: drink up、 nicholas — 〔+18〕 ──── · x reader ॱ 💬 ִ
。꒰ 💬 ꒱ cw : drinking, plying, nursing / hand-feeding alcohol, clingy nico, marking, drunk nico, sub nico, whiny nico, no explicit sex scenes, mature elements.
music blasted through the bustling streets of Taipei. crowds cluttered the tight alleyways. every corner filled with groups of messy, drunk college students. rows of bars and clubs falling in a perfect parallel heaven, just what you needed for the night.
you tagged along with a few friends for the night —nothing outrageous, no intention of picking up on a “one-night thing”—phone wasn’t accepting any new numbers, just the same group chat that pinged 400 times a day.
you threw on a lazy, tight tank top and a loose pair of baggy jeans, the kind that barely sit around your hips, the tank top leaving a peak of visible midriff skin. your bag rested over your shoulder, pressed uncomfortably deep into the skin, keychains jingling behind you with every step, announcing your arrival.
you wandered around the streets aimlessly for what felt like eternity. your eyes blurred the directions until all that was left was your intuition. feet stumbling around until you finally led you to an oddly quiet bar, no large groups of people covering the dance floor, unlike the packed clubs where music trickled through the thin walls. the music was low, not a slow tempo, but a volume that was far more hushed compared to neighboring areas.
the lights emitted a serious red, cramming every inch of the dance floor, just hardly hitting the tables—where your sights met your friends' silhouettes.
your feet brought you first, body moving just behind the hasty pace you prance at, bag charms chiming— the melody catching up to your friends’ familiar ears, their heads turn— all but one.
nicholas’s back faces you, a broad length that engulfed most of your vision. his hands planted on opposing ends of the table, slumped over the pile of empty shot glasses, napkins, and plates.
your chest hit his back, arms wrapping around his wide abdomen, fingers fisting into the delicate black fabric of his shirt. he reeked of alcohol, a bitter mix of everything you could think of— no clear notes of what wasn’t drunken, it clung to him like an intoxicating fragrance. he flinch forward, legs unsteady, his lips froze, parted, mid-sentence. letting your arms slowly untangle free around him. you peaked over his slouched shoulders. his hiccups hit against you, a thick waft of bitter-sweet soju followed his breath. his hair was messy, sunglasses covered his weary eyes, t-shirt was slightly stained and wrinkled. he turned to you, hindered and sluggish, lazy moves with his unsteady state. the table turned to you, pausing their conversations. their eyes all gave a knowing look, telling a collective story… or warning. the group seemed mostly sober— an occasional shot or two shared between, but nobody was as clearly wasted as nicholas. he was a light weight— surely he wasn't too deep into the night, but the effect were catching up faster than he could run.
you tried to comfort him, take him out of the bar— but he refused. he clung to you like a signature scent. resting his throbbing, dizzy head against your shoulder. his words slurred, mumbling against your ear. you nod along, trying to juggle every ongoing conversation, along with the whiny, clingy kitten hanging onto your side. “why aren’t you listening to me~?” he paw at your tank top— tugging the fabric, fingers holding the small drift of bare skin. his pout carries the tone, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. with every word, he stutters deeper into your plush skin. hands ghost your waist, moving to pull the sunglasses off— as if they worked overtime to block out the absent sun of midnight, tightening them back into his hair, pinning his short black hair.
he leaned down on his chair, face lit by the dim lights, legs spread ever so slightly, boxers peaking from his shirt that raised with every lengthy stretch. soft whimpers escaped his dried lips involuntarily. he nudged you again, burying his cheek against your shoulder. “come on, don’t ignore me~….” he whined, big glossy eyes staring up at you, sharp, yet carryinga weak, admiring gaze. his lips pout narrowly, cheeks rinsed a deep pink, circulating across his face— seeping like ink into his neck. a silver chrome hearts necklace drooping on top of his shirt, catching the deep red lighting. the top of his hair tickling your neck— your heart pounds through your chest, deafening you just enough where every conversation mixed into a single head throb. loud enough to where you swore someone could hear it, swore somebody could see the way your hands shook, the way your body stuttered with every move. hesitant, nervous, reaching for items to busy your brain from his intensely close presence. feeling the heat of him radiate onto you, warming your cold arms. “yixiang— stoppp your practically drooling all over me.” you nudge his shoulder, scarcely jerking him back until the ghost of him still hugs you. feeling the heavy heart pounding, weight lifted off of you, letting your dizzied head spin one last time. he looked back at you, a small bit of damage covered his face— his sensitive form melting your love-drunk heart. his once devilish, flirty smile now replaced by a small, gentle pout.
the night carried on, laughing, shouting, and small friendly bickering between the group. all but for nicholas, he sat in his chair, arms crossed, falling into the deep cushion and hardwood with every passing second. his cheeks slowly lowered the intensity of their color, now only coated by a small, gentle pinkish-red that scatter from his cheeks over his nose. he huffed every occasional comment, scoffing at the stupid jokes being exchanged. all until he tugged onto your side one last time.
you stood above him, head already thrown back, about to down the putrid, small glass of liquor. your hair tickling your neck, tank top sticking to your skin— the sudden gesture broke your behavior, freezing, feeling his hands wrap against your waist in a familiar way— too handsy for your friendship. he stared up at you, hands shifting down to your hips— eyes pleading, twinkling beneath you. your eyes meet— no, they lock. fixed on his sharp eyes, the way they ease when looking at you.
the countless times he stared at you with nothing but pure affection, all while you were too blind to notice. lost in the gut wrenching feeling that hit with every thought of him. too scared to face your own burning bad desires.
his eyes darkening, carrying a subtle hint of light that you couldn’t distinguish. his eyes dart between you and the small glass, shirt barely hitting his lower stomach, legs bouncing anxiously. his hair was slightly messy, only pinned by sunglasses to hide just how much of a drunk mess he was. he hiccuped words, barely letting comments go without slurring them together.
he gulped, watching his adam’s apple bob before his lips parted, a thick, smushed sentence of mandarin and english, he fell forward onto you, head sink against your abdomen. you felt the cold frames press to your bare skin, his fingers toy with your tank top, then he lifted his head, slow and steady, thoughts reconnected to make one simple sentence. “can you pour that for me…” his eyes shot to your glass, hands tightening around you, fingers dinging into your skin.
and so you did.
you bent to him, his eyes stared up at you, never once cowering from your sight. he unhurriedly inched off the chair, falling barely to his knees before you. you stare down at him, the weak yet pathetic way he seated before you. his earring snags the dim lights, glowing just barely. sunglasses pushed back his silky black hair, his cheeks' shade grew more harsh, a deep, almost reddened hue. he tilted his head back, eyes wet, a strong, sparked gaze. the over head light reflected in his black orbs, and a thin layer of sweat blanketed his neck. his lips parted, and in an instant, it all happened.
your hand guiding his chin up ever so lightly, a gentle hold on his soft skin. you shove the cruel glass to his dusky rose lips, waiting for his small nod of approval before tilting it back, his head falling back with the glass. the thin liquid pouring down his lips to his chin, layering to his throat. leaving a slick trail over his pale skin. he watches you, a deep thirst lingering before the bitter alcohol. the way he became so small under you, following your every move like an unbreakable order. his lips pressed tightly, the liquid dribbling down as he hesitantly swallowed, his brows furrowing, glossy eyes breaking connection with you. your soft hand gently smacking his cheek. he squeezes his eyes gently, lips slick, a whimper ripping from his throat. his head hurried down to his chest, until it met with you again— a shaky and weak “mm… thank you~” followed his deep, raspy voice.
it continued for the night, he begged you to keep feeding him the shots, kneeling before you like a statue. even if he was about to black out, he swore it was his last.
sticking onto you, whining in your ear, to even gently pressing his lips to your neck— anything to get your attention. his behaved lips faltered, just for a second, sucking on your skin. other hand pressing you deeper into him. all while the thick, heavy scent of alcohol sat with you.
synopsis: sleep comes easily for murata fuma, anywhere anytime. unless he's with you. in that case, he'd rather cling to you like glue fighting the urge to snooze away, even if he really needs to
genre: fuma x gn!reader, fluff, suggestive, established relationship
cw: cursing, sleepy clingy fuma, heavy kissing, suggestive, teasing ⋆ wc: 1.9k
a/n: this was supposed to be for fuma's bday but its late ehe. either way, i just had to write this cuz look how cute he is!!! wanna hold his cheeks and let him sleep. want him, love him. also first time i actually went under the expected wc, woooo!! okii enjoy the fic yall (^ヮ^) -> please don't copy or translate ~^^
it was peaceful; the living room dimly lit despite the floor lamps illuminating the organized space. inhale, exhale. walls decorated with accidental scuffs and silly photos of friends, family, and your precious boyfriend. you wrapped the knitted blanket around yourself a tad tighter as the air-conditioning quietly hummed, exhaling a chilled breeze to circulate around the shared area. the room was your sanctuary.
thump.
your head shook, mouth slipping out a small chuckle at the light sound. how long does he plan to keep this up? the day had long since crept into the late night, clock hands nearing the numbers eleven and six, soon to be eleven-thirty.
“he knows he’s overdue on sleep yet he’d rather play games first? unbelievable,” you faintly whispered, eyes finally drifting away from the small words on your book to steady on the figure in the opposing chair. you smiled. there sat a very sleepy fuma, recently dyed bangs falling gently over his eyes, head lightly nodding down every few minutes before bobbing back up as if nothing happened. his mouth hung the slightest bit open, soft sighs slipping from his pouty, blush tinted lips as his body relaxed against the cozy material of your furniture. every last bit of his being radiated this drowsy air that he just refused to accept.
thump.
you stifled a short giggle as you watched his expression turn to a frown for a split second before relaxing back into place. something about the way he tried to fight against the temptation of sleep, restraining himself from giving in was laughable, a surprisingly wholesome sight.
an indescribable warmth filled your heart. being in a relationship with fuma, you weren’t one to argue with how and who he spent his spare time with. he’s a grown adult with a full-time career doing what he loves with who he loves. there was no reason to be mad about something like that, especially when, despite his hectic schedules, he still found time to spare and share it with you.
so whether he spent his free time with you catching up on each other’s day, his members sharing silly stories and laughs, his family bonding over a home cooked meal or by himself opening another set of pokémon cards as he waited for his game to load, you respected all of it like he did with yours… however, there was only so much you could tolerate.
thump.
“okay, that’s it. let’s get you to bed,” you chuckled, pushing yourself up with the blanket still wrapped tightly around your body. his eyes fluttered open at the sound of his phone falling for the nth time today. he reached down to pick the device off the floor, screen still glowing bright with the settings function popped up mid-game. his thumb must’ve clicked it by accident.
“i’m fine,” he rebutted, hand moving to cover up his mouth, face contorting to suppress the yawn that wanted so badly to make itself known. “swear ‘m not tired yet.” an obvious lie.
fingers slipped into his hair running through the soft strands that framed his tired face. tears brimmed the lower lashline, the apples of his cheeks dusted with pale hue of pink, yet more signs of his fatigue taking over. staring directly at him with an unwavering stare, you deadpanned, “fuma, honey, you dropped your phone because you’re falling asleep.”
“was an accident,” he mumbled quietly, voice barely audible even in the muted room.
“really? which time?”
“...well–”
“i personally lost count after the third drop. you?” your strict tone cutting through the silence made him pause from talking back. he knew you were right. the side of his mouth ticked upwards, a breathy sigh leaving his tongue as your fingers traced down the side of his face, curling under his chin with a firm hold. “come on.”
the natural flush of his cheeks climbed up to the tips of his ears, embarrassed from the way you caught him in a clear lie and shy at how easily you took charge of his carefree self. fuck, they’re so hot like this. seeing you all determined and reliable wasn’t a new sight, but with him usually taking the lead out of his natural instinct, it sure as hell wasn’t a sight he saw often.
he wanted to argue, get you to back down, but… if me refusing to sleep causes them to act more dominating over me, you can sign me right up. truly an unfair experience. the power you had over him with every little action you made was unbelievable.
“fuma,” your hand reached out towards him, face automatically smiling as he immediately obeyed, placing his hand in yours. the heat of his palms blended into your own, the pad of his thumb grazing over the texture of your skin as if he were trying to commit it to memory. so uniquely you.
with a groan he pushed himself up: 10% because you tugged him upwards and 90% because he planted his feet on the ground to make it easier for you. practically a team effort. without warning, fuma flopped against your figure, heavy arms wrapping itself around your neck as he leaned the majority of his weight on you. naturally, he closed his eyes once again in tiredness. what a cute yet inconvenient way of thanking you.
“ugh, fuu. this is what i get for caring about your health,” you whined and pushed back, face scrunching up to get some of his weight off you. “you’re welcome by the way.”
he shook his head, burying his head by the crook of your neck. god, even with your small comments, every day he fell more and more for you. “mhmm. thank you, pretty.” voice a low hum with a grin proudly deepening as soon as he saw his words take effect. he waited but you didn't answer, so he leaned up to your cheek and planted a gentle peck. flustered stutters slipped as he pulled back satisfied at his small act of love. so cute.
before he could do anything else heart flustering, you wrapped your own arms around him, slowly moving your joint bodies towards the bedroom with the occasional grumbles. “for someone who just said they weren’t all that tired, where’s that awake energy gone?” at this point, you were practically dragging his feet along the floor.
you turned and pulled his arms from your neck, watching fuma plop onto the bed with a sleepy smile. “it went into loving you,” he bluntly stated, legs spreading just slightly, encasing you in his muscular arms before resting his head on your stomach in comfort.
“ugh, shut it.” you cringed, shutting your eyes in disgust making a sound of disapproval as you felt his laughter rumble over your stomach. it annoyed you how he knew even the cheesiest words sounded like honeyed compliments in your ears. “you definitely need to sleep after that.”
before you could even take a step back, his grip around you tightened, shoulders stiffening to the touch. “fuma?”
“don’t wan’ you to go.”
“my love, i have to clean up the living room. i’ll join you later.” gently, you placed a hand atop of his head, stroking the smooth strands of dyed hair while you allowed him to pull you closer. “you can sleep with eevee for now while i finish the dishes, right?”
your eyes drifted over to the side, a particularly shaped object catching your attention. a small eevee plush resting among the collection of other pokémon related pillows, plushies, and merchandise that he adorned your room in. the sight of the item drew a smile from your face, heart softening at the darling memory of him fanboying at you finally sharing an interest in his adorably, partially nerdy passions.
he pressed a delicate kiss on your stomach, the cotton fabric of your (his) shirt doing nothing to stop the warmth of his plush lips from seeping through. one by above you bellybutton, another nearing the side of your waist, then another just under your ribcage. with each brush of his mouth across your body, you couldn’t help it; melting in his hold until you slowly sank yourself to straddle his lap, arms enveloping you as you both acknowledged that he won this battle.
he stared at you for a beat longer, shaking his head in response. “it isn’t the same, is it pretty?” his hands rested on your hips massaging the fat that covered the pelvic bone, whispering sweet nothings about how good you looked. that’s when you felt it, that pounding pulse that stretched over your chest, the lull atmosphere of the late night making you give in to his wishes.
“i want you tonight. please stay with me.”
slowly, he placed a hand at the back of your neck, pulling you down, closer into his hold. and before you could get a word in, his lips pressed against yours. kissing you with the utmost care, perfectly slotting between your own as you sighed into it. “please,” he begged as your hand tangled in his hair, tugging his head up so you could deepen the kiss.
holds tight, almost like each one was afraid of losing the other. you rested a hand over his chest, the erratic thumping of his heart slowing down to match the rhythm of your own breathing. his teeth nibbled on the swollen skin of your lips, slipping his tongue. every sigh, kiss, whimper that he ripped from your throat, his eyes further squeezed shut at the melody ringing in his ears, tempted to suck on the tip of your tongue to draw out another sweet sound. a shaky and weak groan left his lips, pulling back to rest his forehead against your own as you both caught your breath.
the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk seeing a string of saliva split, falling over your slick lips. his thumb carefully swiped over the clear fluid, popping the spit-covered thumb into his own mouth, tongue grazing the pad with a satisfied sigh. “you can do that. can’t you, pretty?” he asked, tired voice sounding deep and raspy while he played with the hem of your shirt.
you absentmindedly nodded, head in a daze from his kiss. his lips moved to litter pecks across any area exposed, sucking flushed marks at the skin by your neck. with every moment that passed, all the tension in your body melted away, dissolving into his warmth. “come now.”
his arms soon picked you up, body feeling weightless in his hold, soon settling the both of you under the thick, cozy sheets. you shimmied yourself into his warm embrace, grinning in delight as the sound of his light chuckle reached your ears. “thank you for caring, pretty.” he mumbled, exhaustion and heavy eyelids finally taking over.
the sight of him, thoughts coming to a rest with his mind drawing into a peaceful slumber, made your heart flutter. eyelashes casting long shadows over the top of his cheeks, lips kissed swollen parting with each exhale, slim fingers and calloused palm clinging to yours as, even in a deep slumber, he refused to let you go.
words stuck in your throat, too nervous to speak at the chance of disturbing him from a much needed rest. awake or not, he was beyond beautiful in your eyes.
Warnings: flufffffffff, pregnancy, mention of blood (she gets a cut), avocado slander
A/N: you guys have no idea how much i cried writing this. As someone who didn't have a great childhood, just the idea of having a daughter is so comforting and terrifying at the same time for reasons Im sure most of you will figure out because #womanhood but i think husband euijoo lowkey got me through writing this on my period. As always, enjoy, my munchkins!
Word Count: 4.4k (cotton candy softness)
Pregnancy was a bitch.
You’d know; you were currently five months in and you couldn't wait for the next four months to get over.
Oh and then there would come the birth, postpartum depression, the probability of not loving your baby afterwards and being judged by society because you’re a woman and we’re all destined to die under the thumb of patriarchy one way or another—
And you’re crying again.
Fifth time today.
Great for you.
The tears came hot and humiliating, sliding down your cheeks while you sat curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket wrapped around your swollen body. Your back hurt, your ankles hurt, your breasts hurt. Even breathing too deeply felt uncomfortable now, like your own ribs were protesting the life growing beneath them. You pressed a trembling hand against your stomach and laughed weakly through your tears.
You remembered when the test had first turned positive. Euijoo had stared at it for a full ten seconds in complete silence, eyes wide and disbelieving before looking at you as though the world had just handed him something sacred. Then he’d laughed—a startled, breathless sound—and pulled you into his arms so quickly you nearly dropped the test into the sink.
“We’re having a baby?” he’d whispered against your hair like he still couldn’t believe it.
Back then, happiness had been easy, bright and weightless.
Euijoo had kissed your stomach every night despite there being nothing there yet. He’d spent hours researching cribs and vitamins and the safest baby monitors as if preparing for an exam he absolutely could not fail. You still remembered how he’d looked sitting cross-legged on the floor of your shared apartment, reading parenting forums with a furrow between his brows so deep you’d laughed at him until he pouted and claimed he was being a responsible father.
And God, you loved him.
You loved him in the way he always reached for your hand during crowded walks, in the way he memorized your coffee order after hearing it once on your second date, in the way he looked at you like you were something soft enough to protect and strong enough to admire all at once.
Euijoo loved through warm meals waiting for you after exhausting days, through fingers combing gently through your hair when migraines left you unable to speak, through sleepy midnight conversations and forehead kisses and the habit he had of pulling you closer in his sleep like his body knew yours by instinct.
And he still loved you now.
Even when pregnancy had hollowed you out and replaced your patience with exhaustion and your confidence with fear.
Euijoo rubbed lotion onto your stretch marks with reverent care, woke up at three in the morning to hold your hair back when you got sick, whispered ‘you’re beautiful’ so sincerely that sometimes it made you cry harder because you couldn’t understand how he still saw beauty in someone who felt so miserable all the time.
You were happy. You were.
But happiness and pain could exist together, and nobody warned you about that part. Nobody told you that growing a child could feel miraculous and unbearable at the same time. That you could want this baby with your entire heart and still feel moments where you wanted to give up simply because everything hurt too much.
You wiped your eyes with a sleeve already stiff from salt, and the motion made you think of his sleeves. Euijoo’s, how they’d always been soft.
You hadn’t met him in some grand, cinematic way. It was at a friend’s cramped apartment, a board game night. He was quiet, but his laughter was a sudden, clear sound that cut through the noise, and you found yourself trying to make it happen again.
He had a way of listening that made you feel like your thoughts were being gathered like mushrooms from a forest. His hands were gentle—he sketched in margins, on napkins, on the back of your hand once, a tiny, perfect star.
When Euijoo loved you, it was with a quiet certainty that felt like shelter. He remembered the songs you hummed absentmindedly and learned them. He cooked meals that were colorful because he said your joy deserved a palette. Your love was the steady warmth of a hearth in a room you both built, brick by brick. You’d talk for hours about everything and nothing—the ethics of fictional worlds, the shape of clouds that looked like old memories, the best way to eat an avocado.
The catalyst for your tears today was an avocado.
A stupid, simple, perfectly ripe avocado you’d been craving for two days. You’d finally mustered the energy to go to the market, stood in line feeling like a swollen monument to inconvenience, just for this one thing.
You got it home. You sliced it in half with ceremonial care and the pit—the damn pit—wouldn’t budge. You tried the knife trick, you tried a spoon, you tried gripping it with a towel, your hands slippery. Nothing.
You stood there in the silent kitchen, wrestling with this stubborn seed, and a wave of pure, childish frustration crested over you. It wasn’t just about the avocado anymore. It was about the jar you couldn’t open yesterday, the socks you couldn’t bend to pick up this morning, your own body becoming a series of locked doors you no longer had the keys to.
You gave it one last, furious wrench and the knife slipped. It didn’t cut you deeply, but it nicked the side of your thumb, a bright bead of red welling up against the green flesh of the fruit. And that was it.
The dam broke.
You weren’t crying over the avocado, or the cut. You were crying because you felt broken, defeated by a vegetable. The tears were hot and silent as you sank down in defeat onto the small kitchen island seat, cradling your hand, the uncut avocado halves staring up at you like mocking, green eyes.
A memory came into your mind—his hand, steady and warm under yours. A night on the sofa, early in your relationship, bathed in lamplight. You were talking about dreams and stars and whatnot.
"Draw me one.” You’d said, pointing to your skin. He’d produced a pen from behind his ear—he always had one—and drew a tiny star on the back of your hand. His touch was feather-light, his concentration absolute.
"There.” He’d said, sealing it with a soft kiss to the ink. "A piece of a constellation, just for you. So you're never lost." You felt chosen, adorned, seen in the most delicate way.
You looked at the same hand now, the star long washed away. In its place was a small, stinging, your wedding band feeling tight and foreign. You weren't a canvas for dreams anymore, you were a clumsy, sore vessel. The contrast was so violently absurd it made a sob catch in your throat.
Stupid stupid stupid.
___________
The front door clicked shut with a quiet thud.
Euijoo stepped inside carefully, shrugging off his coat with one hand, exhaustion still clinging to the slope of his shoulders from work. The apartment was warm and washed gold by the evening light filtering through the curtains. Usually, you’d call out to him by now. Usually there’d be the soft sound of your slippers against the floor or your sleepy voice asking what he wanted for dinner.
Instead, he heard a tiny, muffled sniffle from the kitchen and his heart dropped instantly.
Not out of irritation or alarm, just that immediate, aching tenderness that always seized him whenever you cried now. Pregnancy had made your emotions delicate in the same way frost made flower petals delicate—one small thing and suddenly everything trembled apart. Euijoo set his bag down and followed the sound.
And there you were. Perched miserably on the kitchen stool in one of his oversized shirts, face damp with tears, one hand cradling the other while a mutilated avocado sat abandoned on the cutting board beside you like evidence of a crime scene. For a moment, he simply stood there unnoticed.
And God.
You were so beautiful.
Soft and angelic, the incarnation of heaven, and carrying something precious inside you at tremendous cost to yourself.
The curve of your stomach beneath the fabric made something deep in his chest ache with overwhelming affection. His child, your child, a tiny life the two of you had somehow created together, nestled safely beneath your ribs while you sat there crying over an avocado with the saddest expression he had ever seen in his life.
He loved you so much it frightened him sometimes.
Loved the sleepy puffiness beneath your eyes in the mornings, loved the stretch marks beginning to bloom faintly across your hips, loved the way you absentmindedly held your stomach now when you were upset, protective even through your frustration.
Euijoo looked at you and saw devotion made flesh, saw every sacrifice your body was making to bring your baby into the world, saw strength in the exhaustion and beauty in the tenderness of you.
His throat tightened painfully.
You sniffled again, wiping at your face angrily with the heel of your palm, and he noticed the tiny cut on your thumb immediately. That did him in completely.
His expression softened into something unbearably gentle as he crossed the kitchen quietly, as though approaching a frightened animal he didn’t want to startle.
“Baby…” he murmured.
You startled slightly, eyes lifting to him, embarrassed tears immediately gathering harder the second you saw him.
“I hate everything,” you whispered miserably.
Euijoo almost smiled because you sounded so genuinely devastated that it wrapped around his heart and squeezed.
He stepped between your knees without hesitation, hands instinctively settling on your hips before one moved carefully to your injured hand. His fingers were warm, careful as he examined the tiny cut like it was something serious.
“Oh, my love.” The endearment alone nearly made you cry again.
His thumb brushed softly beneath your eye, catching a tear before it could fall. He leaned down until his forehead rested against yours, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you with that same tenderness he’d had the night he drew stars onto your skin.
“I leave you alone for a few hours and you go to war with an avocado?” he murmured softly. A watery laugh escaped and victory flickered briefly across his face at the sound.
Euijoo kissed the corner of your mouth gently before pulling back just enough to look at you again, gaze moving slowly across your face like he was memorizing it.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
Your lips trembled. “Euijoo—”
“No, really.” His voice was soft but certain. “You sit here thinking you’re falling apart, and all I can think is how lucky I am.”
Another tear slipped free. He caught it with his thumb immediately.
“You’re carrying our baby,” he whispered, eyes shining now too. “You’re exhausted and hurting and still trying every day anyway. And you’re worried because an avocado made you cry?” He kissed the crown of your head softly, “I’d peel a thousand avocados for you if it meant you never had to cry over one again.”
Your breath hitched softly as your tall husband bent down to kiss you, a quiet anchor in the storm of your emotions, like he was trying to pour every ounce of love he had through touch alone.
One of his hands remained at your hip while the other drifted instinctively over the gentle curve of your stomach beneath the oversized shirt, his palm warm through the fabric.
Euijoo’s palm spread there possessively, reverently, thumb stroking slow circles over the taut skin. The pressure was gentle, but somehow it loosened something knotted painfully deep inside you. You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been all day until his touch began smoothing it away piece by piece.
Under the steady, loving pressure of his touch, the pain softened from a scream to a sigh. Your shoulders softened first, then your jaw and then the ache sitting heavy behind your ribs seemed to melt beneath the steady warmth of his hand. You let out a breath you didn't realize you’d been holding, your forehead falling against his shoulder.
“See?” he murmured against your lips, “Even our little one knows to settle down for dad.”
His hand continued rubbing soothing circles over your bump, almost absentmindedly now, like comforting the both of you at once. Every so often his thumb would pause when the baby shifted faintly beneath his palm, wonder flickering across his face each time no matter how many times it happened.
You watched him quietly. The absolute gentleness in him never failed to undo you. One of the many reasons you’d decided to make him your husband.
“How do you always know what to do?” you asked hoarsely.
Euijoo smiled faintly, brushing his nose against yours. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
“No,” he murmured honestly. “I’m just obsessed with making you feel better.” A weak laugh escaped you again, and he looked absurdly pleased with himself for managing it.
Euijoo held the kiss until your breathing evened out and your hands unclenched from the fabric of his shirt. “Stay." He whispered, as if you had any intention of moving.
Your husband moved around the kitchen gathering the first aid kit from the drawer. He guided you carefully to stay seated with a hand on your thigh before crouching slightly in front of you.
He took your injured hand, cradling it in his own, and set about cleaning the tiny nick with an antiseptic wipe. His focus was absolute, his brow slightly furrowed in that way you loved.
Even now—even pregnant, swollen, exhausted—he looked at you like you hung the moon. It made your chest ache. You stared at him quietly while he worked.
His soft sweater sleeves were pushed up to his forearms. His hair had fallen messily over his forehead from the humidity outside. There was still tiredness lingering beneath his eyes from work, but he’d come home and immediately poured every remaining ounce of energy into you without hesitation.
And the hormones were telling you that you didn't deserve a bit of this and that he deserved to rest properly and you were taking that away from him.
“Ju…” You said softly, “I’m not ridiculous for this, am I?”
“No baby.” He finished applying a small, cartoon-character bandage. He smoothed the edges with his thumb, his touch lingering. “You could never be ridiculous to me. Overwhelmed? Yes. Fierce? Always. My beautiful, brave, avocado-conquering wife?” He brought your bandaged hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “Absolutely.”
Your lip trembled at that. Beautiful, brave—the words felt too large for someone who had dissolved into tears over produce fifteen minutes ago.
Euijoo seemed to notice the doubt flicker across your face immediately because his expression softened even further, impossibly gentle.
“Hey,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb across your knee. “What’s happening in that pretty little head?”
You looked away first, which alone told him enough.
The kitchen fell quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant rain beginning to patter lightly against the windows. Euijoo stayed crouched in front of you patiently, one hand still resting on your thigh. He never rushed you when you got like this, never demanded words before you were ready to give them.
“I just…” You swallowed thickly. “You work all day and then you come home and have to deal with me crying over avocados and stupid things and—”
“None of this is stupid.”
“But it feels stupid.” Your voice cracked softly. “And I feel…..difficult.”
His face changed instantly at that, something akin to hurt flashing across his beautiful eyes. Like the thought of you seeing yourself that way genuinely pained him. His hands felt warm against your skin. Like home.
“Look at me,” he said quietly. You did and the look on his face made you want to cry all over again. Your husband, oh your darling husband.
“I need you to understand something, my love.” His voice stayed soft, but there was certainty beneath it now. “Taking care of you is never something being taken away from me.” Your eyes stung immediately.
“I come home tired,” he admitted gently, brushing hair back from your damp face, “and then I see you, and suddenly I don’t care anymore because you’re my home too.”
A shaky breath left you. Euijoo leaned down, resting his forehead against yours again.
“You think I’d rather be resting somewhere else?” he whispered. “Than here with my wife and my baby?”
One of his hands slipped instinctively back to your stomach, spreading protectively over the curve of it. His thumb rubbed slow circles there again, soothing both of you at once.
“I love you.” He said simply. “Even when you cry. Even when that pretty mind is trying to convince you that it’s hard to love you.” His nose brushed yours lightly. “Especially then.”
The tears finally spilled over properly after that, silent and warm.
Euijoo sighed fondly the second he saw them. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered miserably.
“For what?”
“For being emotional all the time.”
He looked genuinely confused. “You’re growing a human being with your organs.” A tiny laugh escaped and he smiled warmly, that smile you’d fallen so deep in love with, “There she is,” he said immediately, eyes lighting up like he’d won something precious, “My sweet girl.”
He kissed you again—soft, lingering, full of affection that felt almost too big for your chest to hold. When he pulled away, he rested both hands around your face carefully.
“You know what I saw when I walked in here?” he murmured.
“A disaster?”
“My favorite person in the world.” Your face crumpled a little at that. Euijoo smiled softly, brushing away another tear with his thumb. “And maybe a slightly threatening avocado.”
You laughed harder this time, wet and breathless, and he grinned so brightly it made him look younger. Like making you smile was the most important thing he’d done all day.
You stayed there for a long time after that, neither of you in any hurry to move.
Euijoo stood between your knees while you leaned into him bonelessly, forehead resting against his chest, your arms loosely around his waist. One of his hands remained spread protectively over your stomach while the other moved slowly up and down your back in absentminded strokes.
The kitchen lights glowed soft and golden above you. Rain tapped quietly against the windows. Outside, the world continued moving at its usual pace, but inside your apartment time seemed to slow into something gentler. Safer. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear
Home.
Every few minutes Euijoo would press a kiss into your hairline or temple like he simply couldn’t help himself. Sometimes he’d glance down at your stomach with this dazed little expression that still looked new on him every single time.
At one point the baby shifted faintly beneath his hand.
“Oh.’ He said softly, “Hi there, sweetie.” He whispered with quiet wonder.
You smiled tiredly against his sweater. “She’s been kicking me all day.”
“Already causing trouble like her mother.”
“How dare you?” You gasped weakly. Another laugh escaped you, softer this time, and Euijoo looked ridiculously pleased by it again.
Eventually he tilted his head slightly to catch your eyes. “You wanna go lie down, baby?” he asked quietly. “You look exhausted.”
“I am,” you admitted.
“Mm.” His thumb stroked over your hip. “Bed?” You hesitated.
Euijoo noticed immediately. “What?”
“I don’t know.” You shifted your weight slightly with a small grimace. “I feel like if I lie down right now I’m gonna feel worse.” He listened carefully, nodding once like this was the most important medical briefing he’d ever received.
“The baby wants to move?” he asked solemnly.
“Your daughter,” you confirmed gravely, “wants to move.”
Euijoo hummed thoughtfully. Then a tiny smile tugged at his mouth. “Okay.”
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Okay what?”
“Let’s dance.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Let’s dance.” He repeated like it was obvious. “Doctor’s orders.”
“There is absolutely no doctor that would prescribe dancing in the kitchen.”
“My medical license says otherwise.”
“You don’t have a medical license, Ju.” You laughed heartily. Your husband could be so ridiculous sometimes. You imagined what he’d be like with your daughter—inventing silly games, prescribing dance breaks for scraped knees—and your heart swelled until it ached.
Euijoo ignored your protest entirely and reached for his phone. A moment later, soft music crackled quietly through—something slow and warm, woven with strings and a gentle piano melody.
The song to which you’d had your first dance at your wedding, when the world was just the two of you and a circle of golden light.
Your husband—ever the romantic. You stared at him as he set the phone down and held his hand out toward you dramatically.
“Come on sweetheart.” His eyes softened instantly afterward, voice gentler. “Just a little.”
You looked down at yourself, oversized shirt, puffy eyes, swollen ankles. Euijoo looked at you like you were something sacred anyway, a statue carved from moonlight.
“I look awful,” you mumbled automatically.
His expression turned scandalized. “You look like the love of my life.” Your face heated immediately. “Now,” he said firmly, wiggling his fingers at you, “dance with me before our child grows up thinking her mother hates fun.”
A reluctant smile tugged at your mouth as you slipped your hand into his. His fingers closed around yours and his other hand found the small of your back.
The kitchen seemed smaller somehow once you were in his arms, softer and warmer. The rain beyond the windows blurred the city lights into watercolor streaks while your song drifted through the apartment in quiet crackles of piano and strings, the melody wrapping around you both like memory.
Euijoo slid one hand to your waist while the other settled instinctively over your stomach again, protective and tender. You rested your hands against his shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath the soft fabric of his sweater.
And you danced.
Not the polished sway of your wedding day, but something slower and truer, a careful navigation of the new geography of your body. Your steps were small shuffles, a quiet counterpoint to the music, bare feet against cool kitchen tile.
His forehead brushed yours as he hummed softly under his breath, slightly off-key in the way he always was when he got too comfortable. It made you smile instantly.
“You’re ruining our wedding song,” you murmured.
“I’m enhancing it.”
“You sound like a dying cello, baby.”
Euijoo gasped softly in mock offense before spinning you barely half a step, careful of your balance. A startled laugh escaped you, bright and alive enough that his entire face lit up at the sound.
God.
He loved that sound. You could tell, for he looked at your laughter like people looked at sunrises and other such precious things.
The song carried on around you gently, filling all the quiet corners of the apartment with something achingly intimate. Your bodies moved together without thought, without effort, like years of loving each other had taught you a language beyond words.
Then, a flutter, a distinct, rolling thump against the place where his hand rested on your side. You gasped softly against his shoulder.
“Oh,” you breathed.
Euijoo’s eyes widened immediately beneath yours. “Did she kick again?”
Right on cue, another tiny flutter rolled beneath his palm. Both of you froze. And then you laughed at the exact same time. The sound spilled through the kitchen, warm and helpless and full of wonder.
“Our baby likes this song,” you whispered.
“Well obviously,” Euijoo said seriously. “Excellent taste. Genetically inherited from me.”
You snorted softly, leaning closer into him until your face tucked against his neck. Another kick answered almost immediately, stronger this time.
Euijoo let out the most awed little laugh you’d ever heard from another human being. One hand stayed on your stomach as though he couldn’t bear to lose contact now that your daughter was answering him from inside you.
“Hey there,” he murmured softly to your belly. “You dancing with us too?”
Your chest tightened so painfully with love you thought it might split open.
The three of you.
In a tiny kitchen washed gold by evening light. An avocado still abandoned on the counter. Rain whispering against the windows. Your husband humming your wedding song while your unborn daughter kicked happily beneath his hand.
And suddenly the day didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
The exhaustion was still there, the aching body, the hormones, the fear. But they no longer felt sharp enough to drown you.
Euijoo pulled back just enough to look at you again. His eyes were soft in that dangerous way they got sometimes—so full of love it almost hurt to be seen by him.
“You know,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your stomach slowly, “I think this might be my favorite version of us.”
Your throat tightened instantly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smiled, small and unbearably sincere. “You in my arms. Our baby dancing between us.”
The song swelled softly around you both.
You closed your eyes for a moment and let yourself sink fully into it—the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, the tiny life fluttering gently inside you like a second heartbeat answering the first.
Love existed in grand declarations, yes.
But sometimes it existed here too. In kitchens, in laughter through tears, in cartoon bandages and slow dancing and a hand splayed reverently across the curve of new life. A perfect, temporary universe held in the palm of a single dance.
And as Euijoo held you beneath the golden light, humming your song into your hair while rain painted silver trails against the windows, you thought perhaps this was what happiness truly looked like, not untouched by pain, but glowing softly beside it anyway.
In this moment, paradise truly belonged to you.
With love like this, love that felt like home.
fin.
A/N: first pregnant reader fic and i wrote it for euijoo are we surprised my good people. but yes i did cry whilst writing it like hello brain why are you giving me all this fluff i'll die. Anyways i hope all my people on ovulation are eating this up. Please do give a listen to Love like This by Fujii Kaze!!!
divider by @anitalenia
@eu1joo @kwnnies @nichozzystuffs @blueuijoo @pglpblm @ikigaijo @antonh0lic @dearvampyr @riri4andy @tokunodoll @sunsoomi @makizdoll + Shoot me an ask or comment to be added!
I think nicho and maki are just the type of bf to be so over heels for their s/o, like just the way they interact with harua... I wanna be him so bad and have two gorgeous men all over me 😓😓🙏
DOWN BAD BFS! ft. nichomaki headcanons
𝜗ৎ i can definitely see the vision with bf maki head over heels for his gf! being chronically online makes him send you shit tons of videos on tiktok or ig reels about how lucky he is to have such beautiful girlfriend like you.
𝜗ৎ bf!maki will immediately do things you ask him to do without a second thought. it's like his body automatically moves when you ask him to do something.
𝜗ৎ he most definitely cannot take his hands off of you. we all know this man loves physical touch, but it gets a hundres times worst when it comes to you. When you get a little closer to him, expect he'll have his arm automatically around your waist. or when you two are walking, it's either maki will have his hand placed inside of your back pocket, or hold your hand— or maybe have you hold onto his biceps. because one of the main reasons why maki started working out is to become cool for you.
"baby, i'm hungry. can you get a snack for me?" you asked, glancing over him with your chin on top of his chest. Before you could give him your signature look to make him obey, he had already pat your head, stood up, and went towards the pantry to get you something.
when he comes back, he already has your favorite drink as well. Maki placed the drink on the coffee table, handed you the snack as you sat up. maki then leaned in as you pucker your lips— asking for a kiss which he gave wholeheartedly.
"love you, baby." maki mumbled softly, before he sat on the sofa. he then pulled you closer to him, placing both your legs across his lap.
you giggled sweetly, the sound he's obsessed to. "so random." you replied.
"what? i can't tell my girl how much i love her?" maki asked, a pout present on his lips. you then leaned in, kissing the pout away.
"i love you more, my big baby!"
𝜗ৎ bf!nicho does the same as well, except he grumbles, muttering how he's too tired or lazy to move, but does it anyway. nicho will act like he hates doing things for you, but deep down, he lives for it. nicho always makes himself available for you.
𝜗ৎ he isn't as active as maki on the internet, but he does occassionally sends you couple reels, like two cats sitting by the porch, or probably a black cat and your favorite animal getting along, with a caption of 'us'.
𝜗ৎ and when you're just doing something simple like probably chewing your food, or drinking water, or maybe just laying on the bed, expect him to look at you with lovestruck in his eyes.
You were laying on the couch of the living room of your shared apartment. Your hair was still a mess, there was probably still dry drool on the corner of your lips since you were too sleepy still to even take a shower. nicho sat beside you, his attention elsewhere.
of course his attention was on you, his eyes softened as he watched you scroll on your phone. you looked so beautiful like this, bare, without a care about your appearance, with him. it felt nice to know you're comfortable enough to show him this side of yours.
You noticed the stares he's been giving you the past minute, when you glanced at him, you saw how at ease he looks. nicho's eyes were soft, filled with raw love, the corner of his lips formed into a tiny smile, staring at you.
"What?" You asked, giggling a bit before you moved closer to him.
warnings: comfort!! period, mentions of cramps and being in pain
a/n: this one's completely self indulgent bcs i am HURTING as i'm typing this. i hate periods with a passion guys.
yuma realized something wasn't right the second he woke up — sleepy eyes half open, eyelids fighting a tough war as he struggled not to close them again. and yet despite sleep calling out for him to come back, there was something that stopped him from doing so. an absence which filled him with great unease.
your side of the bed was empty and cold, only a dent in the mattress from where you previously laid remaining. normally it wouldn't surprise him that much — often times you were the one to wake up earlier than him, ready for the day before he even managed to open his eyes, before he moved an inch from underneath the covers. and yet, even to that rule there were exceptions, mostly happening when the two of you had a day off to yourselves or a weekend to enjoy.
today was one of those days — and yet yuma didn't feel the warmth of your body against his upon waking up, the comforting touch of your hands. and he knew that it could only mean one thing.
you were on your period.
the thought crossed yuma's mind immediately: the lower mood you've been in these past few days, your complaints about not feeling well. at first he assumed you were coming down with some sort of sickness, only to realize that it's been a few weeks since you've last complained to him about your monthly bleeding.
he left the bed, movements slow as he rubbed his eyes with both of his hands, footsteps leading him towards where he assumed you were — the bathroom. his sweatpants hung low on his waist, the waistband of his boxers peeking from underneath as he knocked on the door ever so gently, waiting for a response. he knocked again after a few seconds; a little louder this time, hearing you mumble something from the inside. he took it as a sign to go inside.
yuma opened the door slowly, the door making a small creek sound as he did so. he peeked his head first — curious eyes catching a glimpse of you inside the bathroom, his face immediately falling.
you were laying on the floor, curled up into a ball as your face contorted in an expression full of pain. your cheeks were stained with tears as you sobbed quietly, hands crossed around your stomach.
'oh, sweetheart.' yuma mumbled quietly, kneeling down next to you. his hands immediately found their way to your shoulders — massaging them gently with a comforting touch. 'is it the cramps again?'
you could only nod in response, not moving from your current position.
'did you take painkillers?' yuma asked. you nodded again. 'they didn't start working yet, did they?'
another nod.
yuma hummed quietly, thinking to himself for a minute.
'do you want to get back to bed?' he asked, voice quiet and soothing. 'i could carry you.'
this time, you shook your head in response — yuma's brows furrowing in slight confusion.
'the tiles are cold.' you mumbled quietly, voice barely audible as you remained in your curled up state, a small sob escaping your lips. 'it feels nice.'
yuma smiled at your words — eyes filled with adoration and worry, hands drawing gentle patterns along the exposed parts of your back, ones your tank top didn't cover. he wasn't going to leave you there waiting for the painkillers to start working; opting instead to lay down next to u, body encaging yours in a big, comforting hug, the warm sensation of his skin against yours providing a nice contrast to the cold bathroom tiles. although you didn't move or change your position, your body eased into his touch almost on instinct — muscles loosening and almost melting in his hold.
'the medicine will work soon, i promise.' he whispered, leaning in to plant a soft kiss to your cheek. 'i'll lay here with you till it passes, okay?'
he noticed the way your lips curved up just slightly, a weak smile appearing on your lips at his words.
'thank you.' you murmured, hand finding his in slow movements. 'i love you.'
'i love you too, sweetheart.' he said, planting another kiss to your temple. 'let's spend today in bed, hm? just us, cuddles, a movie and snacks. i have your favorite ones stored away for occasions like these.'
you squeezed his hand gently, nodding in response.
'can we order food, too?' you asked.
'of course.' yuma chuckled, head nuzzling in the crook of your neck. 'you can choose what we eat, too. as long as it doesn't hurt your stomach.'
he planted yet another kiss, this time to your neck, then another one to your shoulder. and with the soothing touch and comforting presence of yuma absorbing you from all around, you seemed to almost forget about the pain still building up in your lower stomach — letting yourself enjoy the moment as you focused on your boyfriend and just how lucky you were to have him.
'you're the best.' you mumbled quietly, closing your eyes as your back rested against his chest. yuma smiled.
texting your ex "goodnight" prank ✶ ex!yudai
∿ notes! 26 freaking attachments 💀💀 ⸝⸝ based off of this tiktok and it's comments ⸝⸝ featuring fuma nicholas euijoo jaehyun from bnd and anton from riize
▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?
︴bonus! honestly this shouldn't have been as long as it is but it's whatever. also i forgot to change the contact names like i usually do for texts until the very end...whoops
-- your boyfriend, nico, is the most caring man ever
nicholas x fem!reader | wc: 777 | fluff, fluff anddd fluff | masterlist
warnings: mentions of headaches, maybe language, readers in college, and some kisses
****
nicholas came home to find you hunched over your study desk with the palms of your hands pressing into your eyes. the lights in the apartment were either all off or dimmed, and the only strong light was the one on your desk to help you see your notes.
you'd been complaining for weeks about how this finals test was eating you inside out. and he hated that he couldn't really do anything about it.
he tries his best to empathize with you, but there really was only so much he could do.
quietly, he makes his presence known, he puts his bag on the ground and his sock clad feet make a distant scratching noise against the apartments wooden floors.
"y/n? baby?" he whispers when he gets right behind you.
you removed your hands from your face, blinking a bit to get rid of the blurriness your previous actions caused. "hey, nico." you said, your voice soft but sounding a bit dry. you probably haven't spoken in a while.
his hands moved from his sides to your shoulders, softly kneading the skin. a sigh escaping your lips as you suddenly reached over for a tissue from the box you kept on your desk.
turning your head, you looked up at him. your eyes shining with tears that are yet to fall. and he hears a quiet sniffle from you and he leans down to give you a peck on your cheek.
"talk to me, baby, what's wrong?" a hand of his held your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. his own way to give you the comfort you needed without being too overbearing.
you shook your head, clearing out your throat. "where do I even start?" you replied with a weak laugh. "my whole month has just felt terrible. I've been constantly canceling plans with everyone just to study and do my work, and now that its finals week it just sucks even more." you take a deep breath. "And I just have these, like, nagging headaches that won't go away. I've tried drinking more water, taking pain killers, but it just doesn't stop. I mean, my head just feels so tight and its like someone just beat the shit out of all my senses. Everything is either too loud or too bright."
his brows furrowed on his own face, his heart itself tightening at your confession.
"and I've been stuck studying the same fucking lesson because it just wont stick in my head." you finally sob, the last words coming out broken and frayed.
he didn't say anything, he just held you against him as you let everything out.
he felt your hands curl against the hoodie he was wearing, his own hands rubbing against your back softly.
he knows what it's like to be overworked and stressed out to the point of extreme exhaustion. but for now he wont say anything. he knows all you need right now is silence and his physical comfort.
it was probably around the fifteen minute mark when he pulled away slightly. he grabbed your hand and ushered your body up.
"come on," he gave you a small smile, "how about you take a bath, hm? something to relax you and your body. stay in there as long as you'd like. and when you come out, I'll have tea and your bed ready for you."
you shook your head, "no, babe, I can't do that. what about you? you're probably tired after today." you said with a frown.
"don't worry about me." he reassured. "I'm fine, sweetheart."
you soaked in your bath for a while, time slipping by as you closed your eyes in there. the low lights, soft scents and sound of the water moving was enough to lull you to slumber.
and when you came out, an old loose pajama set you had was on you.
it was true, he had your bed ready, your favorite tea sitting on your nightstand as steam floated from it and the sound machine he usually used plugged in the room opposite of your bed. you figured it was so it worked as a low hum in the background instead of a loud white noise right by your ears.
the two of you crawled into bed, holding onto each other as he toyed with the ends of your hair.
"tell me. anytime you feel like this, or just anytime you need to unwind." he needed you to be able to reach out to him, because he didn't want you facing what you went through alone. maybe you'd done that in the past but not anymore. not with him.
"I love you, nico. so much." your words came out muffled as your face was against his chest. "love you, too, dreamer."
