like Wanda, maybe, started a family with them earlier, had a much easier time being with them. 

Or you could have moved to Switzerland and become head of the new STRIKE team, like Fury and everyone else expected you to, without being bound to stay because of me. Anything, I know, is better than me.”

You were about to protest, to hold Natasha’s face and say that everything that just came out of her mouth was not the least bit true, but she shook her head, and you allowed her to continue. 

“But I need you, and I love you. I needed you then, when the whole world was against me and you were the only one to show me kindness by sticking with me, I will need you in the future, when the baby is here and needs their two parents, but most importantly, I need you now, when I have no one else with me to go through this scary, scary nine months with. 

I’m sorry I’m not Wanda, I’m sorry I can never be her, but please…I need you to choose me, to choose us. More than anything, more than the baby in my womb right now, I need, and want you around with me, for the rest of my life. I don’t know how to get through all this alone without you, I don’t know how my heart can accept and love anyone else but you. You are my everything, you know this, and this is me begging you, to please, please, choose me. 

Our little one is half of you, as is my heart shaped by yours. Despite everything, you are all I love, you are all that makes sense to me, and I would do anything, just for you to be by my side, please. I need you, we need you.”

Your lips began to bleed with how hard you were biting them, as fresh, salty tears began to roll down your own face, the remorse and longing wrapping around your heart like a snake, squeezing so tight you felt like you were drowning. 

A choked sob left your throat as you then pulled Natasha to your arms, peppering her face with wet kisses and murmurs of you, always you, as she held onto you for dear life as well. 

“Nobody else,” you reaffirmed, the tightness of your arms around Natasha a welcomed feeling as she cried into your chest, “Nobody else but you, till the end of time.” 

She tangled her body with yours, always pressing herself closer if possible, as if afraid that you would slip away from her just as quickly as she had gotten the old you back, and only when you began carding your hands through her hair and reassured her that you were not going anywhere, did her breathing finally even out. 

It was the first night in two weeks where her nightmares never came.

–

The time with Natasha alone ran out on a balmy Friday afternoon, as Fury had called you back for an emergency mission the minute her first trimester had ended and the two of you had patched up your relationship. However, she was reluctant to move back to the compound so soon, and with an agreement for your mother to come visit her on days that you were not around during missions, she was happier to stay in the cabin nesting. 

Still, it did not quell your worries, as you watched your elderly mother fuss over Natasha as if she was her own daughter. Teaching the woman her signature crochet patterns, she noticed as you stood by the door, fidgeting with your fingers at the sight of Natasha near the knitting needles. “You worry too much, dear.”

“Right, I told her so too,” Natasha chimed in, to which you scoffed and rolled your eyes at their ganging up on you. 

Your bags were packed and in the car, everything Natasha could need for the next week was packed in the shelves and fridges, and you had reminded your mother to be careful when accompanying her for her doctor’s appointment in two days. “Just…the prenatals, every morning, okay Mom? And if you’re cooking her eggs, remember to get them a little more well done.No runny yolks. She needs at least eight hours of sleep–”

“–Yes, dear, I know. You’re treating your wife like a baby, I don’t think your father was even as concerned when I was pregnant with you,” she said, following you out on the porch after you had kissed Natasha goodbye for her midday nap, “Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. I know you love your wife so much, but remember that I’m here, and she’s safe, too.”

You nodded, gulping. “I know, I know. I just haven’t been treating her so well these past few months, I want to…I want to make sure..”

“I know,” your mother pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead, hugging you goodbye, “Now go. Focus on the mission. And come home safe, for her, and the child, okay?”

–

“Well you look healthier, and happier,” Tony chimed in as he watched you fly the Quinjet for the first time in three months, your hands slightly shaking. 

You steered left, before replying, “Thanks.” 

“Why isn’t Natasha on this mission? I thought Fury said he needed someone who could work with the security system?” Steve pointed out right after, and all eyes travelled to you.

You knew they had their suspicions, but they were just waiting for you to say it. It could only go on for so long, after all.

Stabilising the jet in the air, you then moved out of your seat to finally face the team. “Natasha’s pregnant. Three and a half months, today.” 

Knowing looks were exchanged, and the smiles began to grow on your teammates’ faces, as one by one they started clapping for you, with Steve coming forward to hug you tightly then. “Congratulations.”

Then, he leaned in, whispering, “You guys are okay, now?”

“Yup,” you replied, “We’re better.”

You thanked the team quickly after, promising to let them visit Natasha soon, before refocusing on your targeted location for the mission. 

–

You should have guessed that when Fury said they needed you for an emergency mission, they needed you for a truly emergency mission. 

Bullets raining down on your heads and armed weaponry that did not seem like they were made from any material on this earth, you found yourself trapped with Clint in the vents of the abandoned government building with barely any room to breathe without risking a bullet in your head. 

“Just like old times, huh?” He tried to lighten the mood, “The archer and the spider.” 

“I’m not like the kid,” you retorted, “They actually inserted the serum of that spider safely in me. No freakish hanging-on-walls nonsense.” 

He rolled his eyes, letting you web up an enemy from a distance, before finally ambushing the soldiers from the vent and preparing yourself for a long, drawn out battle with them. 

–

But no matter how hard you fought, or how many of Clint’s arrows helped to take enemies off your back, you were clearly outnumbered when the enemy had cut off all of your comms early on, Tony unable to come in for backup while you and Clint were probably in the most densely-populated part of the building. 

The moment the archer got caught in one of the negative-energy weapons the enemies had struck at him, was the moment you knew you had to escape. There was no point in trying to take them down and risking Clint. 

You shot the last web to blind Clint’s attacker, before releasing him and swinging straight out of the window to the lower floors. He was groaning in your hold, as you examined the remnants of the energy searing a deep burn onto his skin. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, worried that something would spread underneath and render his arms useless, “I’m taking you back to the jet.”

The first ones back on the jet were Tony and Steve, the energy on the verge of melting the Wakandan metal on the Captain’s shield and Tony’s weapons. You turned back to Clint worriedly, but before you could say anything more, the comms crackled and a groan was heard from the other side. 

“C-Can anyone help? We’re kind of…” The comms crackled again, but it was clear whose voice was on the other end.

“Peter, where are you?” You were the only one uninjured, and fit enough to go back in, as the doctors had already begun escorting Clint away, and the Captain and Tony were still trying to get their weapons and shield back working. 

“South Building, second floor,” his voice was getting fainter and fainter, before, “Can you hurry, please? I’m with Ms Maximoff, and it’s not g–”

“–I’ll be right there, Peter.”

–

The area was fairly unguarded as you tore through more enemies towards the South Building, and you soon found out why when more than half of them were tied up in Wanda’s magic, hanging from the ceiling in every room you burst through.

“Peter! Wanda!” Upon your arrival, you heard Peter’s web shooters fly and immediately rushed to his aid just a few rooms down from where you were. 

The boy was on the ground, shrouding a heavily injured Wanda with negative-energy enveloping all around her, while the last of the attackers tried desperately to capture the both of them. You overpowered them easily with more strength and experience, but as you returned to the duo you knew that the mission had been compromised, and had to be abandoned. 

Inspecting Spider-Man for injuries, you were glad that he was still able to walk, and more importantly, swing, as you then carried an unconscious Wanda into your arms and led him swinging behind you to safety. 

“Do me a favour,” you said as he found difficulty keeping up, “Don’t ever do that again. Risking your life like that.”

“Ms Maximoff was–”

“–I know she was injured, but if it came down to it, Peter, I wouldn’t have wanted you both dead. You tell me when you know you’re not able to handle these things next time, and I’ll be there instantly,  you know I will. Better me than you, okay?”

The young hero could only nod slowly behind. 

–

Back at the Quinjet, while everyone was scrambling to grab medical supplies for Wanda and the energy quickly burning through her skin, Steve pulled you aside to put you on the line with Fury.

“I know you’re worried about her Agent,” his voice cut through the noise in your head as you stared at Wanda being wrapped in all sorts of healing blankets and devices, “But I wish to request something.”

“Yes, Fury,” you replied, heart still in your throat as you watched the woman fail to open her eyes through her second resuscitation. You couldn’t help feeling like it was all your fault, that you hadn't gotten to her in time, and fear was steadily rising through your body. 

If Fury noticed the lack of focus in your voice, he didn’t mention it. “The nearest safehouse and medical facility for you guys is too far. Doctor Cho fears it might be too late for Wanda. The only other option is the woods where yours and Natasha’s cabin is.”

Even in your worry, you couldn’t help but prioritise your wife, though. “I don’t want Natasha involved–”

“–She won’t. As far as she knows, she’s just lending your house for the doctors in the jet to treat the team. That’s all. I’ve already gotten her approval, Agent.”

You sighed through the phone, heavy and worried. But one more look at Clint, and then Wanda, had confirmed any doubts you had. “I’ll get us there, then.”

–

Natasha was already waiting by the fields by the time you landed the jet, rushing forward to engulf you in her arms as she consciously felt around your suit for any injuries as well. When she didn’t find anything but a slash through your right shoulder, she sighed in relief and could only turn her focus to the team then. 

“I’m fine,” you breathed, thankful for the fact that she was there, “Can’t say the same for everyone here, though.” The both of you watched as Clint was carried by Steve into the cabin, followed by Wanda by Tony, and Natasha felt your fist tighten at the sight of her skin seared and lips pale. 

“Can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault. First mission back and I’m already getting so many of them injured.” You muttered.

Natasha cupped your face then, shaking her head. “Don’t say that. You didn’t know better, Steve was the leader of this mission, and none of you could have anticipated that there would be so many of them. And you are home now, you are safe, which is all that matters to me.” 

You leaned into her touch, nodding your head. 

–

the medical team left by midnight once they had stabilised wanda’s injuries, but being the only one certified as a medical professional aside from doctor strange, you chose to stay by her side the entire night, as she took up the spare bedroom in the cabin while the rest of the team slept in the living room. 

you changed her dressings after a few hours, and when you came out of her room, natasha was sitting by the kitchen counter. she was awake, and a steaming mug of milk was right beside her. soft snores from the living room had filled up the atmosphere, but the low lighting she had switched on made her look more ethereal than ever. her face shrouded in the warm glow, you approached her carefully and smiled when she gazed up at you. 

disposing of the bloody bandages, you sat across from her and saw that she had been filling up the crossword in the newspaper. 

“couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged. you pointed out a word to her and she thanked you. 

“without me?” you joked, but she nodded, and you smiled sadly. “i’m sorry. i…” 

you gestured towards the room, but natasha put her hand up. “i understand. i know you’re worried. i am too.”

you bit your lip, half in shame, half in guilt that your worry for wanda was affecting your wife too. but natasha put on a brave smile then, looking at the bloody dressings, and said, “i’ll help you get the new bandages from our storage. go.”

you dutifully returned to the room, watching her silhouette disappear for a moment before the door shut and your heart dipped deeper into your stomach.

–

you were administering a new bag into wanda’s IV drip when her fingers twitched, proceeding to ghost along the skin of your left arm as her eyes opened blearily. 

“hello sunshine,” you smiled at her, apologising as you reinserted the needle. 

wanda tried to smile back. “waking up to your face? i thought i must have died and went to heaven.”

you chuckled, but slowly removed the hand that had encircled around your wrist. “not heaven. you’re still stuck in this shitty cabin with me and the rest of the avengers. and if the painkillers tell you otherwise, just remember that your skin is redder and rawer than a tomato now.” 

the spare room was in fact your study, with the makeshift hospital bed in the middle and your desk pushed to the far corner of the room. as wanda’s eyes travelled and took in her surroundings then, you noticed her gazing across the photos of you and natasha on the desk replacing the ones with the team (and her), natasha’s little trinkets that you had now adopted, and the multiple scans of the baby right alongside. 

she looked at you sadly, and asked, “three and a half months?”

“yeah,” you grabbed the most recent scan, showing her, “natasha wants to wait a little while before knowing the gender. i'm a little afraid, to be honest, but we’re excited nonetheless.”

“right.” wanda looked at the scan, where the faint shape of the foetus was forming. she knew she had lost the moment she saw the softness in your eyes as you gazed back at the scan. 

she swallowed her fears, and asked, “so it’s her then? between me and her?” 

you looked up, staring at her face and remembering the phone call, the late nights, the companionship of being around the scarlet witch. fighting by her side in missions, coming home to her laughs and comfort after, you remembered her encouraging you after every fight with Natasha, the smiles exchanged as she brought you in for hugs and your laughter as she tried making jokes to cheer you up. 

wanda’s eyes were blue, natasha’s green. but there was only one pair you knew you would stare lovingly into for the rest of your life. 

natasha’s first night with you after your first date, sharing ice cream and exchanging quiet smiles. her wearing the sweater you had put on her after her rescue. it was her safety sweater, the safest space in her world. the tightness of her hugs, the softness of her kisses. the love in her eyes when you discussed parenthood with her, the excitement of you promising to be by her side until the end of time. 

“it’s her. in every life, i would choose her.” 

natasha, who had been listening behind the door, held the bandages closer to her chest, the warmth spreading through her had her smiling until her cheeks hurt. 

[the-grimm-writer]

Request for something where your boyfriend owes Toman a lot of money he can't pay back so he offers you as collateral. Hanma doesn't know why seeing you devastated and heartbroken make him feel so many things. Taking you away from your scummy bf is just business. He needs to do something about his intense urge to love and protect you though so he gently non/dub-cons you while moaning possessive shit in your ear.

God I love Hanma so much he's my favorite red flag <333

Tw: dub-con, forced kissing, mentions of kidnapping and murder, fingering, fem reader

"Are you crying over him again?" Hanma asked you with a deep sigh, ignoring how you flinched when his hand with punishment inked on the front of it gently wiped away your tears. “How many times do I have to tell you he’s not worth your tears?” 

If you were anyone else, Hanma would've laughed, told you to suck it up. Yet the moment he brought you in he couldn’t bring himself to hurt you like he normally would. 

“I know,” you responded with a sniffle. “But I can’t help it. You can’t control who you love.”

"Maybe not," he agreed with a sigh. "But you can open up to someone else. Someone who won't betray you."

"I miss him." You protested.

"He's not going to come back," he said softly but kept his tone firm. "I had to make sure of that. Or else I would've had to kill you to."

The rule usually was to take out everyone involved. He always did, except for this time. Kisaki and the others would chew him out once they found out he spared you.

Not that he cared if he was being honest. They'd bitch about it until they needed him to take out the next person that decided to cross Toman.

Shuji sighed as more tears streamed down your puffy cheeks. Betrayal wasn't something he took lightly, so he gladly took the bastard out.

"Am I really such a monster that you can't bare give me a chance?" You were stiff as his strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his lap before you could rush to the other side of the bed.

He was one, and damn proud of it. There was a reason why he's been nicknamed the Reaper. In the world they lived in, he needed to be a monster in order to protect you. But he didn't want you to see him as just a monster.

Lifting your chin up, you shivered as you looked into his amber eyes. How cold they could be, you'd seen it when he broke down the door to the apartment you'd been sharing with your now ex-boyfriend.

His eyes nearly glowing with disdain as he silently watched as your boyfriend yelled out excuses he was tired of hearing. Until he grabbed you and threw you towards him.

Rage lit up inside him like a match as Shuji watched you hit the ground. What kind of coward would do that to his woman? He knew that he shouldn't talk, but there were lines even he wouldn't cross. He looked down at you as you shakily stood up, and instead of being mad at your boyfriend, you went up to him instead. It made his stomach bubble up with an urge he hadn't felt in a long time.

The urge to protect. Who else would since you wouldn't even protect yourself? Instead, you pleaded with him to let your worthless boyfriend go, that you'd do whatever he wanted as long as no harm was done to him.

He had agreed and waited for you to fall asleep that night in the safety of his home to finish his job. Then he gave everything that scumbag deserved. Which is what led up to this now.

For days he couldn't help but stare at you. He never laid a hand on you, yet you couldn't help but flinch still, knowing how dangerous the gangster was. And he wanted to wait until you were more comfortable, when you understood he wasn't like your ex, yet he couldn't hold himself back. He needed to prove himself to you.

Shuji could be cruel, bend you across his lap and spank you until you're crying and pleading that you'll do whatever he wants. Or he could chain you to the bed, overstimulate you until you're swearing you belong to him.

As much as the sadistic side of him jumped at the thought, he pushed it down. He wasn't young and irrational anymore.

He wanted to show you even evil men like himself had soft spots. His soft spot just so happened to be you.

"You know I wouldn't hurt you, (Y/n)." He said softly, running his hand up and down your inner thigh, his other hand on your waist to keep you in place.

"Shuji!" You gasped as his hand slipped under your panties, gently rubbing your entrance, pressing down against your clit. "I -"

You moaned, resting your head against his shoulder, making him smile, kissing the top of your head. "Such a good girl." He praised. "Let me take care of you."

When he felt that you were wet enough, he gently pushed his finger into you, testing the waters as he felt how tight you were around him. He pumped his finger into you before adding the other.

"See how much your body loves me?" He smiled as you whined when his fingers curled inside you, hitting spots you never could think of before. "All we need is that pretty head of yours to follow suit."

You couldn't help but moan as his fingers hit the spongy spot in your walls that made you clench around him in pleasure, using his thumb to rub your clit. He thrusted them into you, satisfied with your reactions.

"You're mine." He growled in your ear. "Now cum." He demanded as you cried out, jolting against him as you flooded his fingers with your juices as he continued to push his fingers into your cunt. He waited for a minute before pulling away, groaning in satisfaction as he licked his fingers clean.

Then he laid you down on the bed, pulling you into a kiss as he got on top of you, you could taste yourself on his lips. He could sense how nervous you were as he pulled off your clothes, your body still shaking from how intense he made you came, feeling his hard on brush against your thigh.

"Fuck." He looked at your body like it was a work of art. "I love you so much, (Y/n)."

Looking at him stand up to strip, you rubbed your wet thighs together. How easily the powerful executive could overpower you, hurt you, yet he stayed gentle as he could.

He kissed at your neck, gently biting and sucking as he parted your legs again so he could line himself up with you, cock already leaking with precum. He grabbed your breasts, squeezing and gently pinching your hard nipples and doing it again when you let out a pleasured gasp.

Pushing into you, he waited for you to adjust to his size before he kept going. Slowly sinking into you inch by inch. When he was finally in all the way he waited for a moment before he started to push in and out of you.

Watching you moan, he began to pick up his pace, being careful not to go too hard. He wasn't going to be rough just yet. You felt so good, your cunt squeezing him in as

"See how good I make you feel? My good girl." He smirked as he felt you clench around his length when he called you that. "You like that, huh baby?"

You nodded your head, gasping each time he pushed into you. He seemed to know your body so well already, your ex was never able to make scream with pleasure the way Hanma was able to.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around him as his cock hit all your sensitive spots. Arching your back as the sounds of his skin smacking against your own filled the room.

"Love you so much." He grunted as he thrusted into you, excited to mark you as his and let you know that he was all yours as well. "Gonna mark you as mine."

You cried out his name as you came, pulling him closer to you as you felt him throbbing inside you. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as he quickly followed.

"Mine." He groaned into your ear again as he came inside you, flooding your walls as he shuddered. "All fucking mine."

[heavenlycloud]

quit: park sooyoung x fem! reader

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

cw// toxic relationships, HEAVY smut, swearing, situationships / fwb, manipulation, crying, NSFW again

men and minors dni!

a/n: i saw this pic of joy while looking for new layout pics and i couldn't help but let my mind wander...plus i've been dying to write something for this song. i'm still getting used to writing nsfw so pls be nice :) feedback would be greatly appreciated since this is my first time posting nsfw on my blog

and you say that i'm the devil you know and i don't disagree. no, i don't see the harm...they say, "you crazy, just leave him, he'll suffocate you" but i wanna be in your arms...

everyone in your friend circle warned you about her. they told you she would do more harm than good. they said she's not genuine, that she's only after one thing, sex. it'd be a lie if you said you didn't believe them because you knew getting involved with her was a disaster waiting to happen. however, there was something about her that was so addicting and you weren't ready to give up the drug that she was...you probably never will be. she's just that damn good.

they say, "no, don't pick up the phone, let them think there's nobody home" but i'm under your spell... 'cause when you call my heart starts to roll, i always want more, it's my heaven, my hell...

your bedroom window blew cool, night air into your apartment as you sat on your bed. you mindlessly ran your fingers along the cords of your electric guitar playing the first song that came to mind. surely the residents in the floors above and below you would complain about being woken up to kiss it better by rihanna, but you didn't care. it was well past one in the morning and you should've been asleep but here you were.

right as you finished the end of the chorus a muffled humming sound came from between your bed and pillows. you didn't even have to check to know who it was, and you definitely knew you shouldn't answer. all of your friends told you to ignore her calls, let her think you're not around so you ignored it. instead of calling again, you heard a loud knock at the front door of your apartment. ignoring the advice of everyone else and your own intuition, you got up and answered the door.

we're heading deep inside lives a voice, a voice so quiet. but i can't hear that voice when your heart beats next to mine...

sooyoung stood in the doorway looking like an abandoned puppy with her hair damp and wearing a sullen face. her eyes were red with her tearstained cheeks and swollen lips, "h-he broke up with me..." her voice cracked and she hiccupped between her words, the same ones you heard at least twice a month.

the opportunity to turn her away was still there but when she looked up at you with that same damn pout, it was over. without missing a beat you pulled her into your apartment and closed and locked the door behind you both. you led her to your room where your guitar and amp had been pushed off to a corner, leaving your bed open.

she walked into your arms and gripped onto the back of your shirt as she sobbed, "i-i hate him so much." you pulled her into your chest and agreed, "i do too." sooyoung pulled away from you and bunched her hands in the hem of your oversized t shirt, "i need you, y/n. please... "

i can't quit you, i can't quit you...yeah, i'm gonna regret it... know I'm gonna regret it.

god does she know exactly what to say especially with that stupid pout you always give into. you bring your hands up to hold her face, and gently wipe her tears away with your thumbs. sooyoung leaned into your touch and kissed the inside of one of your palms sweetly. you swiped your thumb across her lip slowly dragging the motion out and she sucked your finger into her mouth. her soft tongue swirled around your skin and you affirmed, "i'll make you feel better i promise. let me take care of you, baby."

when you said, "baby, i just want you to lay me down and we'll fuck the pain away" 'cause skin on skin, i feel nothing but the burning of desire and that's just foreplay...

you pressed your lips against sooyoung's and she melted into your touch with ease. her arms slipped from inside her jacket and you tossed it aside. you found the zipper on the back of her dress and unzipped it slowly, letting the material hang from her body before completely dropping to the floor. she stepped out of the skirt and kicked it aside to another spot on your floor. your lips pressed against her neck until you reached her collarbone where you stopped.

sooyoung whined at the loss of contact and you smirked to yourself in satisfaction. you stood behind her and lifted her chin with your finger to angle her gaze to your wall length mirror. sooyoung stared at herself right as you unclipped her bra and let it fall away. one hand rested on her waist while another on her shoulder. you ran your fingertips down her arm and she let out a soft gasp.

your breath ghosted her neck as you said, "look at how pretty you are." she shyly turned her face into your neck and one hand found your wrist as you moved your other one to her panties. the hand on her chest teased her breast, tugging at one of her nipples eliciting a high pitched sound from her, "a-aah." you smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, before holding her head up so she could see herself. your free hand slipped into her panties and with the lightest of touches, ghosted her dampened folds.

sooyoung squeezed her eyes shut and you clicked your tongue, "ah ah, look at your reflection. see how pretty you look?" her eyes slowly opened and you began rubbing slow circles around her heated center, ignoring where she needed it that most. sooyoung pleaded softly, "y/n...please." you hummed and dragged your thumb against her clit, making her knees buckle underneath her.

her weight rested on you and you smiled, "so needy and i haven't even done anything....do you know how much i love seeing you like this?" she didn't reply as you continued drawing patterns against her soaked pussy. she looked at you in the mirror and said, "y/n please." you slipped your hands from her panties and admired the sheen of slick. teasingly you brought them up to sooyoung's lips and watched her mouth fall open, just for you to lightly swipe her bottom lip and put your fingers in your own mouth.

you sucked her essence off of your fingers and hummed in satisfaction. watching as sooyoung pathetically licked her bottom lip for the smallest taste of herself, and feeling her sigh in relief against you. gently, you backed her against your bed and let her fall into the plush warmth. she was completely engulfed in your scent making her yearn for your touch even more. she looked up at you with those same doe eyes, searching for any signs of continuing your ministrations.

an airy gasp left her lips as you pressed the softest of kisses along her chest. you brushed your lips across one of her breasts and gently kissed one of her nipples while you free hand traced around the other. sooyoung let out a frustrated grunt as her chest pushed up for her hardened bud to meet your lips which only made you laugh. she breathed out, "please i need you..." you kissed the side of her breast and smiled, "you have me." she shook her head and repeated with more want, "no i need you to touch me."

looking up at her you pressed more kisses along her breast, swapping to the other before you asked, "where do you need me, baby?" sooyoung bit her lip as you sucked on her nipple and tugged on it with your teeth. when she didn't reply, you pulled away and started to move from atop her. in a panicked effort of desperation she snatched your hand into her own, and lowered it to her soaked heat, "here, i need you here." only then did you climb back over her and kiss down her toned abdomen, suckling marks and bites into her plush skin.

sooyoung spread her legs and let you settle between them, flinching slightly when your hand palmed her inner thighs. you ran your thumb over her heated flesh and nicked the surface with your teeth. by now you could smell how bad she wanted you and she was nearly shaking with desperation. just to put her on edge further, you kissed right against her folds, just missing where she wanted you most.

you coaxed smoothly, "tell me what you want, use your words, angel." sooyoung's voice came out just above a whisper as she said, "your mouth, please." heat flushed over her face when she looked down at you between her legs just in time to see you place a kiss to her clit. her hands flew to the top of your head just for you to slip one of your hands into her own.

the heat of your tongue against her molten center sent her eyes rolling to the back of her head. you laved through her folds hungrily tasting her as if she were the forbidden fruit from the heavenly garden. sooyoung breathily gasped and whined beneath you which sent a wave of confidence through your body. you let out a low moan, "you taste so good..." and it took everything in her to not let go right then and there. one of her hands fisted you soft bedsheets while the other squeezed onto yours, fingers intertwined with your own. when you gave her swollen bud another light suck she held her breath until she couldn't anymore. her body stuttered for a moment and a high pitched moan fell past her lips.

your fingers slipped into her heated core, helping her ride through her high before slowly kissing up her body to meet her lips. the taste of herself lingered on your tongue and filled her mouth, making her moan weakly. you brushed a piece of hair from her face and smiled softly, "my pretty girl." sooyoung's face twisted up at the nickname and she mumbled, "that's what he called me too..." immediately a pit of aggravation filled your stomach and you leaned closer to her, lips barely touching hers, "you're thinking of him when i'm right here?"

out of pure frustration you pushed her lightly away from you and started to get up, not knowing why you even bothered because she was always like this. no matter what you'd done in the past she always ran back to that bum ass man of hers. sooyoung grabbed your hand and pleaded, "no wait- please. y/n i'm sorry i just want you...it's always been you." she was too damn good at saying what you wanted to hear because no part of you genuinely believed her last words, yet you found yourself crawling back over her ready to make her mean what she said.

this time will be different.

we're heading deep inside lives a voice, a voice so quiet. but i can't hear that voice when your heart beats next to mine

you kissed her on her lips again and pushed her back down into your bed as she stared up at you. there was a specific hunger in your gaze that she'd never seen before that had her more excited than before.

i can't quit you, i can't quit you. yeah i'm gonna regret it, i know i'm gonna regret it

sooyoung's legs fell back open as you made your way back into the same spot before, kissing her swollen bud and laughing when she jumped. she rolled her head to rest on her shoulder and whined, "n-ngh i- wait i'm still sensitive..." you looked up at her through a hooded gaze, "i don't care. you look so beautiful under me." you connected your lips to her heated core and sucked harshly. her thighs closed around your head and you pushed them back open with enough force to make her whimper.

your fingers prodded at her entrance, your tongue dragging from her slit up to her engorged clit. sooyoung's hands violently fisted the sheets as she tried to hold out longer. but you were no match for her as you knew her body like the back of your hand. her second climax came and her sweet honey oozed from her center and onto your tongue. you sucked more into your mouth without wasting a drop before holding it there. she watched in near horror as you made your way up to her, tapping on her chin wordlessly.

sooyoung's lips parted and you stuck your sopping wet fingers into her mouth, drool running down her lips. when you withdrew them, you held her chin and tipped her head back slightly before spitting into her mouth. the mixture of your saliva and her slick filled her mouth, and she swallowed it without hesitation. your fingers massaged her soft pussy, making her begin to close her legs again. you looked down at her and said, "be good for me, open your legs." she followed your orders and squeezed her mouth shut as her thighs began to shake.

you looked at the tears that began to fill her eyes, only smiling and rubbing her center harder until her tears fell. she craned her neck up to meet her lips as you began to lean down, but instead you dragged your tongue along her smooth cheek, licking the trail of tears from her face. you laughed as she began to squirm more, beginning to beg, "i- y/n i- something is...i can't please-" you pushed your fingers further into her heated center, letting your thumb lightly bump her clit.

she began to close her legs and you pulled out of her and quickly reached forward. you laughed in her face as tears fell from her eyes and she nearly screamed, her swollen nub squeezed harshly between your thumb and pointer finger. sooyoung begged you, "ah- i- y/n-" you silenced her with a kiss and let her go, watching her sigh of relief only briefly until you pushed back into her.

you looked her in the eyes and told her firmly, "you can take it sooyoungie." her swollen pout and pleading eyes found yours and she repeated to herself pitifully, "i can take it. i-i can take it." you kissed her lips and cheek as you drew her only seconds from her third orgasm, "such a good girl for me huh?" she nodded eagerly as tears fell from her eyes and you kissed them away, "such a pretty girl when you cry for me. my pretty angel, my sooyoung." that moment the last name fell from your lips you felt her walls squeeze your fingers and push them out.

a stream of clear liquid leaked from her pussy as she shook beneath you, her own hand finding her clit and massaging it through her orgasm. you didn't hesitate to go down and lick up her mess, humming at the salty taste that was so uniquely hers. a taste you'd found yourself addicted to, always craving for more.

i can't quit you, i can't quit you, oh baby. i can't quit you, i can't quit you, oh babe

sooyoung pushed your head away and you kissed her inner thighs that were still slightly shaking. she had her eyes closed in a fucked out bliss that only you'd ever given her. you smirked to yourself and asked her sweetly, "who's on your mind now, angel?" sooyoung's eyes opened weakly and she hummed, "hmmm? s' you....only y/n. only want y/n." you placed a kiss on her cheek and laid beside her before she curled into your arms, tucking her head into your side. as you thought you'd finally won, sooyoung was beside you smiling to herself because she was the only winner, she always was.

you were only a pawn in her little game but she'd be lying if she said you weren't her favorite player. all this time people told you that she was obsessed with you, the idea of you. but in reality you were addicted to all of her, just another person hooked on the thought of winning the game. always under the impression that you were closer and closer to winning the grand prize, winning her over. but in reality you were just another piece in her puzzle. nevertheless, you'd never quit all that was park sooyoung.

i'm gonna regret it babe, babe, babe, gonna regret it, yeah, i'm gonna regret it...

[kamwilliamsonn]

pretty - Vivianne Miedema

request : here

of which Viv gets a little too drunk at one of Katie's parties

"y/n come join us, please!" Leah pouts at you, asking you to come and join with them.

"I think I should probably stay sober, mate, somebody has gotta look after you lot." You smiled at her, laughing as she slouches herself against you.

She drunkenly points across the room to wear your favourite Dutchie stood, clearly out of her mind. "Think she might need it more than the rest of us."

The blonde was staring over to you and Leah, a small pout on her face, one arm holding a glass that she's drinking far too quickly, while the other is holding onto the table to keep her standing.

You laughed softly and pulled Leah off of you, passing her over to Jen instead, and made your way over to Viv.

She hadn't even noticed you make your way over until you had plucked the glass from her hand.

"Hey, pretty, let's get you home, ey?" You mumbled softly, putting your arm around her waist.

Her head instantly leans down onto your shoulder - it was a struggle because she was a little taller than you - and nods tiredly. "y/n/n, I'm sleepy." She mutters out and you smile down at her.

"Hey, everyone! I'm gonna take Viv home, does anybody else want a lift?" Beth instantly took the invite and headed towards your car, climbing in the back seat while you help Viv into the front.

Ever the animated drunk, Beth talks to you the whole way to her house, only having her seatbelt on because you had forced her to.

Viv, on the other hand, sat quietly in the front seat - a comfort-loving drunk - her hand was resting on your knee, as she stared at you driving, her eyes flickered all over you, ignoring every word that Beth said.

Beth was the first to be dropped off, you walk her up to her door, your eyes flicking to Viv in the car, making sure that she didn't do anything dumb.

You grab her keys from her hands for her and unlock the door, watching as she collapsed onto the sofa and falls asleep instantly.

You grab two aspirin from your bag and grab her a bottle of water, leaving them on the coffee table next to her.

"Goodnight, Beffy." You mumble softly before leaving the house, shutting the door behind you and making sure it locks.

When you get back to the car, Viv is practically crying in her seat.

You instantly sit down and shut the door. "Hey, what's wrong?" You ask her, only to be met with silence. "Vivianne." You warn her softly, letting her know she should answer.

She looks over to you, and the pout and tears almost make you start crying yourself. "I thought you forgot about me." She mumbles.

You lean over and give her a soft kiss on her forehead. "I would never."

That makes the tears stop, her hand instantly goes back to your knee, drumming a little beat as you pull your seatbelt on and start the car once more.

Once you arrive at her house, you ask her for your keys, and see the tears form once more. "I left them inside. And Beth is the only person with a spare key."

"That's okay. It's okay, don't cry. You can crash at mine and we'll get your key from Beth in the morning, how does that sound?"

The blonde nods softly, a pout still on her face as you start the car again.

The moment you pull up at your house, you shut the car off completely, pulling your keys out.

You get out of your side and walk around to Viv's side. You unlock the door and help her out, wrapping your arm around her waist once more.

Her head drops into the crook of your neck and in her drunken state she starts to press soft kisses.

Your breath hitches softly as you try and ignore it, walking her up your steps, unlocking your door with your left hand - it wasn't easy.

You walked her up to your bedroom - you'd use the guest, your bed was nicer and you didn't want Viv to be uncomfortable - and found a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt that would fit her before placing them on your bed.

"I'm gonna grab myself some clothes and go get changed in the guest room, then, I will bring you some aspirin and some water, and you will go to sleep. Understand?"

"Can't you stay with me?"

"Do you really want me to?"

"Yes. Really." She nods energetically. "You're pretty, I wanna share the bed with a pretty girl."

"You're so drunk."

You still ended up getting changed in the other room, and she got changed in yours, you went to bed with her in your arms.

And the next morning, even with your hair a mess, and a little dribble dripping down your chin, she still thought you were the most gorgeous girl in the world.

And even with a pounding headache she made sure to tell you. Her head once more resting in the crook of your neck as she mumbled to you,

just how pretty you were.

What do you think? I feel like the writing sucks a little, and it could have been written better, but I adore the idea so- yay :)

[montammil]

Just a little hurt/comfort writing with Lawrence and Marshall. This is a pretty old WIP that I just did some editing on haha

CW: Stockholm syndrome, parental abuse, parental whumper, carewhumper, infantilization, platonic cuddling/pet names, non-sexual nudity, accidental bedwetting, victim blaming

...

In the past few nights, Marshall had been getting nightmares. They typically weren't that bad, since he hid them pretty well from Lawrence, but they were still very vivid in his memory, and he hated them. Sometimes they were related to Lawrence subjecting him to torture, and other times they had nothing to do with Lawrence at all. However, none of them were as terrifying as this one.

"I'm back!" Marshall sobbed, running to hug his parents. His real parents.

Instead of acting with happiness as he expected, his mother pushed him away. "Do you really think we'd want you to leech off of us again? We kicked you out, did you think we'd change our minds because you got yourself kidnapped?"

Scoffing, his father added, "I don't think he even got kidnapped. From the sounds of it, you wanted it. Isn't that right? You wanted someone to coddle you because you refuse to grow up?"

Marshall rapidly shook his head, but he didn't get much of a chance to say anything before he continued.

"It's disgusting how you think we'd want you back. From the sounds of it, you love him more than you love us."

Marshall's mouth hung agape for a moment. "That's not true! You know that's not true!"

"It is," his mother hissed. "Get out before we call the cops."

Next thing Marshall knew, he ran out of his parents' house, slamming the door behind him and running down the street. He eventually stopped to catch his breath, and noticed Lawrence sadly watching him, arms wide open for a hug.

Without thinking twice, Marshall ran into his arms, crying heavily. Lawrence didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Marshall.

"I told you this would happen," Lawrence chided gently. "Everyone hates you but me, Marshie. Everything I do for you is out of love. Come on." He dragged him away. "When we get home, I think you need a time-out in the basement."

With that, Marshall jolted awake.

He frantically looked around his room in search of any evidence Lawrence was there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, he wiped away his tears and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Just when he felt himself beginning to breathe slowly again, he felt the bed was wet. Marshall blinked away tears and threw the blanket off.

Sure enough, he had wet the bed. Marshall began hyperventilating again, trying desperately to remain quiet. What if Lawrence got angry? Realistically, he knew that wouldn't be the case, but it was always in the back of his mind.

Once he could finally calm himself, he carefully crept out of his room. Lawrence must've been asleep, because he didn't see or hear anyone else. After a few seconds of debating, he went to the bathroom and cleaned up, changing into a new pair of pajamas with shaking hands. When he checked the clock, he saw it was 2 AM. Hopefully Lawrence wouldn't hear him...

Marshall tiptoed out of the bathroom and carefully peeled the sheets off of his mattress, balling them up.

He felt so disgusting. His face burned with shame as he carried the dirty sheets and blanket to the laundry room, occasionally looking behind his shoulder just to make sure Lawrence wasn't lurking.

The washing machine made a lot of noise. It seemed deafening in the silence of the night. There was no way Lawrence wouldn't notice it.

Tears ran down Marshall's cheek at the thought of the inevitable punishment. Maybe he'd be left in the basement for two weeks instead of one. That happened last month; Marshall cried for hours until Lawrence let him out early.

"What are you doing up?"

Marshall yelped, whipping around. Lawrence's tone sounded accusatory, and so did his expression until he saw Marshall's tear-streaked cheeks in the dim light.

He didn't get a chance to ask what was wrong, Marshall was already crumpling to the floor and muttering incoherent apologies.

"No, hey," Lawrence hushed, rushing over to cradle him in his arms. "Don't cry. What's wrong?" Marshall opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out were blubbers. "Baby, why're you so sad? Please talk to me, I wanna help." He ran his fingers through Marshall's hair, which didn't seem to soothe him, judging by how loudly he wailed. "Shh..."

It took Marshall several minutes of heavy crying before he calmed down enough to actually speak. He looked up at Lawrence with those beautiful puppy-dog eyes. "I—I had an accident," he whimpered. It was too embarrassing to say he wet the bed.

Lawrence frowned sympathetically. "Oh, Marshie. Why didn't you wake me?" Marshall stayed silent, wiping away the remaining tears. "Did you think I'd be mad?"

Marshall shrugged. In hindsight, it did seem pretty stupid to worry about being judged about this from the man who was treating him like a toddler.

"I'm not mad. You know that, right? You know that nothing you do could make me love you less." He coaxed Marshall to look back up at him. "I love you so, so much. Nothing will ever change that." He brushed away some strands of hair from his forehead and gave him a kiss there. "Let's go get you a bath. Have you taken one yet?"

"No... I freaked out so I just changed my pajamas and put everything wet in the washing machine..." Marshall stared at the ground in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

Lawrence shook his head and held him closer. "No need to apologize, buddy. You know you can always tell me things like that." Marshall didn't respond to that. "Come on, I'll give you a bubble bath!"

It was sweet he was trying to cheer him up. Marshall attempted a weak smile in return and followed him upstairs.

Once Lawrence prepared him a bath, it smelled like honey and lavender, two of his favorite scents. Marshall eagerly got in, and relaxing became ten times easier just like that. He sunk in the bathtub so it engulfed up to the base of his neck.

"Is it okay if I go check on your sheets? Just wanna make sure you did it right," said Lawrence. "If not, then I can—"

"You can go. I won't drown myself," said Marshall half-jokingly. Lawrence looked slightly worried about that. "Go, I don't mind. You can leave the door open if it makes you feel better."

After hesitating for a few more moments, Lawrence nodded and went downstairs to the laundry room. Meanwhile, Marshall hummed quietly to himself to pass the time. The scent of his bubbles made him more relaxed, and it didn't take long for his eyelids to get heavy.

The only thing keeping him from falling back asleep in the tub was knowing he'd likely make Lawrence have a heart attack.

"Okay, Marshie, I'm back." Lawrence reentered the bathroom and took a seat beside him. "Feelin' any better?"

"A little, yeah." Marshall sank into the water a bit more, making a small wave splash out.

Lawrence smiled lovingly. "Good. And the sheets should be done drying before the morning. Until then, I can make us a cool fort in the living room, or you can sleep in my room tonight? What do you think?"

Marshall thought about it for a moment. "Your bed's huge. I'll take that for tonight."

"That works for me! But first, we gotta wash your hair." Marshall pouted. "Don't pull that face with me, mister."

In all truth, Marshall didn't really care that much. He let Lawrence wash his hair and dry him off with a towel.

After drying his hair, he dressed him back in his fresh pair of pajamas and lead him to the bedroom, where he had already set up a makeshift nest of pillows and blankets on the left side of the bed. Marshall almost cried again. Lawrence was the only person who paid attention to little things like how Marshall preferred tons of pillows.

Lawrence tucked him in. "Comfy?"

Marshall nodded. A light smile formed on his face, which turned into a frown once he noticed Lawrence leaving. "Where are you going?" He realized too late how pathetic he sounded.

For a moment, he saw surprise flash across Lawrence's features. "You want me to stay?"

The brunet wasn't used to Lawrence giving him a choice in things like this. Normally, he'd demand it. Marshall hesitated and averted eye contact.

"Only if you want to... it just feels weird sleeping in here without you." He had only slept in Lawrence's room a few times before, and it was when he was usually injured or sick.

"Aw, Marshie... of course I want to be with you!" Lawrence kicked off his slippers and climbed into his side of the bed, turning off the lamp as he did so. "C'mere. I love cuddling with you." Marshall found himself listening, against his better judgment. He buried his face in Lawrence's broad chest, feeling the strong arms wrap around his back. "Still comfy?"

Marshall exhaled through his nose. "Yeah. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Stop apologizing, bud. I want you to rely on me. I'm your dad." He felt a kiss pressed onto his head.

His dad. Marshall thought back to his dream. It was definitely an exaggeration, but the emotions were real. His parents couldn't even compare to how Lawrence treated him.

He hated comparing them, but it was hard not to think of it, especially now that his parents were fresh in his mind from that nightmare.

He broke down in tears again, despite his attempts to hold them back. It felt like a dam broke.

"Oh, honey." Lawrence held him even closer. "Hey, don't cry, kiddo. Are you thinking about something? Can you talk to me?" Marshall shook his head, hoping that Lawrence would just drop it. "Can you look at me? Look at Dad." It was easier to ignore the shame in the dark. Marshall tilted his head up and saw Lawrence's azure blue eyes. "There we go. There's my boy." Lawrence kissed his forehead. "If something is bothering you, especially to this degree, I want to know."

Marshall sniffled, and for a couple of minutes, neither of them said anything. Lawrence rubbed soothing circles on Marshall's back, and Marshall hid his face in Lawrence's shoulder, trying to forget the pain.

"You'll get mad."

"Try me," Lawrence challenged.

Marshall swallowed his pride, closed his eyes, and exhaled. "I was dreaming of my parents." Lawrence's hand paused. "My biological parents," he corrected, in hopes of not making him angry. "I was returning to them... and they didn't want me. And then you were there and I ran to you, and you hugged me. You took me home. But for some reason it really shook me up. Apparently enough for me to... yeah."

He felt Lawrence sigh. He wondered if he made him angry.

"Marshall..." Lawrence was so soft with him. Gentle. It made his skin crawl. "I think sometimes dreams mean something. And I think you know, deep down inside, that if you were to return to them, that's exactly what would happen."

He hated the thought of that. That he would go back to his parents, and they wouldn't want him. Yet he believed Lawrence.

"I know you love them. And I know you miss them. And it's normal to want to see them again. But if you return to them, they'll throw you away just like they did when they kicked you out." His tone was cold, harsh, but he held Marshall with so much affection it didn't feel right. "And I'm sorry about that. It's so awful that they don't want you."

Marshall never heard Lawrence become sympathetic, but a part of him knew why. Lawrence knew damn well that he was finally starting to make sense to him. He felt Lawrence squeeze him tighter, as if he'd float away if he wasn't grounded.

"But you have me." His voice was firm. Marshall didn't dare speak. "And I love you so, so much. More than they ever will."

These emotions were overwhelming. Marshall didn't know what to do, so he settled for staying clung onto Lawrence like a koala.

Lawrence rested his chin atop Marshall's head. "It's gonna be okay, kiddo. Just fall asleep, and we'll talk in the morning, if you still want to."

Marshall could only nod.

[babydollmarauders]

BABE — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

pt 2

summary: in which y/n’s biggest fear comes true, and she tries to work past it but inevitably can’t.

notes: this is all angst. if you’re wanting a redeeming and loving Jack then you will not find him in this, but i do have other fics like that.

warnings: cheating, arguments

useless notes: another Taylor Swift inspired fic. are we surprised? probably not. should i be working on the next part of the Midnights Fic List? maybe. but instead i just spent three hours writing whatever this is

i stare at my phone screen, no longer able to make out the photo but that doesn’t matter because it’s seared into my brain now. i close my eyes, letting tears roll down my cheeks, but all i can see is that photo. Jack, his hands on another girls waist and her lips on his neck.

i feared this day would come, i just hoped it never would. and i can’t help but put some blame on myself. was i not good enough? should i have come with him on the roadie? i know he’s said before that i shouldn���t feel pressured to go, but i know so many other WAGS do. maybe if i had taken the time off from work to come then this wouldn’t have happened. but i didn’t do that. and now here i sit, at home in our apartment, while he’s in Texas, probably peacefully sleeping by now, next to another girl.

when i had first opened up to Jack about my insecurities and my fears, about my past with men who previously cheated on me and strung me along because i was so forgiving, he had promised me this would never happen. told me i was the only one he ever wanted and that if he ever felt like he wanted to be with someone else, he would have the decency to break up with me first and not string me along. but here we are.

this photo wasn’t what i was expecting to see when i decided to open twitter. i was expecting lots of celebratory tweets after the Devils win against the Stars, but then this picture was the first thing that popped up on my timeline. the user speculating that Jack and i broke up. we didn’t.

i finally open my eyes again, my vision clearer now that the tears have spilled over, i run my thumb over the screen, scrolling through my feed.

—

@HUGHESLVR86: i see everyone on here sharing the photo from that girls insta story and speculating that Jack and y/n broke up but… have y’all thought about the possibility that maybe they didn’t? i know we all want to believe that Jack would never cheat but maybe we don’t know him.

- liked by @y/nontwt

@HUGHESISKARMA: guys, both y/n AND jack still have their pics together up on insta. leading me to believe that maybe they’re still together. in which case i feel for her right now. stop spreading that photo.

- liked by @y/nontwt

—

my scrolling is stopped by an incoming text from Jack’s brother.

—

FROM: Huggy 🧸

y/n, i’m sorry. i don’t know what he was thinking, if he was even thinking at all. please call me if you need someone to talk to. i’m here for you. even after you guys break up, you’ll still be my little sister.

—

Quinn’s sweet text only brings me more tears. not from his kind words, but from the fact that he thinks we’ll break up. because i know myself, and i know that if Jack comes home tomorrow apologizing and promising to never do it again, i won’t be able to get the courage to leave him. and i wonder what everyone will think of me. this isn’t like in the past. he’s in the limelight, everyone will know.

i fall asleep on the couch, crying and hoping that when i wake up, this will all have been a dream.

**

i wake up to the sound of the front door shutting and a heavy thud hitting the floor. and for a second, i’m excited to see my boyfriend. but then i remember why i’m on the couch. why my eyes are sore. it wasn’t just another night of falling asleep watching netflix. he cheated on me.

Jack’s footsteps halt at the living room entrance, and i look up to see him watching me. and when he sees my red puffy eyes and tear stains on my face, i know he knows that i know. his eyes are full of regret, that much i can see. he slowly makes his way over to the couch, gauging my reaction, and sits down on the other side, away from me. more tears build up in my eyes and i let them slowly roll down my cheeks, washing away the old tear tracks and leaving new ones in their place.

“you promised.” my voice is barely above a whisper, but it still cracks.

“i know. i’m so sorry, baby. i am. i don’t know why i did it. i was drunk and she came up to me and i just— there’s no excuse.” he shakes his head before placing it in his hands, his elbows resting against his knees. “i’m so sorry, baby. i didn’t mean for it to happen. and it won’t happen again. i swear. it was a mistake, and i- i- i swear on my life. it won’t happen again.”

i manage a weak nod. proving myself right from last night. i can’t leave. what is wrong with me? why can’t i leave? why can’t i just accept that he did it once and he’ll more than likely do it again, so i should get out of the relationship before he breaks me even more?

“okay.” i whisper. “i believe you.”

he looks up at me with bloodshot eyes and a hopeful face.

“you’re not leaving?” he asks.

“no. i’m not leaving, Jack.” i tell him. “i love you. and if you tell me it was a mistake and it won’t happen again, then i believe you.”

he moves to the cushion beside me, taking my face in his hands and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“i promise. i swear it. it won’t happen again.”

“okay.”

**

as i predicted, everyone knows. it’s been three weeks since Jack came home and confessed, and last night he took me on a date. i posted some pictures from last night on insta, and the comments have been all about what happened three weeks ago.

—

@y/noninsta just posted

Liked by @trevorzegras and 23,482 others

@y/noninsta: i’m a lucky lucky girl 🤍🪐

Load more comments

@user1: oh, she’s still with him??

@jackhughes: I love you babygirl

@y/noninsta: i love you to the moon & to saturn

@trevorzegras: cringe 🤮

@y/noninsta: your face is cringe

@user2: idk how she can stay with him after that photo

@user3: fr! i would’ve been out of there so quick

@_quinnhughes: that second pic was a jump scare. you put his ugly mug on here but not your pretty face sis?

@y/noninsta: this is why you’re my favorite hughes brother

@lhughes_06: @y/noninsta what am i?! chopped liver?! i at least deserve to be ranked higher than Jack

@_quinnhughes: @lhughes_06 bro wtf

@user4: wow, kinda just lost a little respect for her ngl

—

my eyes well with tears and i take a loaded breath. my heart burns, and when i close my eyes, it’s the same way it’s been the past three weeks. all i can see is that stupid picture. i thought i could do this, but it hurts differently than in the past. in the past, i was able to move past it until it happened again, but this time, my heart hasn’t stopped hurting. every time i look at him, my heart breaks all over again remembering that he was with another girl.

i set my phone down on the couch beside me, and stare at the wall. i know what i have to do, but i don’t know if i can.

“hey babe, i’m heading out with the guys.” Jack walks into the living room, slipping his jacket on. but when he sees me, he freezes. “hey, what’s wrong?”

“i can’t do this.” my voice cracks, and now that i’ve finally said it, i feel a weight lifted off my chest.

“what?” Jack comes to stand in front of me. “c’mon don’t say that.”

“no. Jack, i really- i really can’t do this.” i tell him.

“i thought we worked past this? i thought you said it was okay. i told you, it was a mistake.” he crouches down in front of me to look at my face, and the walls i’ve built to hold myself up finally come crashing down. i look at his face and all i can think of is that picture.

“i know but, ever since you admitted it, i keep picturing her lips on your neck. i can’t unsee it, Jack.” i stand on shaky legs and he rises in tandem. “i hate that because of you, i can’t love you. not like i used to. because if we keep doing this— this thing, then i’m just gonna continue to worry even more than before. every time you leave, i’m gonna wonder if you’re out there sleeping with another girl. again.”

“that’s not fair.” he shakes his head.

“you’re right. it’s not.” i admit. “which is why i need to leave, Jack. i really hope you can understand that. it’s not fair on me. to constantly have to wonder who you’re with. or what you’re doing. and i can’t take that. i can’t trust you anymore, Jack.”

“so you can come on roadies with me until you trust me again.” he suggests, and the thought just makes me even more upset.

“i can’t just drop everything to go on the road with you multiple times a month! i have a job, Jack.” i tell him.

“so quit your job. i make plenty to take care of us.”

“you want me to quit the job, that i’ve worked so hard to get, so i can come on the road and babysit you to make sure you don’t cheat on me again?” i ask. “which will provide me with nothing to fall back on when you do inevitably do something again, and i actually decide to leave.”

“but i’m not gonna do anything!” he defends.

“yeah, that’s what you’ve been telling me for the last two years and look how that turned out.”

“yeah, and i didn’t do anything for two years! you can’t cut me some slack?” he argues and i put my hands together in a slow clap.

“you’re right, Jack. you waited two years to cheat on me. do you want a medal? a trophy?” i say. “yes, you didn’t do it for two years, but you still did it eventually. after you promised me you never would. you broke your promise.”

“so you’re just gonna throw this all away over a mistake?” he asks.

“i’m not the one who’s throwing this away. you did when you decided to get with another girl. in public. i’m just making sure i don’t get hurt again.” i tell him. i make my way to our bedroom, Jack following behind me.

“y/n, i’m sorry. okay? i’m sorry! i made a mistake. i told you it won’t happen again.” i ignore him, pulling my suitcase from under our bed and start randomly throwing clothes and an assortment of my things inside of it. “babe, let’s talk about this. c’mon. yes, okay, i slept with another girl. yes, i was caught. but if you didn’t know, wouldn’t that have been worse?”

his words make me freeze, and a sinking feeling settles in my gut. i turn to him.

“caught? Jack, is this the first time you’ve cheated on me?” he avoids eye contact and i swallow a lump in my throat. “Jack. tell me.”

“no.” it feels like my heart has shattered in my chest. the fragments getting caught in my lungs as i struggle to breathe. when i finally let out a shaky breath, it turns into a sob and i collapse to my knees in front of our bed.

this entire time he’s had me fooled. playing the role of doting boyfriend. when instead he was going behind my back. i don’t even know how many times, but it proves he was lying when he said it was a mistake.

i feel Jack’s hands settle on my back, trying to rub it and soothe me but i push them off and collect myself. i continue rushing around the room, packing my bag faster than before. zipping it up, i pull it off the bed and walk out of the room again, Jack trailing behind me once more.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he tells me, when i stop at the front door, slipping my shoes on. i grab my keys from the dish by the door and unclip the house key, setting it on the table.

“yeah, i am too.” i tell him, opening the door. “bye, Jack.”

i step out, shutting the door behind me, my tears blurring my vision as i head out of the apartment complex and to my car. i’m able to place my suitcase in my trunk and slip into the drivers seat before i breakdown again.

i don’t even know where to go. Jack was the only person i had here.

i pull out my phone, typing up a text to my boss and telling her there’s been an emergency and i’ll be using my built up two months of paid time off, before scrolling in my contacts and typing on the name of the only person i can think of right now. i put the phone up to my ear, listening to it ring for a few minutes before they pick up.

“hello?”

“Quinn.” i don’t manage to get another word out before i let out another sob.

“i’m booking you a plane ticket right now. it’s okay, y/n/n. it’ll be okay.”

[thejujvtsupost]

Collar Crimes -> Pouring Rain

It’s technically not April (when i originally planned to write this) but life happens. I’m thinking the next one is gonna be how they met but lmk if you guys want something else. 💗

Notes: some of reader’s insecurities come out, Suguru’s a sweetheart, talks of violence and very light gore.

“Sweetheart?”

“‘M sorry! I’ll come back later- uh I’ll see you at home!”

(On a completely unrelated note, calling you sweetheart in front of everyone made your cheeks flush and heart flutter just the tiniest bit.)

This would be the first time you’ve interrupted his business. You should have knocked and now, on top of the humiliation of dripping water everywhere, you embarrassed yourself.

It was rare for you to go to Suguru‘s office, and certainly not unattended and unprompted. His building was closer to your evening class on campus than the penthouse and you were shivering and cold and completely soaked from the pouring rain.

Well, the rain wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t dark or for the car that drove by and drenched you.

“Leave.”

You flinched at his tone and bit your lip to stop it from trembling. You couldn’t let yourself cry in front of everyone and make it worse, you screwed up more than enough. Your head was already down and you were on your way out the door as fast as you could but you were blocked by the bodies of the other men leaving the room.

Oh. He meant the people he was meeting with, to your relief. Maybe he wasn’t too mad then?

“Not you bunny, c’mere. What happened? You must be freezing.” Warm arms wrapped around your shivering frame and held you close uncaring if he got wet too, a kiss to your forehead helped calm your anxiety from your interruption.

“I’m sorry for barging in, no one was out at the desk to tell me you were busy so I thought it was okay. I didn’t know- ” you were guided to the desk and onto the surface while he looked for something in the closet— a change of clothes.

“I don’t care about that, you’re always my first priority so never apologize. Why are you wet, sweetheart? I thought you had your seven pm class.”

“I did, but its raining so hard and my phone died so I couldn’t call anyone for a ride and my friends already left and I didn’t have an umbrella and I figured I’d just walk and try to be quick but then a car splashed me and I was so cold and tired and-” you took a big breath to calm down and stop rambling, “It was too much- dark too, and this was closer than going straight home.” You still felt bad for interrupting his meeting, but the warmer you got the less you regretted it.

Suguru closed the blinds to his office hummed in sympathy. (he never liked those damn friends of yours, they never valued you enough in his opinion and the fact that they left you there without even offering a ride only proved that) and started helping you out of the wet clothes clinging to your skin before placing them in a plastic bag to take home later. “You have my clothes here?”

He smiled, “You know I’m always prepared, but I figured they’d come in handy at some point. It’s just an outfit or two in a go bag for emergencies.” Your heart swelled, he was always so thoughtful when it came to you . “I got a few blankets and pillow too after you fell asleep here the first time, if you’re interested. I have to stay a few more hours but if you would rather go home I can have someone drive you.”

You shook your head, “I’d like to stay please, if it’s not a bother.”

“Of course it isn’t, why else do you think I have the blankets and pillow, bunny? You’re my bunny, you always have a place next to me.”

The tears started rolling, he wiped them away with large, warm tattooed hands and hugged you tightly to his chest. “Sorry, just been a rough day and I’m emotional.”

“I know, but you did a good thing by coming here. I’m proud of you for thinking of yourself instead of trying to get home on your own. Especially in the dark. You hate it, and s‘not safe for you out there.”

You were trying really hard, with your boyfriend’s help, to work on the part of you that felt less than and like a burden at times. It was difficult to unlearn the way you felt about yourself for years and years growing up but you were making great progress.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to hear what you’re doing for work? Isn’t it confidential?”

He just gave you a look and helped you slide on some socks.

“You should warm up soon, but how about a rest on the couch during my meeting for a little while, yeah? I’ll keep our voices down.”

You nodded and allowed him to wrap you in one of the soft blankets he spoke of before. “Wait here a second. I’ll keep it as brief as I can.”

“So we’re looking at about 50k in damages…”

Whatever they were saying didn’t really matter to you. They kept their voices low to not disturb you for the most part.

A newer member raised his voice once Suguru corrected him immediately. “Quiet down or I’ll cut your tongue out.” And there weren’t any other incidents.

prev <- index -> •

🏷️: @annoyingstrawberryballoon @missgab

[typicalopposite]

PLZ READ TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | Chapter 2/? | 5817 words

Prologue | Chapter 1 | ao3

I also made a Tommy Begins-esque tumblr story a little while back which ties into this fic, and since it won’t be added directly to the story I’ll share it here (killing two ideas with one fic… if you will 😂)

Parts: one | two | three | four of the backstory

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝… 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎

As soon as Tommy pulls Buck’s front door closed, every ounce of anger, all the annoyance, the jealousy—everything his mind had been so desperately clinging to up until this moment—dissipates. He doesn’t know what makes him feel worse: Tommy’s lack of anger that Buck had gone through such great lengths to uncover his past, Tommy not fighting him on the break up (regardless of the tears in his eyes, and the hurt on his face saying he desperately wanted to), or Tommy calling him Buck. 

Or, maybe they’re all equally combined in making it so the second that latch clicks, and he hears Tommy’s footsteps fade off down the hall, he immediately regrets everything. 

The intensity of it surges through his body and overstimulates him. He stands in the middle of his loft while the reality of what just happened—what he’s just done—comes crashing down onto him. He wants to scream, but he can’t breathe. He wants to chase after Tommy, but his feet are cemented to the floor. He squeezes his eyes shut, pinches his arm as hard as he can, and hopes this is just a nightmare and he will open his eyes, and have woken up. 

Instead, when he opens them all he sees is the closed front door. When he finally manages to break them away from that, he sees the flowers, the wine, and the card… He grips his phone in his hands… his fingers are already itching to call Tommy so he can beg him to come back. It was never supposed to come to this. Sure, he was upset… but not relationship ending upset. 

He feels so stupid, and hot-headed… he feels like an asshole… He feels like he definitely doesn’t deserve another second chance, or forgiveness for his once again loose and hurtful lips. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t call, and instead just goes back upstairs, and collapses onto his bed. 

He doesn’t think he really deserves to succumb to the tears building in his eyes, because he did this to himself; but if he does cry it out… at least the exhaustion it will bring might help him fall asleep. He needs to sleep; he has work in the morning. He doesn’t sleep, though. He just lays, curled around his pillow, and spends the night going through all of the pictures of them. 

What was supposed to be years, and years and years spent growing old together… now will only exist as yearly memories. 

Before he knows it his alarms are going off and he has no choice but to drag himself back out of bed. A pot of coffee, black, and an ice cold shower… do nothing to help the exhaustion. He doesn’t even change clothes before sulking out of his loft and down to his Jeep. The drive to the station feels like it takes an eternity. His head has never hurt this bad in his life. Not to mention…

…he now has to tell everyone he ended things with Tommy.

A new wave of dread, nausea, and exhaustion wash over him, and the amount of energy it feels like it is going to take to make himself get out and go face the music is far too great. He considers just driving back home; Bobby would understand.

“S’up Buck!” Eddie says, slapping the hood of the Jeep. Buck jumps so hard it causes Eddie to jump, too. “Whoa, you okay?” Buck looks out the window blinking slowly—because he is too tired to do much else—until Eddie starts to look concerned. 

“I– I’m fine,” Buck lies. “Just… tired.” 

“Tommy told me he was heading over there after his shift…” Eddie says, Buck tenses up, dreading talking about it. “The hell did he do when he got—You know what… I don’t want to know.” Eddie’s face relaxes back into his warm, bright smile—which has finally returned after months of it being nonexistent or just plain forced during everything that happened with Christopher. What’s Buck supposed to do, ruin that with his self-inflicted drama. 

No.

So Buck just goes along with it. He slaps on his best, cheesy, classic Evan “Buck” Buckley smile, laughs at Eddie’s discomfort from the images he put in his own head, and tosses all his woes and regrets into the negative thoughts bin.  He tiptoes around any mention of Tommy, he says the bare minimum when he must, he lies where it is necessary… 

He goes on about his day as if nothing—no major life-altering thing—has happened, and he makes it to the end of his shift managing to leave the team none the wiser about his relationship status. 

He does this for a week. 

Everyone has lives, and their lives are busy, so he plays on that and keeps them talking about themselves instead of him. Apparently Tommy isn’t too keen on sharing the news of their break up either, because he doesn’t mention it to Eddie or Chimney during their game on Thursday. Buck wonders how long he can avoid it; logically, as he gets back into his regular clothes (trying to not look at the picture of him and Tommy hanging up on the inside of the door he hasn’t been able to take down yet) he tells himself this was the last day. He hasn’t spoken to Tommy—not that he thinks Tommy wants to speak to him—and he hasn’t been able to get the courage up to reach out himself. He decides to break the news when he comes back to work. 

“What are you and Tommy doing tonight?” Chimney asks, stopping Buck just as he reaches his Jeep. Buck can feel the color drain from his face, so he keeps his back to him for a moment to compose himself. At least he remembers Tommy’s schedule for the near future so he is able to get out of whatever this invitation is with: “Oh—uh—actually Tommy has a shift today.” 

“I thought he said he was taking a couple days off,” Eddie interrupts. Buck is sure he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. His brain sputters to a stop rather than working on a back up plan, but before he is sure he has to come clean, Eddie snaps his fingers; “No wait, that’s right. He said he was taking time off after this shift.” 

“So you two finally have snagged a few days off together, then?” Hen chimes in, joining them at Buck’s Jeep. “He planning on taking you up to meet Mrs. K, yet?” 

Chimney lets out a dramatic Ooo; he nudges Buck with his elbow. “Those are the big steps, Buckley.” 

Buck tries not to react. 

They had made plans to take a trip up to NorCal to visit Tommy’s mom actually; before… everything. Buck has only spoken to her on the phone—never FaceTimed because she’s older and doesn’t like smart phones—because they were taking it slow. Tommy didn’t want to rush bringing Buck home to his mother; Buck didn’t push, his nerves always in hyperdrive at the thought of her not thinking he was good enough for her baby. 

Tommy’s an only child, and they are extremely close. It was such a big deal to him for her to meet Buck. Tommy swore she already loved him, and she made it seem as such the few times they had spoken. That’s all unimportant now, though… 

“Yeah— yeah, I know… right?” Buck says, a nervous (very unconvincing) laugh bubbling out of him. “We’re definitely taking some… big— big steps on our time off.”

Chimney narrows his eyes, and Buck is certain he is about to start asking questions. “I feel like this just pivoted into sexual territory,” he says, and Buck has to force himself to not sigh in relief. “And I’d very much love to not go there… so changing the subject—”

“Yeah, great… let’s do that,” Buck blurts before he can stop himself, nervously shoving his hands down into his pockets. 

“Uh huh,” Chimney says. “So anyway, do you have plans tonight?” 

Buck should say no. He should go home and get his head straight about all of this… he should consider calling Tommy… and if he decides to not—if he decides to stay broken up—he should figure out how he’s going to tell everyone. “I’m free,” he says instead. 

~~~

The bar is noisy and packed; it’s definitely doing wonders for Buck’s already pounding headache. He has to squint his eyes at the brightness of the dimmed lights just to navigate his way towards the table Chimney is frantically waving him over from. “Hey! You made it,” he says, moving further into the booth so Buck can sit. “Everyone else should be here soon.”

“Cool,” Buck replies. “Cool, cool, cool…” He swallows around the nausea that everything—the lack of sleep, the pounding headache, the entire situation—is causing. A young bubbly waitress comes up, pad waiting to take his drink order. “Water,” he tells her, and that’s enough to get Chimney curious. 

“You ok?” 

“Uh— uhm— yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Chimney cocks a brow, Buck knows why. “It’s just… I think I’m coming down with something,” he lies. “Figure I should avoid making it worse with alcohol.” 

Chimney keeps eyeing him like he’s not buying it, but Hen and Ravi thankfully walk in to distract him. Of course the distraction is short lived because both of them question his glass of water the second the waitress sits it down in front of him. “He says he’s sick,” Chimney fills them in.

“Buck’s sick?” Eddie asks, joining them. He furrows his brows at Buck, concerned. 

“I’m fine!” Buck manages to laugh. “I just feel like I could be catching something.”

“Keep it to yourself please,” Ravi says, letting Hen in before him so he’s furthest from Buck. “I can’t afford to get sick!”

Buck sighs, taking a sip from his water, and looks around the bar. “Is Bobby coming?” 

“Nah he and ‘Thena have the house to themselves tonight,” Hen replies. 

“Oh god… I don’t even want to think about what they’re doing,” Ravi quickly says, cringing. Everyone agrees. Buck kind of feels a little bit better. 

That is until he sees an oh too familiar body slump down on a stool up at the bar. What the hell… he thinks, as he watches Tommy order a drink from the bartender. No one else knows he’s there; the booth they’re in isn’t facing the bar… Buck was just looking around and happened to see him, and since he has not looked in their direction since Buck spotted him it’s likely he doesn’t know they are there either. 

So back to Buck’s original thought; what the hell… is Tommy doing here? He was supposed to have a shift… not that he owes Buck an explanation of his whereabouts… but still. 

Then some guy walks up to the bar, right to the seat beside Tommy; and Tommy looks at him and smiles. It probably shouldn’t make Buck’s blood boil the way it does… but it most definitely does. The next thing he knows he’s out of his seat and walking towards them. He thinks someone at the booth asks where he’s going; he thinks he hears someone ask if that’s Tommy; he thinks he is maybe just overreacting about halfway across the room…

Then Buck is spotted by the guy— he looks up directly at him, and he is very familiar. Buck stalls; it’s Sal. There’s a sudden relief in recognizing the person there with Tommy… not that it matters if he were on a—

Sal says something to Tommy, then grabs his face and kisses him. 

Buck feels like the wind is sucked completely out of him. Tommy jolts away from Sal and frantically turns around, locking eyes with Buck instantly. His eyes go wide and he scrambles to his feet and towards Buck, who is already walking back to the booth as fast as he can. He blinks back his tears and tries to not think about the many eyes on him (most notably from his team). 

Tommy catches him and grabs his arm just before he reaches the booth. “What?!” He snaps, bitterly. 

“You don’t understand— that wasn’t what it looked like!” Tommy cries, he sounds winded, or desperate. Buck is hurt enough (justified or not) that he doesn’t care either way. “Evan, please let me—” 

“Oh,” Buck scoffs. “So now it’s Evan again?” 

Tommy deflates, he lets go of Buck’s arm and stares at the floor. “That was— I’m sorry about that…” he says softly. 

There’s a split second Buck wants to just let it go. He was considering trying to fix things already… This is his chance, and Tommy is willing to talk, but he sees Sal watching them from the bar and the anger comes rushing back. “What’s there to talk about? You don't have to explain yourself, Tommy… it’s not like we’re together anyway, right?” 

“What?!” He hears Hen ask from the booth. 

“Since when,” Eddie adds. 

“Apparently long enough for him to already move on,” Buck says. Sure, it’s petty… but he’s having a hard time making himself care. He grabs his keys off the table, throws some money down towards the tab, and is walking towards the exit… leaving everyone watching after him in confusion. Everyone, of course, except for Tommy who is hot on his heels. 

“Evan, stop…” 

Buck ignores him for the most part, getting all the way to his Jeep before he finally turns around. “No, Tommy, you stop. Stop making excuses… or trying to make me understand. It’s— it’s pointless… I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Then what do you want to hear? I’ll tell you anything you want to hear!” Tommy’s eyes already look red even just under the dim street light. “You’re right, I was way too guarded about my life…” he continues. “So I’ll tell you everything: About Jay, about the army, about my childhood… I don’t care— I can’t— Baby, I have been losing my mind this past week… I can’t live like this—without you. Please…”

Buck feels like his heart is being ripped in two. “You sure seemed like you were living just fine without me in there…” he says, biting his tongue after. 

Tommy covers his face, Buck can hear him sniffling and whimpering behind his hands… he has never seen Tommy like this. It makes him want to grab him and hold him and apologize. He should be the one apologizing! The thought gets shoved back down by the louder, angrier ones. “I’m so sorry, I fucked all this up, I know that. But that was just Sal being an idiot!” Tommy says. “He thought it would make you jealous…” 

“So you let him kiss you to make me jealous?!”

“No! I didn’t know— Evan please…”

“Maybe you should… just stick with Buck,” Buck says. Tommy’s face falls more. He takes a step, his mouth falls open like he’s going to speak. Buck turns back to his Jeep, opens the door and climbs inside. “I’ll— uh… I’ll see you around.” Then he pulls the door closed and jams the key in and takes off, leaving Tommy standing there, dumbfounded. 

He spares one glance in his rearview mirror—catches Tommy just as he pulls a fist back and connects it with the light pole. 

~~~

It’s not like Buck has never been through a break up before. He’s been through a few of them, actually. Bad ones… This time shouldn’t be any different.

Except for the fact that there are a plethora of reasons this time is completely different. 

Everyone likes Tommy, for one. He has potentially been Buck’s only partner that not a single person in his life has disliked. His parents even like Tommy. (That is saying so much it makes Buck sick to even think about having to tell them it's over.)

There’s also the little (extremely significant) detail of everyone telling Buck to leave this whole mess Gerrard stirred up alone. Now, Buck has to face the fact that he, in fact, did the exact opposite, then used that as the fuel that ultimately blew up the relationship. 

It shouldn’t have surprised him when everyone tries to tell him maybe he needs to step back and reconsider this decision. It shouldn’t have surprised him when after all was said and out there they seem to sympathize less with Buck and more with Tommy. It really shouldn’t have surprised him—after he walks in to work the next day, and overhears Chimney telling everyone Tommy shattered his hand with that punch—when all eyes turn judgingly onto him. 

Doesn’t make it suck any less that it seems like no one is on his side. 

“Of course I’m on your side,” Maddie says, after he confides this to her. She reaches across the table to squeeze Buck’s hand. “I just want you to be one hundred percent sure this is what you want. I mean… you were so happy together.”

“And then I found out he was hiding stuff from me…”

Maddie’s face shifts, she tries to shift it back but Buck sees. She sighs: “Was he really hiding it from you… or had he just not told you about it… maybe because it was a difficult memory.” 

Buck scoffs and pulls his hand away. “But you’re on my side…” 

Surprisingly Maddie’s face doesn’t soften. “That’s not fair,” she says. “I can be on your side, and still point out the flaws in your reasoning, Buck.” 

And even if he wants to argue with that, he can’t. 

Hen and Chimney haven’t necessarily been avoiding him at work, but they haven’t necessarily tried to stop Buck from avoiding them—like they normally would—which tells him all he needs to know about where they stand. Eddie has remained neutral, but in remaining neutral he has distanced himself from them both. (Well… he has definitely distanced himself from Buck.) Bobby gives Buck that worried papa bear look everytime he sees him, but he pointedly doesn’t bring it up… 

Ravi is— At least Ravi is still Ravi. He blurts out needing to call in air support when they are at difficult fires. He asks if Tommy is still available for car problems, given everything… He asks when they are all going out again—Buck included—as if anyone wants to be around Buck at the moment. 

Regardless… Buck would have never guessed when the Buckley-Kinard divorce era finally happened (maybe a part of him always planned on this ending, like his relationships always do…) Tommy would be the one to be granted custody of the 118 family… his family. 

That jealousy that had taken root inside of him from Jay, begins to grow and blossom; logically Buck knows the rage he feels from it should be aimed at himself, but instead he turns it outward. He projects onto everyone around him who clearly sees Tommy as the fan favorite. Clearly no one wants to see Buck’s side of the story… Clearly they don’t care about him as much as they used to act like they did…

Clearly he is reaching. Logically he knows this. Unfortunately he is too lost in his own head to stop himself. 

Then the 217 starts to reach out. 

It’s about a week after the blow up at the bar. First, it’s a call from Lucy, asking him—demanding him, really—to talk to Tommy. “He’s a wreck, dude… just— I don’t know… Just consider hearing him out?” 

“Hear him out about what?” Buck snaps back. 

“About all of it! God damn, Buck, do you even fully know what you’re mad at him about?!” 

“I— what— what the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course I do!” 

She laughs, actually laughs at him and hangs up. 

Next it’s an older pilot, James McCarty, who comes into the station requesting to speak to the kid. He just wants him to know Tommy is starting to slack at work. He’s getting careless. Buck looks from McCarty to the team eavesdropping from upstairs. He feels his face heat up. “What am I supposed to do about that…” he asks, trying to ignore how bitter and petty he sounds. 

“Look, kid, maybe whatever you two had was one-sided… I’m letting you know what’s going on.” Buck tenses his jaw, pushes back the bile that statement brings, and how it reminds him of what he said to Tommy about Jay. “I guess I just figured he meant a little more to you than that, maybe I was wrong.” 

Buck itches to correct him, instead he stands firmly planted in place and watches him turn and leave. 

When reaching out to Buck gets them nowhere the 217 starts reaching out to the 118… and then the 118 starts trying to convince Buck to talk to Tommy; which only makes the anger grow despite the little voice in the back of Buck’s head telling him maybe he should listen to them. 

“Why are you acting so childish about this, Buck?” Hen blocks the exit to the lockers when he groans and tries to leave. “Stop getting so defensive, no one is attacking you… It’s a legitimate question.” 

“I really don’t want to do this, Hen…” Buck says. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest and leans back into his locker. Hen gives him that look; she’s not backing down either… they might be here a while. “I told you what I found,” he tries, and her glare intensifies. It’s true, in a last ditch effort to not be painted the bad guy in this Buck told them everything he found—ignored how grimey it made him feel to bring up Tommy’s personal business—and just stood there waiting for them to jump ship. It didn’t happen, of course… 

“Buck, all that proves is that you went digging for something to be mad about,” Hen sighs. “Look… I get it, okay? I’ve been there… feeling like you’re doomed to be unhappy in love… and then you find someone who is different. Someone who is good, and honest, and just too perfect to be real. So what do you do? You sit and wait for it to go south… and when it doesn’t you end up sending it there yourself.” Buck shifts his feet, looks at his hands instead of Hen… so maybe she won’t be able to read him like an open book… so maybe she can’t tell he knows she’s right. “Buck, you remember when you asked me what I thought the secret to happiness was?” Buck finally looks at her… “I really thought—I’d hoped you’d finally figured it out…” Then she’s gone, and Buck is left with that to weigh on his mind the rest of the night. 

It’s still on his mind when he walks back into the station for his next shift. 

Everyone is gathered around the engines, looking up to the second floor; to where Bobby and the captain of the 217 are having a very serious looking conversation. “What’s going on?” Buck asks, about ninety percent certain that conversation is about him. Everyone looks at him, no one says anything.

“Buck,” Bobby calls down, both men now looking at him. “In my office.” 

Captain Collier says something to Bobby then turns and starts down the stairs, eyes remaining fixed on Buck until he feels like he might come out of his skin if he doesn’t get away from them. He pushes through the small crowd and goes into Bobby’s office to wait. Bobby barks for everyone to stop being nosey; he sounds pissed… Buck dreads this conversation. 

Bobby walks in, shuts the door behind him, and slowly crosses the room to his desk. He sighs as he drops down into the seat, and motions for Buck to do the same in the chair in front of him. “I’m sure you already know what that was about,” Bobby starts, running his hands over his eyes tiredly. Buck nods. “Listen kid, I’m not about to tell you what to do; I can’t demand you go talk to Tommy. I do, however, think you should.” 

“Cap I—” 

Bobby throws a hand up, and Buck snaps his mouth shut. “Look I don’t know the full story, and it's not my business. I don’t want to play favorites; I’m not here to take sides. If you don’t want to be with Tommy… don’t be with him. I’ll set my opinion on that to the side and let you be a grown up and make your own decision. But Tommy is not the only one who needs closure from this; you do too, Buck.” 

“What— what do you mean?” 

“You’re letting this drive a wedge between you and your team,” Bobby says. “You have to have each other's backs out there and you are barely speaking to any of them.” Buck goes to say it’s more they aren’t speaking to him, but is met with Bobby’s raised hand again. “I want you to consider talking to him…”

Buck fidgets in the chair. “I doubt he wants to—”

��Buck stop… if Tommy didn’t want to talk to you he wouldn’t be grieving this hard over losing you.” 

“He— he’s grieving…” Buck says quietly. 

The look Bobby gives him is almost comical; it's so exhaustive. “Have you just been tuning everyone out who’s been trying to tell you that, kid?” 

Buck shrugs; he kind of has. “I don’t know why he’s grieving me.” 

Bobby groans: “I really didn’t want to get in the middle of this,” he mutters, before pushing himself to his feet and walking around the desk. “You ever think it could have something to do with him loving you? Or maybe that you actually do matter to him.” Bobby sighs. “You know… I was so happy to see you grow up in this relationship, given your history… but it seems like maybe it got a little bit too real— too serious— too grown up. So you turned and started running in the other direction ” 

“But— But he—”

“He what, Buck? Didn’t tell you about something from his past.” Bobby crosses his arms and sits on his desk. “Look, kid, just because you have no problem over sharing doesn’t mean everyone can. Sometimes things are too big, they hurt too bad… Did you ever think maybe he was planning on telling you one day? Bottom line is he didn’t owe you that information… and you let it sit and fester until it turned into a problem… and rather than fix it you got mad that people called you out on it.”

“Wh- what about him kissing Sal… he seemed to have moved on pretty—” 

“Again… did you even stop to think maybe you had it wrong?” Buck falters; he did think that… he didn’t really dwell on the thought long though. “Chimney said Tommy talked to them after you stormed out. It turns out Sal was in town, so Tommy took off a day earlier than he was going to, to catch up. He confided in Sal about the break up, and Sal suggested going out for drinks… Sal saw you were there, and thought maybe if he gave you a little competition… you would get jealous and take Tommy back.” 

Buck is… confused, if not dumbfounded… but mostly confused. “Kind of a bold move,” he says more to himself, but Bobby still laughs. 

“Yeah Sal’s good for making some questionable heat of the moment decisions…” Bobby says with a sarcastic laugh. “Kind of reminds me of someone, actually.” 

Buck can feel his cheeks heating up. “So— so your saying I should try to fix this?”

“I’m saying you should take a moment and look at this whole situation. Then do what you feel like needs to be done… whatever that may be.” He tells Buck to go home, and to take a couple days to get this figured out; that he wants it resolved and for Buck to have a clear head (and hopefully Tommy will too) when he comes back to work. 

Buck reluctantly agrees, and leaves, trying to avoid everyone and their curious judgmental stares as he walks out of the station. He climbs into his Jeep, feeling every bit like the terrible person he’s sure everyone thinks he is—feeling like he definitely deserves to feel like it, too. 

~~~

Buck spends most of the morning trying to work up the courage to call Tommy. It’s past noon before he finally manages it. The call goes straight to voicemail. He waits an hour and tries again. Again, straight to voicemail. Buck groans and collapses on his bed. Maybe he should just go over there…

Of course, Tommy’s not home. 

Buck contemplates just sending a text for him to call after he gets off… except when he gets back in his Jeep he drives straight to Harbor. He’s met out in the lot by Collier. “Damn, that was quick,” he laughs. “If I’d have known Nash would be able to get you over here that fast I’d have come to him to begin with.” 

“Uh… yeah, well…” Buck feels like his face is on fire. “Is— Is Tommy here?”

“Should be back soon,” Collier replies. “He is flying over Angeles Forest; got some calls about a possible fire… a ground crew already checked it out, we’re just following up. You’re more than welcome to wait for him here,” he offers. 

Buck should say no, if the glares around the station give any indication how the time will be spent… “Uh, yeah— yeah, sure, that would be… great,” he says instead.

Collier leads him into the station, towards where Lucy and Morris are sitting. The two are watching him and whispering to each other instead of their usual greetings—teasing jokes about how much Tommy talks their ears off about him. “I’ll let him know you’re here,” Collier says, gesturing for Buck to sit on the couch; both firefighters get up and leave the area as he does. 

Not even an hour passes before Buck is too antsy, awkward, and annoyed to stay seated. 

He goes to Collier’s office, knocks, and pushes the door open. “Hey listen I’m just gonna—”

Like a mirror of Bobby, Collier throws a hand up, silencing Buck. “Are we certain this isn’t a prank call,” he says into the phone, before lifting his walkie to his mouth and panickedly radioing Tommy, only to get no answer. “I understand— it’s just that I recently spoke to him, ma’am.” Buck wonders if Collier told Tommy he was at the station. “I want to be sure they are positive they saw a helicopter go down—” is the last thing Buck hears. 

Then he is moving. 

Away from Collier’s office, out of the station, across the lot to his Jeep. He doesn’t even put his seat belt on before he is driving in the direction of Angeles Forest. 

Buck throws the Jeep into park at the edge of the forest; doesn’t even lock it and slams the door closed behind him. He doesn’t even know what direction to go in. He doesn’t even know if they saw it go down in this forest, or in a forest at all… he just knows he has to find Tommy. 

He is running blind, he knows that. The forest is massive and his chances of getting lost are far higher than his chances of actually finding Tommy. 

But he has to try. 

He runs until he loses track of which way he’s going, or where he’s already been. Until the land is no longer flat that he is running on, and he is leaping over fallen trees and boulders and brush. Until his legs—specifically his bad leg—are burning and aching and ready to give out… but then he just pushes himself to run faster. 

And as if by some miracle… he finds the helicopter.

Off a little ways in the distance—just as Buck is almost ready to give up hope… or at least slow down for the sake of his legs—he spots it. Part of the propeller is broken off, the front window is busted out, the tail is snapped in half… and it’s caught between two trees, about thirty feet above the ground. “Oh god…” Buck gasps, faltering his running to take in the sight. The helicopter is tilting and the door has fallen open. “Tommy.” 

He is hunched over, seemingly unconscious… possibly worse—Buck can’t let his mind go there, not yet. He has to stay focused because Tommy is literally hanging out of the open door. All that is holding him in is a single strap across his chest.

Buck tries to pick up speed, but his legs are so tired; too tired. He screams at them—at himself—to go, move, run faster. He has to get to Tommy. He has to save him. He has no idea how… but he has to. 

“I— I’m coming!” He calls out to him, doubtful that it’s heard; between the noises all around them, and the fact that Tommy doesn’t appear to be alert, Buck is sure he doesn’t hear—

Tommy moves.

He groans.

“T- Tommy,” Buck gasps, barely above a whisper. He thinks there’s no way he is heard that time but still Tommy’s head lifts, his eyes instantly meet with Buck’s. His face is covered in blood and so swollen that one eye is completely closed; and yet he smiles. He looks directly at Buck and even from the distance Buck still is away from him, he can see the wave of relief that seems to wash over Tommy. Like just seeing Buck has made what is an incredibly dire situation into a simple walk in the park. 

He shifts his body, and the helicopter creaks. The limit that the tension being put on the belt can take is being tested. “T- Tommy! Tommy, don't move!” Buck screams; reality rushing back to him as he tries again to somehow get more momentum into his now limping feet so he gets there faster. 

“E- Evan…” Tommy calls out to him, and Buck suddenly loves his name. He swears he will call and thank his parents for giving him that name and even allow them to use it again. If he can just reach the trees and get Tommy out safe. 

Buck mentally pleads with his legs to move faster. He has no idea what he’s going to do; he will climb up to him if he has to, crawl across the wrecked helicopter and then carry Tommy down on his back… if that’s what it takes. He doesn’t care. He will do anything.

He’s so close. 

There’s another creak. 

A snap. 

The belt suddenly goes slack. 

It no longer matters how fast Buck runs… there is nothing he can do. Tommy falls from the helicopter—his hands frantically reaching around, trying to grab something to stop it—and he collides with the ground just as Buck reaches him.

My little tag list for this fic 🫶 @bucksxkinard @30somethingautisticteacher @do-androids-dream-ao3acc @girlwonder-writes … I think that’s everyone (let me know if you want to be added 🫣😂) hope y’all like the next chapter of angst!

[allur1ngs]

how do you feel bebe would be at a sleepover?? like i can see it as lusher suggesting it, and since the lee mansion is huge ykyk they actually have a theatre room that anyone barely uses… so everyone chills in there for the night and has a lot of wild fun!!! even hyo standing there either in her suit or cute pyjamas would be really funny and the girls would make fun of her for it 😭😭 hyo can never win poor girl

one thing that i love about this mafia au is that everyone talks about hyo never gets a break but then comes up with another situation where she's being tormented by the other girls😭 you guys are so funny ily

but for a sleepover...

you're so right that lusher would be the one to suggest it!! i can see all the girls jumping at the idea for a night in together instead of working! the only hard part is getting bada to agree...

well it didn't actually end up being hard because all you did was ask her once and she said yes.

anyway!! lusher would go all out!! she'd buy everyone onesies and decorate the large theater for a movie marathon with things like fairy light, fluffy throw pillows and buckets of hot popcorn!! she'd also decorate the living room so everyone can sleep there when they really get tired (the couch could all comfortably fit them, it's massive)

and hyo...she'd be sitting in the theater seat behind you, STILL wearing her sunglasses even though she's literally in a theater and it's dark as hell. she does NOT care.

and the girls clown on her for looking like a statue sitting behind you while everyone else (even bada), is having fun. they'd be like, "you're wearing a cute onesie, and you're sitting there with a frown on your face! you look like a grandpa!!"

...okay but imagine you guys are having a pillow fight and bada joins your team (there are no teams, she just doesn't want you to get hit) so she deflects any pillows that come your way and hits them back at the girls

(lets not forget that these girls have CRAZY strength and although they think they can control it, bada is not taking the chance that they might slip up and accidentally hurt you)

but any pillow that bada somehow misses deflecting, hyo is there to defend you!! she grabs the pillow and throws it right back!! she actually starts to smile and laugh, as well as make fun at the girls back for being "weak". and hyo's also the fastest and sneakiest out of all the girls so you know she's getting some good hits in.

but hear me out!! all the girls gang up on them and dogpile onto hyo and bada until you're left defenseless! then lusher jumps in and starts tickling you!!

bada and hyo are struggling and complaining for the girls to get off while they helplessly watch you roll around on the floor crying tears of laughter!!

but eventually after the long night, when everyone's asleep on the couch or in their sleeping bags if they decided they wanted to sleep in one instead, bada wakes up and takes you into her arms, carrying you princess style, your sleeping head against her chest and your legs dangling from her arms, all the way back to your shared bedroom.

she doesn't want you to hurt your neck or get sore while you're sleeping so she lays you in bed and crawls in, cuddling you until the sun comes up.

[hum-suffer]

Can you write a piece on the relationship between Nakula and Sahadeva? Pretty please 🥺

These are the kind of anons I live for!!!!! Thank you for the ask, and sorry for being so late! I hope you like this

Scars, blood and flesh.

The first scar Sahadev ever has is from Nakul.

It's not a big scar, it's barely the size of half a fingertip, but it's there. Right on the bridge of his nose.

It happens when Sahadev and Nakul are sparring, Sahadev has been asking for Nakul to convince their father to take him to the forest the next time they go to collect fruits and Nakul is tired of hearing the same thing over and over again and for a heartbeat, he forgets himself and pushes too hard and the wood of his lathi breaks skin, instead of resting there in warning.

Sahadev doesn't cry. It's a surprise, considering that he's only five years old, but the boy doesn't weep or wail. The tears fall from his eyes in reaction but he doesn't show the pain.

Madri twists Nakul's ear and yells at him, telling him that he's a coward and he's stupid for hitting his younger brother even in sparring. Kunti tries to hold her back as Pandu tends to Sahadev's nose, Yuddhishthir standing in the tow. Sahadev waves away all of his brothers and climbs in Pandu's lap as Madri yells at Nakul,"He's your brother! Your blood! And he's the youngest of the lot of you and as an elder brother, you should be protecting him from harm, not harming him! Whatever harms him is your enemy!"

Nakul sighs and doesn't reply back to her, bowing his head to show that he's sorry.

Later, when everyone else has gone to sleep, Sahadev turns on his side to find Nakul sitting up, sniffling softly and holding his arms to chest in a pseudo hug, nails digging into his own biceps.

Sahadev sits up too. Nakul seems startled by the moment but quickly wipes away at his eyes and tries to smile at his little twin. "Why are you awake so, Sahadev?"

Sahadev blinks at Nakul. "You're awake."

It seems that the younger one doesn't care to elaborate and that is the answer to Nakul's question. Something softer blows up in his chest like a bubble and Nakul turns his head away.

Sahadev pokes his shoulder. "Do you sometimes wonder if we, as people, have a free will or are we just puppets to the wish of Prajapati, with our karm phal sprinkled in our fate?"

"Sahadev, what are you even talking about?"

"Well, you aren't talking about what you want. I thought that I may talk about what I want." The cheerfulness leaves his and Sahadev smiles softly at his brother. "Talk to me, twin. What are you thinking?"

The tears come back again in Nakul's eyes and he cannot look away from Sahadev's eyes, the stars in his big eyes. Nakul will forever be a slave to Sahadev's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sahadev. I did not intend to hurt you. I lost control of myself. I should not have, I am aware, and I will definitely work better but, please, forgive me." His voice starts cracking halfway through and Sahadev leans on his shoulder, closing his eyes.

"I forgive you, Nakul." He says, voice soft. "I know you would never wish to hurt me. Accidents happen. For that matter, I am also sorry that Mata yelled at you so much."

Nakul shakes his head. "I did deserve it."

Sahadev doesn't deny it.

They fall asleep, Sahadev's nose pressed onto Nakul's shoulder and Nakul's arm around his own shoulders.

Two weeks later, they both realise that the marks on their skin will not go away. Sahadev's nose has a tiny darker patch of skin and Nakul's biceps have crescent shaped scars that are almost invisible unless inspected closely.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

The day Madri and Pandu die, Yudhishthir tries to hold Nakul to his chest and console him but Nakul kneels over and sobs, hitting the ground in his frustration and never realising that he's drawing blood, not until he hears Sahadev throwing up somewhere in the corner and real life comes back to him.

The stain of red blood on his saffron clothes makes him freeze for a moment but he pushes away Kunti and rushes over to Sahadev, who starts to sway dizzily. Nakul is not strong enough, he cannot hold his twin in his hands like this when Sahadev is falling over and they both fall over backwards. Nakul tries to protect his twin— he couldn't protect his mother, his father, he has to protect his remaining family, he has to take care of his little twin— but he fails.

Sahadev lands on a patch of rock and grunts, one of the sharper rocks having broken his skin and formed a cut on his side.

Fascinatingly, Nakul stares at his hand and Sahadev's side and their blood is the same and he knows it, intellectually, hes always known it, but seeing it, at this moment, has Nakul gasping for air.

Their blood is the same. Nakul spilt Sahadev's blood too. Sahadev is coloured in Nakul's blood too. They are the only two people in the world who are the sons of Madri and Pandu, born with the blessings of the Ashwini Kumars.

"Twin," Sahadev mumbles senseless as their brothers crowd around them and bring them water. "We are the same."

Nakul can't help but agree in dizziness.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

The thing about Sahadev's anger is that it's rare, but it's absolutely destructive. Nakul is more likely to snap and snarl at the smallest of things, but Sahadev let's his anger build, shimmer and dance under his skin, scratching the surface every so often.

The first time that Sahadev shouts in front of their family is when Yudhishthir accepts the invite to the Dhyut Sabha.

"Oh, don't give me that!" Sahadev says, strangely condescending,"All of us, our personal servants, our clothes, our chariots, Krishnaa's palquin, the children, their clothes— we have to travel all of that to Hastinapur for a two day stay and come back with all of that? Do you remember how far it is? And Krishnaa has just delivered a child, so has Bhabhishri Shubhadra and Bhabhishri Karenumati, are we really going to leave the state without an emperor just for Dhyut?"

"It's family we are talking about, Sahadev," Yudhishthir tries to speak in that soft tone he's always used for Sahadev only. In some ways, Sahadev is somewhat a child of Yuddhishthir's, the youngest of the brothers. He always has a soft spot. "You must never abandon your family."

Sahadev steps back incredulously. "They abandoned us! Left us to die! Hell, they even tried to kill us! Is that not enough for you, jyeshth?"

Nakul steps forward and wraps his hand around Sahadev's bicep, yanking him back to make him look into Nakul's eyes. "I understand your distress, twin, but enough. Remember yourself."

Sahadev stares at Nakul for a moment, eyes darting all over his face before he yanks his hand back and stumbles back. "My family is not formed of blood, twin. It is formed of tears. And between us, we all shed tears because of them. They did not sympathise with us nor did they do justice by us."

"For Pitamah," Arjun tries to say, "We need to go there to meet him. He hasn't seen his great grandsons."

"Call him here!" Sahadev throws his hands up. "I'll set the room for him by my own hands, hell, I'll go there to escort him here. We live in separate states now, we share no roof with them, stop trying to share our happiness with them! Did they care before insulting our mother or our wife?"

Sahadev doesn't realise he is shaking until Nakul wraps his arms around him, tightly enough that his chest hurts while breathing. Sahadev scratches at his twin in futile effort to make him let go but Nakul holds him fast and close.

He doesn't realise what happens after that, but Nakul is slowly lowering them both to the floor, the glittering red makes it look like they're both kneeling in a lake of blood.

Nakul rocks him back and forth, a hand caressing his hair in a way that hasn't been done in years. Sahadev doesn't remember the last time Nakul raked his fingers through his hair like this. Perhaps before their marriage to Krishnaa. Or before that.

"We are the same, twin," Nakul says as he feels Sahadev sag against him. "One and the same. Tell me. Tell me."

Sahadev feels his hands, previously scratching at Nakul, fall to his sides. "They don't love us. Pitamah keeps comparing jyesth to Pita Shri and it has made jyesth want for the need of his approval, to show that he will never be what Maharaj Pandu was and he will never leave his family." He looks up at his elder brother helplessly. "But we are his family. They're demons, in the guise of family. They will only stop when we are dead. We had our escape, we have our Kingdom now. We can leave. We are allowed. This little piece of happiness. We are allowed to be safe. I don't want to be another Maharaj Pandu. I don't want to leave my children behind to wail for me."

And. That's it.

Their brothers may understand what Sahadev says, but they cannot feel it. Nakul does. Sahadev's nail scratches leave some barely there scars on his sides and back and they burn in the air but Nakul gathers his younger brother in his arms and stays.

Yudhishthir may think of Sahadev as somewhat of his child, but it is not secret that Nakul has always been exactly what Sahadev has needed. And sometimes, the difference between them is much more than minutes and Nakul feels as though he is embracing his child, as Sahadev's head lays on his chest and red eyes look up at him in hopes that he will advocate on Sahadev's behalf and get him what he wants.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

When they are walking up the mountain and Sahadev falls, Nakul is instantly on his knees.

No warrior has been able to bring the son of Madri to his knees, and yet, as his twin doesn't open his eyes, Nakul knees on the white snow and wails. He's begging— to anyone who is listening, his brothers, his wife, gods, demons— he's begging for his twin to at least stay with him a little bit longer.

Sahadev looks old in death, Nakul thinks numbly. The grey in his hair is starker, the wrinkles more prominent. The scar on his nose is still highlighted.

Nakul has lost everything. Father, mother, step mother, other blood relatives, his own son, nephews, his position, power, everything. And yet, the void in him has never been emptier as it is now, when Sahadev's chest is no longer rising and falling.

He has never lived in a world where he has to walk away from his twin.

And perhaps that is the reason, that barely five feet away, Nakul falls down, too. And perhaps that is also the reason, that instead of snow, he feels his twin's arms welcoming him to death.

[tripleglitchwriting]

Hello everyone, I’ve been having a bit of a tough time so here’s a short VERY angsty-venty fic

Also not beta read, sorry.

Blue Flowers

TFP Bulkhead x gn Human reader (platonic)

CW: Character death, Grief, mourning, ANGST!! Heed the warnings!!

Some say “to love and lose is better never having loved at all”. I agree, to an extent I suppose. When you love someone it can be the best feeling in the world- be that platonic, familial, romantic, or anything else. And when you lose them, it can be the most devastating thing you’ve ever felt. Everybody’s been through it, and everyone will go through it. Life and death, black and white, sky and sea.

==========

“Do you miss him?”

“Of course I do. I miss everyone I lost in the war.”

“I miss him too.”

The stars were so beautiful the night you had that conversation with Bulkhead. They barely lit up the sky on Earth, but you knew each and every one could bring day like the sun could. It was a frightening to find out aliens lived among you and hardly any of humanity knew it. At least they were nice. Most of them. The ones you’d met at least. They were more human than some of the people you’d seen.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? You didn’t do anything.”

“I know, I just- I just. I don’t know. I don’t know. How… do you do this? I can’t even imagine what it would have been like to… to be there when….”

“Yeah, well, that’s what we signed up for.”

“…Are you not, like, upset? At all?”

“Of course I am! It’s just… ‘been through it so many times… it never loses its sting though. It hurts more every time.”

“Well- well don’t you want to get revenge? Don’t you want to hurt them back? Why can’t we just- just- UGH!” Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, joining the streaks that had already stained your face.

“I do. I really, really do. And I have, when it happened before. But killing never made it any better. It never…. I never got the relief I was looking for.” You didn’t respond that time. Instead you sat up on the grassy hill you were stargazing on and hugged your knees to your chest. Bulkhead’s usually bright optics were dimmed in the darkness. A light you had known to be comforting shaded with a grief you had never known him to show.

“I… I just can’t stop thinking…. I can’t stop thinking about how he’s- he’s-” you broke into a sob, “he’s not gonna come back.”

“I know, I know. Trust me, I know.” Bulkhead cupped his hand to you back in a contorted version of a hug. Head radiated off it, but you never felt colder. For awhile you didn’t move. And neither did he. Stoically, he watched you bawl and release the pain you undoubtedly felt. When you slowed down to a sniffle, the courage to ask a question you already knew the answer to made its way to your throat.

“Does it get better?” Bulkhead smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah it does. Promise.”

“Okay.” You managed to whimper out before collapsing into a crying mess again- but this time he put out his thumb for you to cling to. You squeezed it tight, and he brought his other fingers closer to your back. The embrace lasted for a long time. Long enough for you to fall asleep in his grasp.

When you were deep in slumber, he found it to be a good time to move back to base. You didn’t wake up at the bright flash of the groundbridge or the mildly bone rattling effects it typically brought. The last thing you saw before you went off to a dreamless rest was a very big hand putting a comparably tiny sheet of fabric around you.

It wasn’t something you experienced yourself, but from what you heard, Bulkhead spent the entire next day setting up a memorial. He put all of his friend’s favorite things together. No one spoke to him other than to check on his well being. When it was all said and done, the only thing left was a grave labeled “Wheeljack”, and blue flowers left on its topsoil.

[fairly-linked]

Haven (Time x Depressed!Reader)

TW: Depression.

The bustle of the inn seemed like a stark contrast to the heaviness of Time's heart. He'd watched you receive a letter from the postman not too long before they arrived in this town; but what really bothered him was seeing you wipe the tears from your eyes. Everyone saw it; but you were not the type to let yourself cry in front of anyone, so you bit back your tears and told them you were fine.

Time doesn't know what the letter was about; but seeing you cry like that... pained him. He realized he'd never seen you cry before. You were extremely resilient; only he knew of your rough past. He was the only one you ever actually told the whole extent of it to.

Though here he was, several hours later in the inn's dining hall with all the boys. The only one missing, however, was you. Time sighed, knowing you'd probably gone to bed a little early. He told you beforehand he'd have you room with him; he wanted to leave you with a choice, but he felt like it was a bad idea, since he was the only one that could really read you well enough to know when you needed space.

After eating, each of the boys stood to head up to their shared rooms, himself included. Really, he just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were at least okay...

But as everyone else filed out, he stopped and glanced back as a thought crossed his mind. You probably hadn't eaten anything, so...

Time sighs softly, bringing it upon himself to fix you a small plate and bring it up to you, along with some water. As he climbs the stairs with your meal in hand, he can't help but worry about you. He knows you're taking whatever that news was pretty hard right now; but he also knows better than to smother you, for he knows how dire the situation could turn.

As he reaches the room you two share, he carefully turns the handle with his elbow. The room is dark. Were you sleeping already...?

"(Y/n)?" he questions softly. You don't answer, but he knows you're not sleeping; he can tell by the way he hears your shallow breathing.

"...I brought you a plate, dear. I figured you hadn't eaten... I'm turning on the lamp here, okay?"

You don't say anything. Time sets the plate and glass of water on the nightstand and flicks on the lamp. He sees you on the bed-- or rather, he sees the top of your head. The rest is under the blanket.

If it weren't for the heavy context of the situation, he'd probably laugh. Instead, he sighs, placing a hand on your shoulder as he sits on the bed next to you.

"...I know you're having a rough time, sweetheart. But if there's anything I can do, let me know. You're free to talk to me about it, and you're free to not say anything at all. Either outcome is perfectly fine with me."

After a moment, he feels you move. He glances down at you, seeing the rest of your head slowly emerge from under the blanket. You don't look at him, but he's okay with that. He places a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair.

There's no words to be exchanged. He knows there's nothing he could say to make you feel better, to take your pain away, but...

...He would in a heartbeat if that were the case. But for now, he'll stay here for as long as you need him to.

Slowly, the eldest hero leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. After he removes his lips from your temple, he stays hovering over you for a moment, still stroking your hair, and just being there with you. He doesn't say anything at all.

After a couple minutes pass, he sits up, deciding to give you your space. He stands, turning to brush his hand over your hair one last time before speaking softly.

"I need to go make sure the boys haven't gotten into trouble, okay? I promise I'll be back, (y/n). There's food on the nightstand here if you get hungry... But at least have some water, dear."

Once more, he kisses your head before heading toward the door. You say nothing, and he casts a glance over his shoulder at you before leaving. Perhaps you had been asleep after all...?

He leaves the room, checking on all the boys to make sure no one has destroyed anything or gotten hurt. The only one that did was, of course, Wind; the blonde child had somehow broken the headboard of the bed. The knob on top of the headboard was what he'd somehow managed to pop off, but Time put it back together, telling the kid to make absolute sure nothing else got broken. At this, Wind was sad that his favorite partner Wild had to be replaced with Legend.

The poor kid decided to go to bed early that night.

After making his rounds, Time came back to the room. As he enters, he notices the lamp is still on, but the plate is half-eaten at least, and the water is gone. Time smiles; at least you ate and drank some water. It made him happy.

He strips off his armor finally, leaving him in his undershirt and pants; takes off his boots, turns out the lamp and joins you in bed, keeping a safe distance so as to not startle you or make you uncomfortable.

But the hero smiles as he feels you roll over, snuggling up to him wordlessly. He chuckles, wrapping an arm around you.

"I'm right here, sweetheart. And I always will be. You won't ever be alone again, I promise..."

"...I'll be your safe haven."

[elficially-done-with-life]

Not Safe Anymore

Pairing: Maeglin x reader

Summery: Your husband is gone for a long time and when he returns, something heavy seems to be weighing on his soul.

Warnings: slight mentiones of torture and Morgoth

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You had known immediately that something was wrong, when Lómion had returned later than usual from his excursion to look for suitable places for further mining.

Normally he came back after three days, and it had always been three days in which you could hardly sleep, worried about what might be lurking outside the city walls.

But this time he had been away for almost two weeks. And nobody else even seemed to notice. Only when you spoke to your best friend Rog about it did he and a few others seem to realise that Lómion had disappeared from the face of the earth.

But everyone seemed to just accept it when Lómion returned and said he had just lost the way.

Sure, he had spent most of his time in the city walls, like you and almost everyone else in Gondolin, and before that he had been in Nan Elmoth. So it was not unreasonable that he had gotten lost.

But you knew Lómion and you knew when he was lying to you and when he wasn't, and this time you were sure that what he was telling you wasn't true. That there was more to it than that.

But what worried you even more was the fact that he seemed to flinch at loud noises. It was such a slight flinch that the other people around him seemed to miss it, but not you. You knew him too well for that.

He hardly ate anything and always seemed to be absent when you weren't talking to him directly.

One night, shortly after he returned, you once again found yourself unable to sleep.

Lómion's worrying behaviour just wouldn't let you go, no matter how exhausted you were.

He himself had fallen asleep a while ago. In the last few days, he'd always looked so much more tired than usual, so you weren't surprised when he fell asleep straight away.

You had no idea what time it was when a soft whimper and a jerky movement pulled you out of your thoughts.

At first you thought Lómion had woken up and got up to get a some water, but when you looked up, you saw what was really going on.

Lómion's face had contorted into an anxious grimace and he was twitching back and forth. Whimpers kept coming out of his mouth and tears were running down his cheeks.

The last time you had seen him cry had been at his mother's funeral. He had had nightmares, but none of them had made him cry.

Normally, you would simply wake him up during such a nightmare, but seeing him in this state before you, you just sat there frozen, unable to take your eyes off your beloved husband's tear-streaked cheeks.

"Lómion?" you whispered absently, but he didn't respond.

Instead, he whispered in his sleep, but his voice was distorted, as if he was in great pain.

"No- please-" he gasped in vain, "I- I- no- Morgoth- Gondolin- "

His fingers stretched out as if he were trying to push something away, but they simply reached into nothing.

"Betrayal- " he continued to whisper, "Traitor- me- " and then in a very shaky and slightly louder voice: "Help!"

That finally brought you back to your senses. Still with a very queasy feeling in your stomach because of the words he had just said, you bent over carefully and gently shook his shoulder.

"Lómion?"

You winced as you realised how much your voice was shaking.

Suddenly his eyes opened wide in an expression of utter panic and unspoken fear.

He shrinked back from your gentle grip on his shoulder and curled up, raising his arms protectively over his head. "Please stop," he gasped, his whole body trembling, "I- I- please do not hurt me again. I know I- "

"Lómion," you interrupted his babbling softly, "it is just me, your wife. Y/N. Everything is fine."

It took a moment, but soon Lómion was looking at you from under his arms. The panicked look was gone from his eyes and he seemed to be able to see more clearly again.

Then he buried his face in his trembling hands and began to sob desperately.

You didn't touch him again for fear he might get scared again, but you said reassuringly: "It is all right. It really is. I am here to help you, my beloved Lómion. You are safe."

At these words, he looked up jerkily and then shook his head.

"What do you mean?" you asked softly, trying to express all your love and affection for him with your gentle gaze, "What do you want to tell me?"

"We- we are not safe here anymore." he whispered and immediately the words he had mumbled seconds ago came back to you. Was he- had he been-

You sucked in a sharp breath. "My dearest Lómion, did Morgoth stop you from returning to the city earlier?"

His eyes were full of fear as he nodded.

Then something suddenly dawned on you. "Can you- can you not speak of it?"

He nodded again and more tears escaped his eyes.

You were not surprised. Morgoth was known for his brainwashing and you didn't know anyone who had been able to fight it.

You cautiously reached out a hand, but paused just before you touched him. "May I?" you whispered gently and Lómion nodded weakly.

So you put your hand on his tear-stained cheek and began to stroke it.

"Did he want to know where the city is?" you asked, although you already knew the answer. He nodded.

You took a deep breath. "You told him, did you not?"

Lómion nodded again.

"It is all right. Everything will be all right." you whispered, although you couldn't quite believe it yourself yet.

"Sorry." he whispered softly, but you shook your head.

"Lómion, my dear dear Lómion," your voice trembled as tears ran down your cheeks. "You had no choice. I am just glad you are back."

"Do you not hate me?" he asked quietly, looking ashamed. "I would understand if you no longer- "

"I love you. I do not think I would have done anything differently in your situation." Slowly, you leant forward and gave him enough space to pull away before gently pressing your lips to his brow. "You were so incredibly strong." Then you sighed. "We have to tell the king."

Noticing Lómion's fearful look, you brushed a few strands of hair from his face. "Not now. I think tomorrow will be soon enough. And Do not worry. You are like a son to Turgon, he will understand. At least he will try his best to."

Lómion didn't look particularly convinced, but he nodded.

Then he asked quietly: "Can you hold me?"

Instead of answering, you pulled him close and he buried his face in your chest.

"I will take care of you," you whispered softly into his hair, "No one will ever hurt you again if I can help it."