#and now I’m on the floor trying to get past an anxiety attack

[futureman]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[randomshitwhore]

Negative Ghost(rider)

word count:1.5k

pairing: ghost x reader

summary: Ghost, Soap, and yourself are on a mission, your first one with them. Your anxiety is at an all-time high, so you start cracking jokes to calm your nerves, one of which, Ghost appreciates...

AN: italics are past, normal is present. enjoy babes :)

You never imagined you’d be in this situation. The thought never crossed your mind. You figured by the time you were 22, you would be out of college, working your dream job, and starting a family.

That reality became a dream, a long-lost one.

You figured you would die in a broken and dirty apartment complex with three other girls, just waiting to be auctioned off. You figured you would starve to death and sometimes you even prayed to god just for the man holding you hostage to just put you out of your misery. You were hopeless, utterly hopeless. 

Until they came.

John “Soap” MacTavish and Simon “Ghost” Riley. Sent on a mission to save you from a hostage situation. You were the sole survivor out of the girls. 

Now at 24, you were working as a soldier, alongside them being sent out on your first mission.

“Eclipse, you ready?” Soap asked as you three walked toward the chopper, about to head into the night. Eclipse, your callsign. You’d earned that through the first thing that left your lips after those two saved you. 

“Are you alright? Are you injured?” the man with the mask asked you. You stared deep into his eyes, his deep dark brown eyes. You opened your mouth to answer his but no words came out. “Jesus, Simon I think you left her speechless” the other one laughed, startling you enough to shoot your head toward him. “You’re alright, you’re safe. I’m John, but my buddies call me Soap, and that’s Simon, we call him Ghost”

You turned your head back to the man with the mask, holding you close to him. “Are you injured?”Ghost repeated. You shook your head slowly no, still too scared to speak. “So, you got a name that goes with that pretty face?”Soap asked, meeting your eyes. “Eclipse” you whispered.

 “Eclipse? That’s your name?” He asked. You shook your head no and pointed behind him. ”It’s a solar eclipse…it looks so beautiful.” You said, with tears welling in your eyes. “Yes, it is…Been a while since you’ve been outside huh?”He asked quietly. “Yes..” You answered quietly. “What’s your name, love?”He repeated, hoping for an actual answer this time.

 “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

“Ask ready as I can be Soap” You yelled back as you got closer to the chopper. “What’s our objective?

“Get a flash drive containing information about the missiles Hassan is moving” Ghost yelled. “If we catch him, added bonus?”You asked, resulting in a blank stare from him. You raised your eyebrows with a small smile on your face, letting him release a little chuckle. “I suppose...Ready?”

You let your smile grow a little wider. “Affirmative”

“Goddamn, it’s fucking cold out here” “Eclipse, shut the fuck up” Ghost’s voice came in harshly through your earpiece. You were on the side of a building, having found the floor the flash drive was on and waiting for Soap and/or Ghost to bust a window to let you in. “Well hurry your asses up and I’ll comply.” You harshly returned back. “Ghost, cut the woman some slack, she is over 400ft in the air, and we’re not exactly moving at the fastest pace” Soap’s gruff voice came into the earpiece. “Exactly, goddamn Si, be nice,” You said. You let out a slow breath, trying to calm your nerves. “Why was the strawberry crying?” You asked. "Sorry?" “Eclipse, not now,” Soup and Ghost said. “Please, I’m freaking the fuck out, can you guys just do this for me so I don’t have a panic attack.”You breathed into your radio, shakingly. “Alright, why?”Soap asked. You sighed relieved. “Because she was in a jam”

“Not bad…Why don’t shrimp share?”Soap said. A smile peeked at the corner of your lips. “Why?”You asked. “Because they’re shellfish” He answered. You giggled into your radio. “Liked that one, did you?” Ghost asked, his tone obviously slightly annoyed. “Yes, I did. Your turn Riley” You answered. “What has two legs and bleeds?”Ghost asked. “I don’t like where this is going, but what?”You asked, tapping your foot against the window. “Half a dog” he answers coldly. “That’s horrible Lt..”Soap chuckled through the radio. “Please tell me you didn’t kill a dog just now” You whined through the radio. “Negative, but I just passed one, German Shepard in case you cared” He answered. You breathed out shakingly again, the snow nipping at your cheeks. You felt a vibration against the window causing you to raise your gun only to be met with Ghost’s face between your boots. “Fuck Ghost” You sighed into your radio. “You warm out there?”He teased as he began cutting through the glass. 

“Negative Ghost rider, I’m freezing my tits off out here” You replied only to be met with a deep laugh coming through the radio. “What? What’s funny?” Soap asked, reaching the floor a little after Simon finished cutting the window. “Ghostrider, that’s a new one” Ghost replied, helping you into the window. “Had that one in the back of my head for a while just never had a chance to use it” You said, moving far away from the window. “You boys do know it’s rude to make a lady wait almost forty-five minutes in the freezing cold, yes?”You teased, closing your eyes and blowing hot air to defrost your fingers. 

“Y/N.” 

You opened your eyes to see Ghost holding one of his jackets out to you. You hastily took it from him and slipped it on over your shoulder and up and over your arms while walking behind them. You looked tiny compared to the size of the jacket, it just slightly hung under your wrists. You could still smell the tobacco and whiskey coming off of it.

 While Soap was upfront ahead of you and Simon radioing to Shepard, you listened to Simon repeatedly whisper ghost rider. Over and over and over again. He must have said it at least a hundred times before you interrupted him. “You really liked me saying that, didn’t you?”

“Affirmative, I did” He replied. “Affirmative,” you said under your breath, slightly laughing to yourself. That’s one of the little things about Ghost that always made you laugh, no matter what; he refused to just say yes or no, always using a military way of answering. 

“Must you always use a formal way of saying yes or no Ghost?”You said leaning up against a wall. “Affirmative” He replied back, making you crack a smile and roll your eyes at him. Even though all you could see was his eyes; you could tell he had a shit-eating grin spread across his face. “It’s stupid” You chuckled. “You like it though, no?”He said, already knowing your answer. You bit your lip and turned your head to the door Soap had entered through. “You ever gonna take that thing off?” you questioned, changing the subject. “You’ve seen me without it on before, Y/N.” He said, letting his eyes lock onto yours. “Ya, when we first met two years ago,” You said, feeling your cheeks warm up. 

Your eyes shot open when you heard the creaking of your door open to find the masked man staring at you, watching him as he rested his gun against the wall. “Nurses say you’ve been having night terrors. How are they tonight?”

“B-Better” You answered sitting up straight in your bed, him crouching down to meet your eyes. “You’re scary with that thing on, you know?”You said, pulling your legs closer to your chest. You watched him close his eyes and hold them there for a few seconds. “That’s the point Y/N” He sighed. “I know its just…”You started but bit your tongue. “Just what?”

“I wanna see your face”

You watched as he closed his eyes again, probably contemplating if he should just leave you alone with your nightmares. He didn’t. You watched as his tattooed arm wrapped around the back of the mask and pulled it forward toward you, dropping it carefully into your hands. You felt your jaw slightly drop as you took in all his features…

Short dirty blond hair, those deep brown eyes; holding so many secrets that you’ll probably never know, plump lips, and his chin; covered with stubble and a few scars. 

“Better?”He asked. You cracked a smile, with him returning the favor. “Perfect…”

“All I remember from that night is your eyes not leaving my lips” He chuckled, tapping his boot against the floor. “Not every day you see a man with nice lips, took them in while I could,” You said, looking at the ground. “Lord knows the next time I would see your face”

“We find this file and I’ll let you take it off this time,” He said quickly, not wanting to repeat himself. You felt your eyebrows shoot up within a millisecond “Really? You’re not bullshitting me on this?” “Yes..”

“Ghost..I-” You started until you heard a long bang and a crash ring out from the door Soap had entered through.

“ECLIPSE! GHOST!”

You and Ghost ran straight into the room ahead of both of you, just to find Soap with his boot pressed against a man’s skull, and the barrel of his gun pressed against the man’s head.

Hassans Head. and the flash drive inches away from your boots.

You bent down to pick it up and turned to face Ghost.

“Bonus points?”You said, with a shit-eating grin.

“Bonus points.”He laughed.

#simon ghost riley #modern warfare x reader #modern warefare 2 #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #simon riley #john mactavish #mwii #mw2 #in orbit #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod ghosts #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #cod mwii #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley fanart #MW2 #negative ghost rider #explorepage

[steddielations]

Flight of Icarus lore dump part 2:

Part 1 | Character List

- Wayne has a green thumb. He reads Gardener’s Weekly magazine. It doesn’t say what he grows, but it says he buys vegetables from the store so I’m going to say that gruff old man Wayne has the prettiest petunias in the whole trailer park.

- Eddie sneaks into the Hawk with his best friend Ronnie to watch action movies and thinks Snake Plissken, Han Solo and Conan the Barbarian are cool.

- Eddie talks for hours about the intricacies of Elven politics in Tolkien.

- Eddie read comics as a kid and hid them all over the house "like a little squirrel" under the bed, behind the nightstand, under the rug. Wayne found his Uncanny X-Men in the freezer between stacks of tv dinners. Also, "Hellfire Club" comes from these X-Men comics.

- Floor time! There's a part where Eddie is literally just lying on his back on his bedroom floor counting down from a million. When Wayne comes home, Eddie army crawls on his belly to the doorway to see him.

- Eddie reads Gormenghast paperbacks, gothic fantasy novels. It mentions that Wayne saved them from the house fire along with Eddie’s guitar. It never says how/when Eddie originally got his guitar.

- Eddie says lots of cc’s original songs have D&D references. It's implied that he writes them. One is called “Fire Shroud” after a spell

- Eddie is called Freak King at school and Munson Junior or just Junior around town and he hates all of it

- Eddie talks about having anxiety a lot and it's implied he has had panic attacks in the past

- Eddie is the lead singer and guitarist of cc. He started the band with Ronnie specifically because it was required to participate in the school talent show.

- Neither Wayne or Al graduated high school. When Eddie (temporarily) drops out, Al celebrates.

- Eddie doesn't cook. He doesn't even own a spatula. The smell of cooking in their house actually shocks him and gives him a deep longing for family meals, which Al uses to manipulate him

- Eddie jokes about being into Saturday Night Fever and strikes the pose a couple times.

- Eddie knows how to hotwire and how to pick locks. Al taught him this at the age of ten. Eddie is "disgusted" with himself any time he does either of those things.

- Eddie "drives like a monster" when he's upset about something.

- Eddie smokes cigarettes occasionally. Weed is mentioned a lot in the book but it never says anything about Eddie smoking it or doing any drugs. He either doesn't smoke much or he hasn't tried anything yet in the book. Also, he’s just now meeting Rick. But It’s pretty clear after everything he went through why he would start

- There's lots of mentions of PBR and Bud Light. Though Eddie says he doesn't like to drink after his shifts at the Hideout (where he's a barback). He mostly drinks off-brand Big Buy soda in the book (he calls it "pop")

- Eddie's parents were married on March 12th, 1966. The date is inscribed on the bottle of their wedding wine. Eddie asks what kind it is and Al says they only had 'red or white' kind of money

- Al breaks out the wedding wine (to manipulate Eddie, you guessed it) it's red wine and Eddie really, really likes it

- Eddie went to War Zone with his dad for supplies for the truck heist (spike strips, coveralls, etc)

- Eddie's band played Exciter by Judas Priest at the talent show. The song was only approved because they emphasized the "priest"

- There was another (?) talent show in Winter of 1981 where Eddie's band played "Prowler" and they were kicked off stage halfway through because the song was considered Satanic, and the PTA visited all their parents for trying to convert everyone to Satanism.

- Eddie imagines hitting his dad twice. Once with a glass bottle and once with a metal wrench. (He should've- oops who said that)

- The only hug Eddie gets in the book is when his dad first comes back, Eddie knows it's the first step in his cycle of showing up, using Eddie and leaving, but Eddie still accepts the hug and feels guilty for enjoying it.

- It's implied Eddie gets close to tears a couple times in the book, but the only time they actually spring up is when his mom's favorite song (from Muddy Waters) comes on in the truck radio while Eddie is doing the heist with his dad and feeling awful about it. Eddie has several flashbacks of dancing with her to this song, it seems like his happiest memory that he always returns to.

- Whenever Eddie is doing what his dad wants (hotwiring, charming a person into their plans) he puts on what he calls his "best Al Munson smile" and he's terrified that it will eventually take over his whole face. There's a part at the end where Eddie is sitting in a jail cell and says "All I want to do is tear my face off. If a new one grows in it's place, maybe it'll make me a different person. Someone who isn't such a complete fuckup."

#eddie munson the nerd that you are #steddie writers eddie recites tolkien purposely to be annoying so write that down #these always get progressively sadder oh boy #eddie munson #flight of icarus #wayne munson #al munson #ronnie ecker #stranger things #i'm gonna do one more of all the places name dropped and then a deep dive into eddie's d word issues #mp

[tenelkadjowrites]

Wallflower - Part Three - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE.

🌻 Summary: While your feelings towards nerdy Seonghwa continue to deepen, your relationship with your coworkers and job further deteriorate. 

🌻 Word count: 10.7k

🌻 Genre & warnings: nerdy seonghwa with coworker reader. fem pronouns for reader. descriptions of anxiety and a panic attack. dirty talk. hand job. spanking (reader receiving). masturbation. semi public sexual activities. unprotected sex. creampie. 

🌻 Tags are now moved to the bottom of the fic.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               In your dream, you’re stuck behind a soundproof glass that has encircled your desk. Seonghwa is on the other side, sitting at his cubicle, typing away. You keep trying to get his attention but it’s useless. You bang your hands against the glass, growing frustrated. It’s becoming difficult to breathe. Your computer turns on, showing white static like an old TV. The noise grows louder, making it hard to think. As you bang your hands against the glass again, there is a noise that sounds like someone has turned on a bathtub. Alarmed, you look over your shoulder. Water is pouring in from the top of the glass through a small hole. It sloshes around at your feet and the panic of being submerged is so intense that you throw your weight against the glass. Nothing happens. It’s up to your ankles now and rapidly rising. You scream but no sound comes out –

               And when you jolt awake, you find yourself staring at Seonghwa’s face. Panicked, you sit up, almost banging your head into his. He’s talking but you can’t make out what he is saying. Your heart is pounding so fast that it feels as though it’s going to explode out of your chest. Seonghwa’s hands are on your upper arms and you can finally make out what he is saying.

               “It’s a nightmare. Hey, it was just a nightmare. You’re awake, it’s okay, you’re awake.”

               He’s right. One wild glance shows that you’re in your bedroom, wearing just your skirt from earlier, Seonghwa still naked with the sheets around his waist. You take in a shuddery breath, trying to calm down.

               “What time is it?”

               Seonghwa glances at the clock on the bedside table. “A little past two.”

               “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t…” You shiver, suddenly cold.

               “Let me get you a shirt and some water,” Seonghwa says and before you can protest, he slides off the bed.

               The room is too dark to make anything out other than his silhouette as he grabs his boxers off the floor and glasses off the dresser. You watch him, trying to steady your accelerated breathing.

               “The top right drawer of the dresser,” You tell him, “Any shirt is fine.”

               He opens it, grabs one, hands it to you and then leaves to get some water from the kitchen. You slip into the shirt, tugging it down across your chest. Your heartbeat is still fast and it’s hard to pull yourself from the nightmare. It had simply felt so intense, from the loud static of the computer, the water cold against your feet and your desperation for Seonghwa to hear you.

               Seonghwa returns a minute later with a glass of water, handing it to you. After thanking him, you take a long sip as he gets back into bed next to you.

               “Do you want any?” You ask quietly when finished and he gives a small shake of his head. You place it on the bedside table. “I’m sorry that I woke you.”

               “It’s alright, really.”

He is close to you now, warm, comforting, safe, and even though you should be mindful of how he is just your friend even with having sex involved, you lean forward and embrace him.

               Seonghwa seems surprised for a millisecond before his arms wrap around you. Your head rests on his shoulder, hands resting against the smooth skin of his back.

               “I was in some glass box at work. It was soundproof and filling with water. You were at your cubicle. I couldn’t get your attention and I knew I was going to drown,” You recall the nightmare aloud, “It’s silly, I know. And not real.”

               “Your brain doesn’t know it isn’t real. It reacts accordingly,” He seems to be thinking for a moment because he then adds quietly, “But I heard you, didn’t I? That’s how I woke you up.”

               The words calm you, the logic wiggling in your brain and taking root there. Seonghwa had heard you. Not in the nightmare but in reality where he woke you up and pulled you out of there. You soften in his arms, closing your eyes.

               It feels good to have him here. Everything about Seonghwa radiated a calm, collected energy which was something you aren’t sure you possess anymore. Even though you have kept reminding yourself that he isn’t for you, that he is more of a friend than anything else, it didn’t seem as if your body listened. The way you responded to his touch, calmed down around him and felt safe all made a small voice in the back of your head say you were intentionally ignoring something quite obvious.

               “Do you want to lay back down?” His voice is gentle, and you are nudged away from your potentially brooding thoughts.

               You nod but can’t bring yourself to let go which results in your head back on his chest, curled against him after he removes his glasses. His fingers trail down your back, and you can feel your heartbeat begin to slow. With Seonghwa laying back down, your attention is drawn to his body. You fight the urge to reach out and touch him there, reminding yourself that he needs to go back to sleep.

               But as the nightmare fades from memory, it’s difficult not to want him again. Everything just feels so perfect with Seonghwa, including sex. The pleasure blots out the worries about work, your unhappiness, your lack of friends – all of it fades when he touches you.

               Trying to play it off casually, your hand moves lower against his stomach. His skin is warm to the touch. You are thinking about how big he is, how long it took to get him inside your cunt. Your fingers are on the top of his boxers now, hovering, torn between going to bed or asking if you could make him feel good.

               Seonghwa stirs a little and then whispers, “What are you thinking about?”

               You could lie. But that doesn’t feel like a true option. So, you go, “I was thinking about touching you. But then I was scolding myself that you want to get some sleep.”

               He pauses for a moment. You can hear the small inhale of his breath. The room is quiet, far removed from any noise of street traffic. Occasionally, it could feel isolating. Tonight, it just makes you grateful for Seonghwa’s steady presence.

               “You can touch me,” His voice is a rumble in your ear pressed against his chest.

               Your hand travels downward, touching him outside his boxers. You’ve had a collection of lovers over the years but this compelling emotion of wanting to make someone feel this good is new. Seonghwa has made you cum more in a short amount of time than anyone else did and has been putting your pleasure first constantly. You want to give that back to him with such intensity that you don’t even give yourself time to analyze why it’s such an overflowing emotion because you’re afraid of what the answer is going to be at the end.

               Seonghwa shivers, his hand briefly going still against your back as you continue to touch him. His cock is growing hard in his boxers. It is too dark to make out anything other than the outline of his bulge. It strains against the fabric as you continue to rub. His breathing has changed, deepening with each movement of your fingers.

               Your hand goes to the top of his boxers, tapping two fingers against Seonghwa’s stomach. He gets the message, raising his hips just enough for you to tug down his boxers, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. It lays thick and heavy against his stomach, and when you bring your hand around it, Seonghwa shudders. His length is warm and rock hard in your palm.

               “It’s kinda impressive I got this thing inside me,” You remark quietly.

               “Are you teasing me?” He replies, his voice as light as a feather.

               “Just a little,” You admit.

               After spitting into your hand, very slowly you stroke his cock. Your hand is small against his girth but you make the best of the situation. You like how Seonghwa’s breath is quickening as you continue to slowly move your hand up and down. There is precum glistening at the tip of his cock now and you bring your hand up to smear it across his length.

               “Can I ask you something? It’s a vanity question,” Seonghwa’s voice is uneven and after you nod, he continues, “Did I uh…well, the rumor. Did it end up being true…for you?”

               “Which part?” You are playing coy now, taking secret pleasure in hearing Seonghwa’s embarrassed tone.

               Your speed increases a little and Seonghwa lets out a tiny moan. The sound makes you wet, drives you to keep going because you want him to make more noise, to crumble completely underneath your touch.

               “The entire –” He groans softly as you keep going, stopping only to make sure to get collect his precum to use as a lubricant, “Entire rumor.”

               “I don’t remember it,” You continue to tease him, “Can you remind me?”

               His free hand is gripping the bed sheets as you keep going. You can hear the sound of his sticky cum against your hand, tilting your face upwards to look at his changing expressions and the pink hue across his cheeks.

               “The r-rumor that I can fuck well,” He says and he looks torn between being shy enough to melt into the bed and horny enough to buck his hips against your hand, “And that I – fuck,” He loses his train of thought as your speed increases, jerking him off hard and fast.

               You’re so wet that you’re practically dripping for him but your only focus is on Seonghwa. His head rolls back at one point as the pleasure heightens, his gasp ragged. He looks like a far cry from the well put together nerd at the office which somehow makes it hotter.

               Still, he tries to complete his earlier sentence. “And that I have a big dick,” He says it quickly as if he is afraid of losing himself to how good it feels.

               “Don’t forget the eating pussy,” You reply casually as if your hand isn’t a mess of his cum, listening to his growing noise of moans and groans, “But yes, I think the rumor was entirely true about you, Seonghwa.”

               “O-oh, good,” He manages to say and you know he is close to finishing by the fragile sound of his voice.

               “Now, are you going to blow your load all over my hand or do you wanna keep talking?”

               Seonghwa lets out a strangled groan, bucking his hips against your hand as he begins to cum, the words pushing him to climax. You watch his expressions change as he finishes, taking note of the way he bites down hard on his bottom lip, how tightly his eyes close, the flush of colour against his skin. Something flutters in your chest at the sight.

               His cum is hot against your skin, covering your hand and spilling out over his abdomen. Before you can even say another word, Seonghwa shifts onto his side, grabbing your leg and hoisting it over his hip while bringing his hand down to your cunt. His fingers find your clit immediately and the touch makes you gasp.

               “God, you’re fucking soaked,” His voice is hoarse as he rubs your clit, “You’re going to cum in seconds.”

               You try to reply but your body is shivering and Seonghwa kisses you. Your moans are muffled against his mouth as he furiously works your clit. His tongue is in your mouth; he takes over your senses. Your body responds to him in a way it never has to anyone else.

               He is right – your orgasm begins in seconds. You are cumming against his hand, weak against his touch. Waves of pleasure overtake you, spurned on by his gentle words to keep going. By the time your climax subsides, all thoughts of the nightmare are washed away and replaced with the warmth of Seonghwa.

               Enveloped in him, it doesn’t take long to fall back asleep.

*

               The Monday morning meeting is one of the dullest events of the week but lately, they have become an intolerable exercise in trying not to quit on the spot. They always ran too long on account of Sir Dipshit not knowing when to stop, ultimately talking about things that had no bearing on the matters at hand.

               You are chafing to get out of the stuffy meeting room.

               “This Friday, remember, we are allowing everyone to wear jeans! Very exciting,” Sir Dipshit clasps his hands together, “We might even do it next Friday too!”

               “Yippie,” You mumble, eyes scanning the crowd again to find Seonghwa. This is tricky because he is slightly behind you which means glancing at him never looks natural.

               He is tucked away in the corner, leaning against the wall because Sir Dipshit never brings the right amount of seats for everyone. His button up shirt is pastel blue, crisp without any wrinkles. His tan slacks with a simple black belt finish off his outfit. As usual, his light blonde hair is slightly messy and he looks attentively through his large glasses. You have no idea how he can look so alert. But you suppose he enjoys his job unlike yourself.

               You feel so many different emotions while looking at him that it makes it difficult to pinpoint just one. A month ago, Seonghwa was just the nerdy coworker and now he’s…well, not only someone you’ve slept with, someone you know now in a manner that no one else in the office does, but he’s your friend.

               But ‘friend’ doesn’t seem to fit how you see him. Which just makes things more confusing since there is nothing about Seonghwa that is your type romantically as you remind yourself a thousand times a day. He’s also given no indication that he sees you as anything other than a friend to casually have sex with. Except the way he holds you afterwards, a tiny and annoying voice says in the back of your head which you staunchly ignore.

               As if sensing your gaze on him, Seonghwa glances over in your direction. Your eyes lock for the briefest moment and Seonghwa mimics falling asleep. Your lips twist in a smile as you look away.

               “What’s so funny?” Your coworker whispers.

               “Nothing,” You lie immediately, still feeling as though whatever is going on with Seonghwa is something to be kept private.

               Your coworker stares at you for a beat longer before settling back in her chair, dropping the subject. You know that it is a matter of time before someone starts to notice your friendship with Seonghwa which will naturally bring rumors about dating since everyone is bored to tears in the office. You will never hear the end of it from your circle of coworkers that you have coffee with and the future headache looms in the distance. Seonghwa has often been the subject of many a conversation mocking him much to your ever growing guilt. The entire thing reminds you of high school in the worst way possible.

               Sir Dipshit finally frees you ten minutes later as everyone spills out of the meeting room to drag their heels back to their cubicles. You don’t want to go to your desk but you didn’t want to be in the meeting either. You just simply don’t want to be here.

               Instead, you wander over to the watercooler, taking your sweet time. You feel Seonghwa’s presence before you see him, looking over your shoulder.

               “Dallying too?” You ask.

               “Sorta,” He replies, grabbing his own small paper cup, “I saw you over here and wanted to say hi.”

               You can feel the butterflies in your stomach and steadfastly pay no attention to them. The early morning light is slanting through the windows of the office, making Seonghwa’s hair shine.

               “Was just trying to stay awake during that meeting,” You say, trying not to picture him naked underneath his office attire or think about how his tongue felt in your mouth, “He just talks so fucking much.”

               “Yeah, he is quite enchanted with the sound of his own voice,” Seonghwa replies but you catch the way his eyes flick down to your waist before leaning forward to fill up his cup.

               You swallow hard, looking at the curve of his neck. Your entire body is screaming for him and it is distracting. After he left Saturday morning, the two of you only casually texted the rest of the weekend. There had been nothing sexual about the conversation, leaving you back with the original feeling of floating between friendship and sex. Things always felt the most natural when you were wrapped up in him after sex. Otherwise, there seemed to be something awkward hovering in the air.

               Seonghwa straightens, fixing his glasses and then going, “How are you feeling today? With being here?”

               You exhale slowly, “Honestly, not that great. But I’ll get over it.”

               His eyes narrow a little. “You know, there are other places you could work. You don’t have to feel trapped here if you’re that unhappy.”

               “Yeah but…you know, I’ve been with this company for a while now and sorta climbed my way to this spot. And there’s still more to climb.”

               “Sure, I get that,” He takes a sip of water and you stare at his Adam’s apple, “But what’s the point of the climb if you don’t enjoy it?” He finishes with a shrug.

               You stare at him, the words sounding like a thunderclap in your head. You aren’t even sure what to say.

               Seonghwa crushes the small cup in his large hand, making your emotions a confusing mess of work angst and horniness. He tosses it into the bin.

               “I’ll talk to you later,” He says with a small wave.

               You nod, watching Seonghwa go, torn between pulling him into an empty office somewhere and fucking him or staring at the wall as a mental cacophony of doubt and fear about work bounces around your skull.

               In the end, you do what you’re paid to do – sit at your desk and pretend to be busy.

*

               Lunch hour, sitting at the same table, in the same chair at the coffee shop across the street. You are staring at your unfinished muffin with a trickle of disdain. Around you, the usual round of gossip has commenced. You can’t believe it is only one in the afternoon. The thought of going back into the office is oppressive but so is staying here and drinking your coffee.

               “Well, that’s cuz everyone in the software and IT departments are nerds of the worst kind,” Someone is saying while you stare at your coffee as if it can tell your fortune. “I mean, accounting is pretty bad too.”

               “Yeah but Sir Dipshit loves accounting. When he talks to any of the computer geeks in software, you can tell he doesn’t feel like the smartest guy in the room anymore so he hates it,” Another coworker says.

               Your mind is still stuck on what Seonghwa had said by the watercooler. But what’s the point of the climb if you don’t enjoy it? You think about how focused you’ve been on your career and nothing else, how so many things fell to the wayside over the years, your nice apartment that gives you no joy, and how you’ve never stopped to consider what sort of life you actually want. If anyone else had sounded like the Hannah Montana movie while trying to give you advice, you would have ignored them. But the words coming from Seonghwa are taking root in your chest.

               You only tune back into the conversation when your gossipy coworker says, “He likes Seonghwa because every time that guy talks, Sir Dipshit can quietly take a nap.”

               The chorus of titters is what pushes you over the edge. Looking up from your coffee, you snap, “Aren’t we bored? Every day we come over here and waste the entire hour shit talking people in the office because our lives are fucking boring.”

               “Jesus, what the hell is your problem?”

               Your gossipy coworker narrows her eyes, suspicion lining her features. “She’s got a crush on Seonghwa, that’s what it is.”

               You can feel your cheeks growing warm at the accusation. “I do not. I’m just bored of talking about the same people all the time in the worst way possible.”

               “You were fine with it until it involved Seonghwa. Once that rumor of his big dick popped up, you’re suddenly his staunch defender even though you’ve made fun of him plenty of times,” She goes on relentlessly and you flinch, knowing she isn’t exactly wrong, “So, why don’t you save the holier-than-thou attitude you’ve gotten lately.”

               You stand up. Your skin is hot and not in a fun way; it feels as if there are tiny bugs wiggling around underneath the surface. You’re weary of the gossip, you’re burnt out on the daily routine and yes, the guilt at sitting around as people make fun of Seonghwa is burning you up.

               “If you’re so curious about Seonghwa, why don’t you go hang out with him then?” Your gossipy coworker continues, clearly relishing the moment that has been building for ages.

               “At least it would be a nice change of pace compared to sitting around here talking about the same stuff,” You snap, grabbing your bag, “Masquerading as the mean girls in a shitty movie set in high school.”

               You storm off, hearing giggling behind you as your coworker says something you can’t make out. Your heart is racing and the palms of your hands feel itchy. The office building looms in front of you but staying near them is also too much.

               You know you’ve effectively burned a bridge with the only sort of ‘friend group’ you have at work. Some part of you doesn’t care while the other side cares very much. It had been so easy to fall in with them; maybe you’ve always hated working here and hanging out with them made it easier to hide from.

               But the guilt at everything you’ve ever said negatively about Seonghwa is slamming into your chest with the force of a sledgehammer. You enter the building, hurriedly pressing the button for your floor, wondering what would happen if you just left early. Would Sir Dipshit notice? Would anyone care?

               By the time you step off the elevator, you can feel the start of a full blown panic attack tugging on the edges of your brain. Your eyes sweep the office floor which is emptier than usual due to most people on their lunch hour. But you spot Seonghwa walking away from the fax machine, a slightly annoyed expression on his face (which most people had whenever they needed to use the fax machine).

               You walk towards him, each footfall heavy in your head. Seonghwa looks surprised at the sight of you walking towards him so aggressively. You aren’t even sure what you’re going to say until you get in front of him, open your mouth and –

               A choked sob comes out instead of any words. He looks immediately alarmed, reaching out for your arm before stopping himself, his hand hovering in the air.

               “I think I’m gonna have a panic attack,” You manage to mumble, wishing you were not about to embarrass yourself in front of the whole office.

               Seonghwa doesn’t miss a beat, going, “Follow me,” and heads back towards the elevator.

               You listen to him, unsure where he is going to take you. Your vision is blurring with tears and your chest is growing tighter by the second. The elevator doors close. You’re aware that you are making some strange breathing noises as your entire body feels more and more off kilter. Seonghwa doesn’t say anything. The doors open and he tells you again to follow him.

               It is a lot colder down here and so quiet that it is almost unsettling. You realize Seonghwa has brought you down to the server room where no one would have any reason to be here. He pushes open a door to a small office and you immediately sit down at the computer chair before exploding into tears.

               Seonghwa crouches in front of you, his hands tentatively resting on your knees while looking upwards. “What can I do?” He asks in a soft voice.

               His kindness doesn’t help, not now as you mentally beat yourself up. Your breathing is ragged as if your lungs are struggling to work properly. The tears are a wild thing now, like a creature being trapped, and when you speak, each word is punctuated with a horrible gasp.

               “I was having coffee with everyone and they – I don’t get along with them and I don’t like them or myself around them – so I said as much and – ” Your words are cut off as a fresh sob escapes from in between your lips, “And I hate it here and I hate this job but I don’t know what else to do at this point because I’ve worked my entire life to land here and I’m miserable.”

               Seonghwa opens his mouth to reply but you give a firm shake of your head. You can’t take him being kind to you, not without him knowing all of it.

               “I’m not a good person. I’ve made fun of you so many times before we began to hang out. Just casual comments here and there without thinking too much about you as a person. Because I was bored. And I’m ugly inside. I’m sorry,” You finish, crying so hard now that you think you’re going to snap in half.

               You can’t make out Seonghwa anymore since you’re crying too much. The office is cold, your skin has broken out into goosebumps and you feel very small in this office. The guilt that was eating away at you has now been vomited up into the world but you don’t feel any better.

               “Hey, you don’t think that I’m not aware of the jokes made about me?” Seonghwa says in a tone of someone trying not to startle a deer, “I know it’s easy to make fun of the guy who builds Lego kits for fun and has a stack of Animal Crossing amiibo cards. It doesn’t bother me.”

               “You’re lying,” You shake your head, “You’re still trying to be nice to me.”

               At this, Seonghwa laughs quietly. “What do you want me to do? Punish you because you cracked some jokes about my interests before we even knew each other?”

               “Yes!” You exclaim, “I need you to tell me I’m a bad person and that we can’t be friends anymore.” You rub your eyes furiously, knowing your makeup is a lost cause at this point.

               “What people say doesn’t impact me. Everyone always has something to say about me what I like and how I dress. If I paid attention to them, I’d be wasting all my energy on trying to get people to like me or know me,” He shrugs, “I have friends and family that I care about. Those are the people whose opinions matter to me.”

               “You’re the worst,” You squeak out, “You’re just so likeable all the time.”

               Seonghwa laughs louder at this remark and your crying begins to lessen. He raises up his hand and brushes some tears off your cheek. “You didn’t know me when you said those things. Everyone gets bored at work, wants to find something to talk about. Now that you know me, you felt so bad about what you said, you come to me crying about it.”

               “Even after we became friends, they would make jokes about you and I just let them. I like how I feel when we hang out –” Realizing how that sounds, you quickly backtrack, “I don’t mean just…I mean hanging out as friends. Not just the physical…anyway I just didn’t want them to know because I liked having this friendship that wasn’t tied to work. It wasn’t something work knew about. It was just mine. I got selfish. So if they talked about you, I stayed silent.” The tears are threatening to make a return and your bottom lip quivers. “But that was shitty of me. You deserve better. I’m sorry.”

               You are expecting anger at the confession that even after being friends with him and sleeping together, you still let people shit talk him. Or maybe that’s just want you wanted – your anger at yourself for not defending him, engaging in the shit talking, all the little jokes about him over the years, only noticing him because of a rumor, keeping him a secret because it suited you, all of it should lead Seonghwa down the path of being disgusted with you. It is what you deserve.

               But the expression on his face doesn’t change. “Listen, I appreciate the apology. I forgive you. It’s okay.”

               “No, it’s not okay,” You reply quickly, wishing he understood, “Why are you being so nice about it?”

               Seonghwa shifts his weight a little while reaching for your hand. His touch is minor but feels like an anchor. Feels like something more than friends, that frustrating little voice whispers.

               “I know my life. I know what I like, what I don’t, and who I want to spend time with. I know how to do my job and I know when to focus on a hobby, regardless of how it may be perceived as nerdy or whatever. I’m at ease with myself. You’re not at ease with yourself. You hate your job. You don’t have a social circle other than an honestly obnoxious set of coworkers who are bored with their lives. You’re lost and you’re unhappy.”

               “Damn, alright,” You breathe out, “Listen, I was expecting the friendship to be ended, not to be dragged to hell.”

               Seonghwa fights off a smile, his thumb gently grazing the top of your hand. “What you need right now is compassion, not hostility. You’re having a rough time and trying to make the best of it. I forgive you for anything you may have joked about me in the past.”

               “I also didn’t believe the rumor about you,” You say weakly, in one last final attempt to get the anger you felt you deserved, “I scoffed at it. Laughed at it even.”

               “Well, I think we got the rumor squared away, don’t you? Unless I misunderstood the gibberish sounds coming out of your mouth the other night,” He teases quietly.

               You let out a noise that sounds like a half cry, half laugh and rub your eyes again. You want to kiss him, you want him to hold you. But you’re at work, you’ve destroyed your makeup – and the two of you are still ultimately friends. It isn’t a friend who would kiss you at this moment.

               “How terrible do I look?” You ask, wondering if you could possibly pretend you threw up and leave early.

               But Seonghwa’s gaze only softens as he replies, “You look beautiful.”

*

               You end up sneaking out of the office early before anyone can catch sight of you. Back at your apartment, you scrub your face clean and change into the comfiest clothes you have.

               Then you just sit in silence on the couch, trying to work through the events of the afternoon. Tomorrow, you could apologize to your coworkers and try to fix things. But you don’t actually want to especially after apologizing to Seonghwa. It feels wrong to then go back to them.

               I care about Seonghwa more than a group of catty coworkers, you think but try not to analyze it too much. When it comes to Seonghwa, things are starting to feel a bit more than muddled with how you see him.

               You’re not at ease with yourself. You hate your job. You don’t have a social circle other than an honestly obnoxious set of coworkers who are bored with their lives. You’re lost and you’re unhappy. Everything Seonghwa has said today is true. His earlier words about the climb being enjoyable also float around.

               I’ve been so busy with work I haven’t stopped to think about if I even want to be doing what I do every day. But if I don’t want to do this, then what should I be doing? That same lost feeling is creeping up on you. You’ve been running from it for ages. To face it would mean everything in your life changing and that scares the hell out of you too. Maybe it’s easier to be miserable in a setting you know versus trying something new and not feeling the ground underneath your feet.

               Your phone buzzes then. You know it is going to be Seonghwa before you check the text.

               “How are you feeling?”

               “Okay, I guess. Are you still at work?”

               “I’m leaving in a few,” There is a pause as the next message takes longer to be typed out, “Let me know if I can do anything.” is what it ultimately says.

               “I will, thanks.”

               In truth, you want nothing more than to forget about the day by tumbling into Seonghwa’s arms. But you have been increasingly relying on him to distract you from the utter confusion of your life which isn’t right.

               On top of that, Seonghwa comes with his own set of confusion as well. The two of you are friends with benefits but the annoying way you get butterflies around him, and the way you wanted him to kiss you after being so comforting earlier was definitely not friendly. Now those feelings you weren’t quite ready to sit in yet.

               You were starting to get the sensation of being at the top of a rollercoaster right before it dropped. You just weren’t sure if you would survive the fall.

*

               You manage to cobble yourself together to return to work the next day although the giggles when walking past your coworkers tells you everything needed about that door closing. You feel weary, unable to care, knowing that things are shifting in your life but no idea where they are going to land.

               In the short term, however, that meant your routine of coffee across the street is busted. You could just eat lunch at your desk but thinking about spending time willingly in your cubicle makes you feel faintly sick.

               This realization leads you to seeking out Seonghwa around noon, wondering what he does during his lunch hour. You’ve seen him pop by the coffee shop a few times but not with any sort of regularity.

               He is in his cubicle, typing away in an overly long e-mail. You hover, aware that by asking him to hang out at work, it will be signaling to everyone on the floor the two of you are friends. But your desire to be around him is stronger than stares and rumors.

               “Seonghwa,” You say by way of greeting, “What are you doing?”

               “Finishing up an e-mail Sir Dipshit won’t read,” He replies grimly.

               You wonder if Sir Dipshit is aware the nickname you and your coworkers created for him has spread around the entire office to the point that even Seonghwa is casually using it. The thought pleases you.

               You lean down to look at his computer screen. Seonghwa stops typing, tilting his face in your direction. It mirrors the same position from before when he was helping you update your computer. You scan the e-mail, steadfastly ignoring the quickening of your heart.

               “Yeah, he won’t read this,” You confirm, “You have some words in here that have like eight letters or more in them.” He laughs and your brain buzzes pleasantly. “For the sake of honesty, I have no one to hang out with on my lunch hour anymore. What do you do?”

               “I usually go to the cafeteria on the fifth floor.”

               You turn to stare at him incredulously. “You don’t.”

               “I do. Why is that shocking?”

               “I just didn’t know anyone who actually goes there. I heard the food is apocalyptic.”

               “I’m pretty sure it’s made out of ex-employees,” He says with mock seriousness, “That’s why I bring my own lunch. I just don’t want to eat at my cubicle.”

               “Can I tag along?”

               “Sure,” He says quickly, hitting send on the e-mail, “Let’s go.”

*

               “No, explain it again,” You are saying twenty minutes later at one of the sterile tables in the mostly empty cafeteria.

               “You’re making fun of me,” Seonghwa says dryly, “You think it’s silly.”

               “No, I’m not saying it’s silly. I’ve just never sat around thinking about what I’d be doing in another universe.”

               “Maybe you should,” He counters, “You wouldn’t feel so limited in your current life.”

               You poke at the sandwich that was purchased after realizing you didn’t actually have anything to eat for lunch. A lukewarm cup of coffee is to your side – not up to your standards but what could you do about it? The coffee shop was off limits for now.

               “So, what…in another universe, at this very moment, you could be…a prince.”

               Seonghwa looks slightly perplexed. “I suppose so,” He replies slowly, “And you could be my childhood bully. Still talking shit about me even there.”

               Your head snaps up from looking at your sandwich, worried he is actually upset about your gossiping about him. But he is hiding his laughter, clearly making fun of you.

               “Hey,” You scowl, “You’re my singular friend, don’t scare me like that.”

               Seonghwa looks strangely serious for a second, looking down at his meal. “We are still friends, right?”

               You find the question curious and reply with a casual, “Well, yeah, of course.”

               He shifts a little. His hair has fallen in front of his glasses, making it difficult to read his expression. You aren’t sure what Seonghwa is thinking about so you keep talking. “I mean, why wouldn’t we be? Unless I missed something.”

               “No,” He says quickly, “You didn’t miss anything. I just wanted to make sure. Since you know…” He looks up then, making a small gesture between the two of you. “Sometimes things can change when physical…stuff is brought into it.”

               You are sitting very still now, almost at the centre of a tornado in your chest. “No, I mean, we are still – we get along really well. I think we have a good…friendship.” But the word feels wrong in your mouth, a bit sour for some reason.

               Seonghwa nods, his awkwardness radiating off him like a lighthouse helping ships to shore. “I assume…if we are going to date someone else, it would be best to…cut out the benefits part of the friendship. Since we’re…friends.”

               The mentioning of dating feels like a sucker punch to your stomach. The cheap coffee churns painfully in your gut.

               “Right, yeah, of course,” You say breezily in a tone that feels artificial and brittle, “That makes sense.”

               “I just wanted to check in and see if anything had changed,” He had collected himself now, displaying an almost professional demeanor, “But with everything going on, I hadn’t been able to. Sorry to bring it up over lunch.” It is a signal the conversation is over.

               But you are still snagged on the idea of Seonghwa dating someone else combined with the sudden knowledge that you couldn’t just casually fuck him forever. Eventually, time would bring changes, the very changes you feel exhausted running from.

               Desperate to get the earlier energy back, you go, “Hey, does your multiple universe theory work for other time periods? Like, could we have met in the 90’s?”

               “Sure, why not,” He has relaxed slightly. “You could be working at some department store or something.”

               “And maybe you just started working there too. And you have a secret. Something scandalous.”

               “A scandalous secret?” Seonghwa remarks incredulously, “Why are all your ideas so farfetched?”

               “Oh, that’s far-fetched but not the concept of multiple universes?”

               Seonghwa makes a noise of protest and the conversation continues. Even so, in the back of your head there is a dull throb. The ground is shifting underneath your feet, bringing you to the brink of making so many choices that you aren’t sure you’re ready for. Yet all you can picture is Seonghwa going on a date with someone else, wondering why it makes you feel vaguely ill.

*

               The work day is almost over and you’re anxious to get out of the building. Sir Dipshit is patrolling around the office, asking some people to stay late and you have no intention on being one of those selected. This meant loitering in the back of the break room, slightly angled to see down the hall. If you even get a whiff of your boss, you’d dart out of the room and scurry to the bathrooms.

               Nothing makes a grown woman feel more ridiculous than hiding out from her boss, you muse, hoping no one walks in and catches you acting weird.

               Of course, that is exactly when someone does walk in.

               Luckily, it is Seonghwa. He notices you immediately and raises one eyebrow. You bring a finger to your lips and motion for him to come over.

               “What are you doing?” He whispers.

               “Sir Dipshit is trying to recruit people to stay late and I will not be one of them.”

               “So…just tell him no.”

               “And get a lecture? That’s just as bad. I can’t handle a teamwork lecture right now.”

               “Why are you hiding in the break room instead of one of the offices in the back that we’re using as glorified storage?”

               “Oh, shit, I forgot about those.”

               You reach for Seonghwa’s hand, yanking him along with you after making sure the hallway is clear. Behind the break room is a hallway near the bathrooms that have three separate offices. After upper management was condensed last year and a bunch of people got laid off, the offices had fallen into disuse.

               You jiggle the handle of one which is locked. But the second office opens, allowing you to sneak inside and close the door behind Seonghwa. You pull down the blinds on the window facing the hallway and ram your back awkwardly into a gigantic pile of boxes.

               “Ow, why is this shit still in here?” You hiss.

               Seonghwa looks confused as to why he is hiding out alongside you. “No one wants to organize it and then scan the copies into the digital backup.”

               There is still an empty desk in the room although most of it is covered in clutter. You wiggle past some boxes and go behind the desk, eying underneath.

               “We could duck under here if we hear him.”

               “Uhm, can I be honest for a second?” He doesn’t wait for you to reply, “This feels a bit ridiculous.”

               “Well, then leave,” You fire back, “But I have twenty minutes to kill and you’re casting a shadow against the blinds. So make a choice.”

               Seonghwa sighs but doesn’t leave, sliding through an opening in the clutter to stand next to you by the desk. There isn’t a lot of room – or light, seeing as the window is blocked with boxes almost touching the ceiling.

               “This is extremely disorganized,” Seonghwa notes, pushing up on his glasses, “It should probably be tended to.”

               “Why don’t you volunteer?”

               “Well, I, uh, with the work I have, I don’t really have the time to sort through all of this.”

               “Right and I bet if you ask every single person in this entire building, they’d say the same thing.” A noise in the hallway gets your attention, “Shit, be quiet.”

               You pull on Seonghwa’s hand so that he crouches down behind the desk with you. There is a brief shadow against the blinds but it only lasts for a moment. Most likely someone heading to the bathroom. It suddenly hits you how absurd it is to be hiding out here. Maybe Seonghwa is right.

               You turn your head in his direction to tell him as much. But Seonghwa is studying your face with such intensity that the words die in your throat. There is something unguarded in the expression, a rawness to it that you aren’t expecting and it is evident he hadn’t thought you were going to look at him in that second. But before you can say anything, Seonghwa is suddenly kissing you.

               Surprised, you pull away, looking at his face which now includes a lipstick mark smeared across his lips. “What’s that for?” You whisper, your heartrate accelerating so quickly that you’re breathless.

               “S-sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” He stammers, shaking his head, “I know we can’t – I shouldn’t do something like that at work.”

               You weren’t meaning work but the words die in your mouth as you tug on his nerdy looking suspenders so that his lips are on yours again. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat as the kiss deepens. His hand goes to the back of your neck, pushing you against his body.

               Sprawled out in the narrow space behind the desk, the two of you pawing at one another as if you’re in the back of a movie theatre, you press your hand down against his groin, feeling his hard cock through his slacks. Seonghwa inhales sharply as his hands grope your tits. He sucks on your tongue for a moment as you hitch up your skirt so it’s easier to straddle him. His back is against the side of the desk and you rock against him, wishing that you could fuck him but knowing it would be a fool’s errand to try to take his girth at work when you can barely fit him inside you in your own bedroom.

               In between the kissing, you manage to say, “We can’t fuck at work.”

               “I know,” Seonghwa’s voice is taunt and cracks at the edge, “That’s playing with fire and too dangerous.”

               “What? No, I don’t care about that. Your dick is just too big and it takes too long for you to get in me.”

               Seonghwa laughs against your skin and then covers his own mouth, trying to keep himself silent. His cheeks are flushed and glasses are askew which you fix. But he has your lipstick over his face. So much for transfer proof, you think, slightly annoyed because the lipstick was not cheap.

               “Come home with me,” You whisper urgently, “We can come back for your bike.”

               Seonghwa is lowering his hand down your skirt, pressing his fingers against your clit through your underwear. You jolt at the touch, thighs clenching as he brings his fingers underneath your underwear to probe your wet folds.

               “Okay but first you have to cum,” He murmurs, “And you can’t make noise or take too long,” He moves a finger upwards to your clit, circling it lazily, “Judging by how wet you are, that second thing won’t be a problem.”

               Your hands dig into his shoulders, a strangled moan leaving your mouth. Seonghwa shakes his head, a silent reminder to be quiet. You clamp down on your bottom lip.

               You’re so wet that his finger keeps sliding off your clit but he doesn’t stop. He watches your ever changing facial expressions.

               But being silent is becoming impossible. When a second moan tumbles free, Seonghwa brings up his other hand to your mouth, nudging your lips open a little before inserting two fingers inside. You close down around them, effectively muffled by their presence as he continues to rub your clit.

               You know it is risky and silly to be doing something like this at work. Even if the offices are in disuse, there is still a risk of being caught. You simply can’t bring yourself to care enough to stop, not with Seonghwa making you feel this good. You enjoy the way he looks at you and enjoy biting down on his fingers when the pleasure becomes too much.

               It doesn’t take you long to finish against his finger. Your orgasm is somehow as intense as it would be from fucking for hours but between trying to be quiet and Seonghwa’s fingers in your mouth, you don’t make very much noise.

               Seonghwa brings his own finger to his mouth, tasting you against his tongue. You can feel his rock hard cock against your leg with how turned on he is from the entire situation. He pulls you in for another kiss and this one is slightly messy and on edge.

               “Twenty minutes, meet me at my car,” You whisper and then pause before adding on, “But you should go to the bathroom first because my lipstick is all over you.”

               Seonghwa blushes, looking like a flower in spring, and your heart constricts.

*

               “You shouldn’t do that,” Seonghwa’s voice is cracked at the edges as his fingers dig into the edge of the passenger seat of your car, “Or…at least only do it at red lights,” He amends quickly.

               You pull your hand away from his groin, gripping the steering wheel instead. Fine, so maybe you are sorta groping him a bit on the drive home. But even though he made you cum only twenty-five minutes ago, you are almost light headed at the thought of fucking him. You don’t think you’ve wanted to fuck someone this desperately – something that, if you allowed yourself to think about it, would lead you down one logical conclusion. But your brain neatly skirts around the issue, focusing only on your desire for Seonghwa.

               “Good idea,” You reply, thinking the drive to your apartment has never taken longer.

               Seonghwa shifts in his seat, his hands delicately clasped over the very obvious, very large tent in his pants. You sneak a glance at him – the light colour on his cheeks, the pinkish hue of his lips, the way his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose – and look away before he notices.

               A couple seconds later, you get stuck at a red light which means your hand slides over his thigh and onto the bulge in his pants. He moves his hands away, inhaling sharply as you grope his dick.

               “Fuck, you gotta stop or you’re gonna make me cum in my pants,” He finally gasps, “At this point I’m going to last two seconds by the time I get in you.”

               “Well, it’ll take ages just to get your dick in me,” You reply while moving your hand away, “We can count that towards your time.”

               Seonghwa laughs quietly. His hands are back to gripping the side of the seat. The light turns green and it takes all your willpower not to just floor it to get home faster.

               After what feels like an eternity, you are at your apartment, turning your car off. The two of you manage to keep your hands off one another in the lobby but once the elevator doors close to take you to the fifth floor, Seonghwa has you pushed against the wall, his hands on your waist while his tongue is in your mouth.

               Too swept up in one another, you only realize the elevator doors have opened when you hear a small, horrified gasp. Seonghwa pulls away from you, his cheeks a bright pink. An old lady with a scowl on her face is gawking at the two of you.

               You grab Seonghwa’s hand, tugging him out of the elevator past the judgmental old woman. “Have a nice night!” You shout over your shoulder while turning the corner.

               Seonghwa makes a noise that sounds like half laughter, half horror. As you fumble in your purse to try to find your keys at your front door, his hands sneak up to your ass, his chest against your back as he kisses your neck. You manage to fetch your keys but almost drop them on the floor when he bites down against your skin.

               Tumbling into your apartment together, Seonghwa kicks the door shut as you pull on his suspenders again to hungrily bring his mouth against yours. You are against the small table by the front door and something clatters to the floor which you don’t pay attention to, instead dropping your purse next to it.

               Seonghwa’s long fingers are trying to unbutton the front of your shirt as you slip the suspenders off his shoulders. You can’t explain why the desire is so overwhelming, spilling out from the both of you as he finally tugs your shirt off, hands immediately groping your tits through your bra. You just know that it far surpasses anything you’ve felt previously and that you won’t be able to think clearly until he has fucked the hell out of you.

               You push against his hard abdomen, the kiss breaking for a second as you motion to go to your bedroom. Even the short walk there is not without touching and kissing each other as Seonghwa unbuttons his own shirt and tossing it onto the floor just outside your room.

               You are so turned on that your skin feels as if it is made from pure electricity. You grip Seonghwa’s hair as you bring him in for a kiss, his soft locks wrapped around your fingers as you nip at his bottom lip with your teeth. He groans in your mouth, the desperation evident in the way his voice cracks.

               You lose your footing, bringing him onto the bed with you. His half dressed body is against yours as his head moves away from your lips down to your neck, yanking your bra down to expose your tits. Your arms trail up along the firm muscles of his back before coming to rest on his shoulders. Your mind flashes to how he felt pressed against your back in the hallway.

               “Seonghwa,” You murmur as his hand gropes your tit, pinching your nipple in between his fingers to make you jump, “Fuck me from behind.”

               His breathing catches and he pulls away from you to finish undressing while you do the same. With the rest of your clothes forming a small pile on the floor, you look at him naked in front of the bed. He is stroking his big hard cock, the light of the setting sun cutting through the half lowered blinds to lay lazily across his toned stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more than Seonghwa in this moment.

               You turn around to get on all fours as Seonghwa runs his fingers down your back, stopping just above your ass. You shiver, your skin breaking out in goosebumps from the light touch.

               “Are you wet enough for me?” He asks quietly, his hand lowering to touch your folds, making a small noise of approval, “Oh, you’re practically dripping.”

               He gently presses down on your back to lower your body closer to the bed, your ass in the air as he nudges your legs apart wider to try to get ready for his cock. It’s easier to make your next request without having to look him in the face.

               “Will you spank me?”

               You can feel Seonghwa hesitate for a moment before he speaks, “Is this because of what you told me before?”

               “Yes.” Your cheeks feel like two hot tiny suns.

               “I told you I forgave you for gossiping about me.”

               “I know. I just…” It is strange to feel this shy especially around Seonghwa of all people. “I just have been thinking about it. You touching me like that.”

               His hand is on your ass now, a small weight against the skin. You know Seonghwa held no malice towards you about the gossip and it wasn’t even truly about the fact you had shit talked him before – that was just the setup, the excuse to let yourself daydream about him spanking you.

               “Tell me when you want me to stop,” He replies and then his other hand comes down sharply against your ass in a sudden spank.

               You gasp, unprepared for it, rocking forward slightly from the impact. It somehow felt better than you were expecting. This isn’t something you typically do with partners but the idea of nerdy Seonghwa with his long fingers spanking you refused to leave your mind. Now, after the first spank, you know that you want more.

               His other hand leaves your skin briefly to spank you on the other side. Your hands splay out against the blanket, gasping in pleasure from the sensation.

               “If you take my cock well, I’ll keep spanking you,” He says, positioning his length at your entrance.

               You’re desperate for him to enter you and when you feel the tip of his cock pressing against your cunt, you feel almost relieved. Seonghwa goes slowly, aware that even though you’ve taken him before, this position is new and you’re still not used to his girth.

               But you take the tip almost easily which rewards you with another heavy spank. You know that you’re soaking wet, already clenching down around the tip of Seonghwa when his hand smacks against your skin.

               “Relax for me,” His voice is soft, completely different from the sensation of his hand spanking your ass, “There you go, baby. Now, take more of me.”

               He moves his hips a little as your walls stretch out around his big dick. Taking him from behind feels completely different from the last time. Your brain feels as if someone has picked it up and is emptying it out across a beach, every thought being washed away by the growing pleasure.

               Seonghwa spanks you again, so hard that your hands form fists to grab the blanket. You gasp as his cock sinks deeper into your cunt. You try not to clench down around him, reminding yourself to relax so that more of him can enter but he feels so good that it is difficult to keep that in the forefront of your mind.

               Seonghwa presses down on your back again, your ass higher in the air so that he can push more of his length into your pussy. Your eyes are closed now, his name leaving your lips every few seconds as if it is some sort of chant.

               “Halfway,” He tells you, rewarding you with another sharp spank across your ass, making you groan, “I have to admit that I never thought I’d be fucking you like this, spanking you and hearing you moan.”

               You would reply if your brain could form any words. All Seonghwa gets in reply is a garbled moan as more of him enters your cunt.

               “Is this what you’ve been thinking about since you apologized? Being ‘punished’ like this?” Another spank as he pushes forward. Your pussy is so wet that you’re starting to take him faster. “It’s a beautiful sight seeing your ass in the air like this with my cock stretching out your small hole. What was that?” Another spank. “Was that you trying to say my name?”

               It was. His name leaves your mouth again just as jumbled up as before. You’re downright delirious from how turned on you are. He pushes his cock in harder this time, all the way to the edge. The final effort makes you groan, trying to move your ass backwards to meet his movement.

               Seonghwa’s voice is taunt when he goes, “There, baby, all the way in. Does it feel okay?”

               You know he is just checking in but describing how you currently feel as just ‘okay’ seems to be a big disservice. You moan out a ‘yes’ and Seonghwa tentatively rocks his hips, getting you ready to be fucked by him. At the same time, he brings his hand down hard against your ass. Your skin is tender now, making you jump at the touch which only means you rock back against his cock.

               He inhales, cursing softly under his breath. You almost wish that your room had a mirror so you could watch him fuck you. You try to picture what he must look like, lithe and toned with his slender hips bucking into you, his hand striking your ass, glasses perched on his nose.

               Your pussy is used to him now, taking his length easier with each small movement of his hips. Seonghwa begins to pull out a little more before thrusting back in. You moan, your eyes practically rolling back in your head as your cheek comes to rest against the blanket, unable to even pretend to hold yourself up any longer.

               Seonghwa’s pace steadily increases, his breathing growing ragged with each thrust. The angle feels amazing as his cock easily slides in and out of your extremely wet cunt. Your fingers grip the blanket, mouth going slack as moans topple from it constantly. There is not a single thought in your head as Seonghwa fucks you with his big dick.

               The spanking has ceased now that his focus has shifted on fucking. His fingers dig into your hips, the sound of your wet cunt taking his cock sounding obscene. You realize you’re drooling a bit, getting some on the blanket from how zoned out you are from pleasure. You manage to wiggle one hand downward to rub your clit as he fucks you, bucking your hips backwards as you gasp.

               “Are you going to cum for me?” Seonghwa gasps in between thrusts.

               You whimper, eyes shut tightly as your finger rubs your clit hard and fast, unable to answer. Your orgasm is approaching quickly, your pussy tightening around Seonghwa’s big cock. He groans and the sound of skin against skin grows louder as his pace increases.

               “Take my cock, baby,” He says and you curse, moving your hips backwards against his dick, “I wanna feel you cum around me.”

               You groan out his name as your climax begins. You can feel yourself gushing out over his cock, covering it with your wetness as your walls clench down around him. Seonghwa moans loudly, thrusting hard before beginning his own orgasm. His balls empty in your cunt, filling you up with his hot load. Your pussy is too tight and his cum is forced out due to the size of him, smearing against your thighs and leaking onto the bed. The two of you make a cacophony of noise while climaxing and it isn’t until he pulls out of your cunt that you collapse against the bed, feeling like a fucked out mess.

               Seonghwa falls onto the bed next to you, his eyes closed as he tries to catch his breath. You manage to open your eyes to stare at him as he yanks his glasses off his face, tossing them unceremoniously onto the bedside table before rolling onto his side.

               A few strands of hair sticks to his forehead from sweat and you turn to face him, brushing it off his face. He catches your hand in his, pressing his lips against the inside of your wrist. You aren’t sure who moves first but in seconds, you’re tangled up in Seonghwa again. You like how safe you feel against him, your hands on his chest to feel his fast heartbeat underneath your fingertips. These kisses are slower, lazier, comfortable – and absolutely not something just friends should be doing. The little voice in the back of your head jolts you out of the kissing.

               Pulling away, feeling totally thrown off, you go, “I should ah…clean up a little.”

               Something flickers through Seonghwa’s gaze but it is gone too quickly for you to make sense of it. He nods and you slip away from him, feeling a pang of regret. Once you’re in the bathroom with the door firmly shut behind your back, you catch your reflection in the mirror.

               Your makeup is a mess, your ass definitely is going to have Seonghwa’s handprints on it, your thighs are covered in cum and you look absolutely fucked out. But it isn’t your appearance that is making your heart race. It’s the soft kisses Seonghwa just gave you, the way he is so easy to sink against, the manner in which you feel drawn to him like no other.

               Your mind flashes back to the conversation at lunch and the idea of him dating someone else.

               We’re just friends, you tell yourself firmly.

               But then why does everything feel so off kilter?

FINAL PART HERE.

Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @leo-seonghwa - @hwalysm - @revehosh - @mulletjoonsupremacy - @byungaji - @erensluut - @singularity777 - @hwa-whiskers - @luxvatz - @seonghwasstar - @eyesonlyformingi - @rxnexxi - @rosealie05 - @right-here-in-these-arms - @moonsangie - @yeonjuns-sock - @pink-hwaberry - @fudgeflyssworld - @ninalove323 - @darkdayelixer - @mixling-blog - @innsomniacshinestar - @tmtxtf-library - @sookacc - @xirenex - as usual, a few of you i couldn’t tag so i’ll try to reach out to yall.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fics #kpop fic #wallflower #500 notes

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ pregnancy test ୧ matt

summary: y/n finds out she’s pregnant for the second time.

notes: english is not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! 1.2k words.

warnings: fluff, cussing, sad, panic attack.

୨୧

Me and Matt have been dating for the past 5 years, we live together and we also have a 2 years old little kid, called Evie. Well, being honest, Evie wasn’t really expected, but she was never a problem. We do love having Evie at home, even It being a little bit exhausting.

Lately my stomach has not been the best. I've been feeling nauseous all the time. I throw up almost every night, and on top of it, my period is late.

Am I pregnant?

I didn’t told any of this to Matt, and honestly, I really don’t know how he would react. I mean, we never talked about a second child, he never talked about another child, he probably doesn’t even want another child. Fuck really I gotta stop overthinking.

Now, In bed, Matt just fell asleep. And I’m struggling to. I just can’t fall asleep thinking that I can possibly be pregnant.

I get up quietly, trying not to wake up Matt. I go over to the bathroom and I close the door behind me. I look at myself in the mirror. I look tired. I take a deep breath. With shaky hands, I reach out for the pregnancy test that I bought yesterday. I do the test. I wait and wait. I bit my nails stressful. I start getting anxious.

As soon as I check the test, positive. Holy fuck. There’s no way this is actually happening.

My vision blurs, the whole room feels like It’s spinning. I sit on the floor, trying to stay calm. Each breath comes in short, ragged gasps as I fight against the suffocating weight of my anxiety. Tears stream down my cheeks uncontrollably as my heart races. I need Matt. I need to be in his arms. But what will he say?

Im sobbing completely, I can’t see a shit, my panic attack is just getting worst.

I start hearing steps in the hallway. I know it’s Matt, I hide the test behind me. He opens the door. “Babe why are you not in bed-“ Matt's sleepy and concerned voice trails off as he notices me crying on the floor, he automatically sits down next to me and pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me with a comforting strength that I desperately need in that moment.

I bury my face against his chest, my tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as he holds me close. I cling to him desperately, my body shaking with sobs as he holds me tight.

"Shh.. It's okay.. I'm right here for you.. Focus on me babe..” I keep sobbing and crying aggressively, non stop.

Matt cups my cheeks with his hands, lifting my head from his chest. “I need you to take a deep breath in..” He demonstrates how to do It. “Now, let it out..”

After a few moments of breathing, he asks. “Can you please tell me what’s going on love?”

With tears still streaming down my cheeks, I swallow hard, and I finally start talking. “I.. Took a pregnancy test..” With trembling hands, I reach for the pregnancy test hidden behind me, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold it out for him to see.

Matt's eyes widen. Then, without a word, Matt gently takes the test from my trembling hands, his gaze fixed on the plastic stick.

I start feeling desperate, loosing my breath again. “I think I’m pregnant, I’m sorry..”

Matt's expression softens as he looks at me. "Don’t cry.. it’s okay.. It’s not a bad thing.." He murmurs, pulling me into his embrace once more.

"It is a bad thing, Matt" I finally manage to choke out. "I know you don't want this kid."

Matt's arms tighten around me, his embrace a comforting me. "Hey.. hey.." He murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing circles on my back. "I never said that..” He pauses “I know.. Hmm.. I know It wasn’t the plan, but I do want this kid, okay?” He says looking into my eyes.

"It's not that simple, Matt.." I whisper, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart. "I can't just pretend that everything is okay when it's clearly not.” I sob, loudly.

He looks at me sadly, not knowing exactly what to answer. “Why don’t we go back to our room and talk better there? Huh?” He says in a comforting tone.

I nod, sniffing. He helps me getting back up and we make our way to the bed. We lay down, I cuddle with Matt, my head on his chest, like a pillow. I cry. He strokes my hair, trying to comfort me. “Are you mad at me?” I lift my head, facing him.

His hand strokes my hair softly as he looks into my eyes. "Hey, listen to me" he murmurs, his voice gentle. "I could never be mad at you, okay?” He pulls me closer. “I could never be mad at you for something like this, don’t overthink It..” He kisses my forehead.

I let out a shaky breath. "I’m scared.." I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "What about Evie, Matt?”

He spreads kisses on my face, and wipes my tears away with his thumb. “Evie will love to have a sister, I promise you.”

“I’m not ready Matt.. What if she feels left out, or if we can't give her enough attention with another baby?” I sniff, sadly. “I’m not even a good mom.." Words catching in my throat.

He pulls away slightly, his brows furrowing with a mix of confusion and frustration. "What do you mean you are not a good mom?" He asks, like I’m lying to his face. "Where is this coming from?"

I stay silent, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. Matt's tone is firm, his frustration evident as he waits for my response.

“Look at me. I don’t wanna hear those words coming out of your mouth ever again.”

"You're an amazing mom. Evie adores you, and so do I. You do the best you can, and that's all that matters. I don’t wanna hear that stupid shit again, do you understand that?”

I struggle to accept his words, the weight of my insecurities. "I'm sorry Matt.." I whisper, tears streaming down my cheeks once again. "I'm trying, I really am, I swear... But sometimes, it just feels like I'm not enough.." I completely break down again, crying even more than before.

As I break down in tears once more, Matt pulls me even closer, his arms a comforting shield around me. “Shh..“

“I love you so much, I don’t want you to leave me..” I say sobbing, hugging him the tighter and tighter.

“I love you too.. I’m not leaving you, I’m not going anywhere.” I cling into his body, leaving stains of my tears on his shirt.

"I'm just so scared" I admit, my voice trembling with vulnerability.

“You are safe with me, I’m not leaving you ever.” He keeps looking into my eyes while I avoid eye contact.

I shake my head as a no, getting more overwhelmed about all of this. “I don’t know If I can do this.”

“Everything will be just fine, I promise you.”

After some good twenty minutes, still with his arms around me, I start relaxing again. Tears continue to fall, but they're softer now. He continues to shower me with affection, leaving my face with gentle kisses and soft caresses, his fingers on my hair, I feel the tension slowly melting away, until we both fall asleep.

୨୧

i was so confused about what to do at the end, i hate this sm but i don’t have anything to post 😭😭

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagines #chris sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo smut #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo x reader #christhopersturniolo #christopher stu

[ficcidio]

FINE LINE

pairing: idol bf!chris x idol!reader

genre: angst, fluff, comfort

warnings: hateful comments, swear words, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader has an anxiety attack, and has a trauma with bullying, i think that’s it

a/n: everytime i listen to this song i imagine this situation and i needed to write abt it, hope u like it love u <3 (not proofread btw)

ᯤ now playing: fine line by harry styles

— 시작

“she’s so ugly” “they shouldn’t have made it public” “how can he be with someone like her?” “is this a joke?” “chan deserves better” “i hope y/n dies.”

those were the comments you were receiving for these last two hours. dispatch had just revealed your relationship with chris and you were already receiving threatening, hateful messages. you didn’t want this, you didn’t chose it. you were so mad and so hurt. why would they do it without your consent? what if you were going through something? which you actually were.

2 a.m, you couldn’t sleep. you didn’t read not even one nice comments. they were all talking about how bad you are for him, how you don’t deserve it, how they want you dead. your past memories came in flashbacks and tears started running down your cheeks, you couldn’t stop crying loudly, not even thinking about how much noise you were causing. chris had already left you 20 messages and 3 missed calls but you just couldn’t answer. you didn’t have energy, it’s like they had taken everything from you and your sadness was the only thing left.

you threw your phone, not caring if it broke or not, only focusing on your thoughts, your memories triggering you. remembering your old self being hurt, called things, threatened, being humiliated publicly. before you even noticed, you couldn’t breathe anymore. you were fighting just to get some air. your phone rings again, and again, and again. you lost count on how many messages and calls you received, but your fear and embarrassment were much more important. you were incredibly scared.

you didn’t know how much time had passed until you heard the door open. it was chan. you situation was still the same, crying, being hard to breathe. you truly wanted to pretend it was fine, didn’t want to worry him, but you couldn’t stop the tears and the loudness was unstoppable.

you heard quick steps, probably running to find you. when he finally heard the sobs coming out of the bathroom, he entered the room as soon as possible and looked down at you laying on the floor. he kneeled and removed the hair that covered your face. there he found your beautiful eyes with tears in them, letting them fall, loudly crying. “my baby” he whispered as he lifted you from the floor. he sat there and put you on his lap. he kissed the tears on your cheeks softly while hugging you tightly. his warmth made you feel like all the air you needed was finally coming through your lungs, finally breathing normally

“shhh, it’s okay baby” he comforted you as he patted your head and you tried to hold your tears. “it’s not” you finally talked “they all hate me”

“they don-“ you didn’t even let him finish “they do, chris, they want me to die” you hid your face in the crook of his neck as you kept crying uncontrollably

“those people are just mean. don’t let them control your life, pretty. don’t think about them. it’s just me and you now, yeah? they’re not getting in between us. i won’t let them”

“but what if they do something to you? what if the company doesn’t accept us?” you said quietly, trying to catch your breath while sobbing

“i will fight for us, y/n” he started “i won’t let anyone put a finger on you, nobody will touch you as long as you’re with me. nobody will hurt you, i will protect you with my life”

“i’m scared…” you said in a thin voice that could barely be heard

“i know you must be terrified, but you’re not alone, yeah? we’re in this together. we’re more than a couple, we’re a team, and i refuse to come here if it’s not with you holding my hand” he stated “my love, i don’t care losing my job, my fans or my fame. none of them are as important as you are. you’re essential, you’re needed. i only care about you right now”

you felt his love in every of his words, he never failed to make you feel appreciated. he gave you a beautiful sweet smile that calmed you down almost immediately. the tears started to slow down until they finally stopped. meanwhile he was mumbling that one song you always listened to together. all those hurtful memories were no longer there. peace. relieve. that’s what you felt. maybe all this comments were still there, but you were no longer alone. actually, you were never alone. he held your hand tightly and used the other one to grab your face gently and make you look at him

“you just hold my hand like this, and you’ll see how everything bad comment, every threat, every single one of their words will no longer mean anything to you. always walk by my side. i’m not gonna leave you behind.” he kissed the palm of your hand a couple times and a smile appeared on your face. “there it is. your gorgeous smile” you couldn’t help but giggle and kiss his cheek softly

he lifted you up and carried you to your bedroom. he quietly put you in the bed as he did the same. you felt tired from crying, your eyes hurt so much and they felt so heavy. he kissed your head and hugged you warmly. “if anyone wants to separate us, they will have to bring down a torch from heaven and set us fire” he whispered. you smiled and clung tighter to him.

“we’ll be alright, beautiful. we’ll be okay as long as we stay together. and we will” he promised, and you fully believed him. you knew he was right. he always was.

#skz #straykids #ficcidio #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan comfort #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bangchan x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader

[redrose10]

I’m still working on a couple requests I got this past weekend plus the next chapter of The Interlude Inn and I’m thinking about posting the original ending of Cinnamon & Vanilla that I had planned before it went in a completely different direction.

But here is just a small little thing I’ve been thinking about lately that hopefully helps at least one other person feel better!

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Warning: Mentions of anxiety, hints of a panic attack

Yoongi knows something is wrong. Normally you’d come running up to him to throw your arms around his neck while peppering him with kisses before he could even get his jacket off. Or you’d be in the kitchen cooking him a seven course meal even though he’s told you a million times that he’d be perfectly happy with a package of instant noodles as long as you were sitting next to him. But right now he finds neither of those.

The kitchen is untouched. No lights are on. The house is quiet except for the shower which he hears running the closer he gets to the bedroom. Double checking his watch he sees that it is indeed only 5pm. Yoongi knows that you prefer to shower right before bed so that you are all clean and moisturized and warm before getting under the covers and it’s still way to early for you to be getting ready to go to sleep.

He also knows that when your anxiety is getting the best of you that you like to take a long hot shower. He’s seen you get up and shower at 2am even though you just showered a few hours before. He’s seen you get up during the middle of a movie only to hear the shower click on minutes later. He never stops you or questions you. Instead he lays there and waits for you to return to see if you need anything or to ask if you’d like to talk about it. Sometimes he just opens his arms and lets you fall into his embrace. He knows all the ways to help you get through your moments of darkness.

Gently he pushes open the bathroom door just to check and make sure you’re okay. His heart cracks as he sees you sitting on the floor of the shower letting the hot water cascade down your body while your head hangs low, your shoulders heaving with sobs.

Yoongi softly taps on the shower glass to let you know he’s in the room, but you already knew. The heat from the shower amplifying the smell of his cologne and you could feel the aura of comfort that just seems to follow him around. You need him. “Yoongi please.”, is all you manage to get out before your voice breaks, but he still knows what you want. Quickly he removes his uniform discarding it in the hamper. He pulls open the shower door, the steam taking his breath away for a second. He sits down cross legged in front of you, but doesn’t move or speak. He wants to give you a chance to acclimate to his presence.

When you look up and make eye contact with him you cry a little harder. He doesn’t force you to move or try to get you to talk. He just wants you to know that he’s there so he simply sits on the floor of the shower with you until you’re ready to get out. Whether it’s for another five minutes or forty five minutes he’ll be there.

After the water has long run cold and you’ve cried as much as you could, he gets both of you out of the shower. He rubs your body down with your favorite moisturizer to make sure your skin doesn’t get damaged from the hot water and then he hands you your favorite hoodie of his that he makes sure has a light spray of his cologne. He’s runs off and throws on a tshirt and a pair of sweats and when he returns he finds you sitting on the floor leaning back against the bed. He can tell you’re still in your thoughts and close to going back to the darkness.

He’s sits down next you and helps you onto his lap. Softly he grasps your hands and places them on his cheeks encouraging you to squish them, something you used to do whenever your anxiety would get bad. He’d always pretend to hate it, but you both knew that was all an act. It was a silly thing, but when all else failed it seemed to be the one thing that always worked. As you watched his chubby cheeks squish together over and over and he playfully rolled his eyes your chest began to feel a little lighter and once you saw his gummy smile it was like you could feel the bad feelings and thoughts being pulled from your body and releasing you from their grasp.

“Thank you”, you whispered before you snuggled your face in to his neck. He rubbed small circles on your back before placing a kiss to the top of your head.

Yoongi knew something was wrong. He knew that when you were ready you’d talk to him. But until then he knew he’d be there for you any way he could, even if it meant spending the night sitting on the bedroom floor while his cheeks became your own personal stress relievers.

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #yoongi x y/n #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi fluff #bts yoongi #yoongi #bts fic #yoo

[flohamilton]

Can you do one with Steve Harrington x female reader and the reader has a bad pregnancy and faints or has panic attacks?

Thank you so much for this request!! I am SO SO SO sorry it took me this long to get to it, I had a bit of a rough month haha. But please enjoy <3

paring: Steve Harrington x pregnant!reader

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, anxiety and panic attacks, mentions of blacking out

category: hurt/comfort

word count: 1.3k

Our Girl - Steve Harrington x pregnant!reader

All you needed to do was pee. The baby perfectly positioned herself on your bladder and despite you just having peed only an hour ago, it was dire. There wasn’t much stopping you from staying in your comfortable spot in bed, but you worried you would accidentally pee the bed and waking Steve to help change the sheets was the last thing you wanted to do. That had just happened two weekends ago and even though Steve, being the saint he was, sent you to the couch to lay down while he cleaned up, you couldn’t help but feel extreme guilt for waking him up so often to help deal with you and your pregnancy issues.

You tried to quickly get out of bed, emphasis on tried. At seven months your bump had become big enough to obstruct you from most of your daily activities.

Your shared bedroom with Steve was dark and you stumbled your way to the bathroom, feeling the wall for the light switch. It wasn’t until the bright white lights illuminated the bathroom that you were suddenly hit with a strong bout of dizziness. You groaned, leaning forward onto the sink hoping that would help steady you.

For the past few months of your pregnancy you had been blacking out. It didn’t happen often, but when it did it scared the hell out of you. You rested your head against the edge of the sink, trying to ward away the panic that was rising inside of you. The dizziness was only getting worse and you were beginning to feel more faint by the minute.

“Steve,” you called out, feeling as though your voice was coming out barely above a whisper. You feared he wouldn’t be able to hear you from the bedroom. You started to feel the edges of you vision go dark and your heart was pounding rapidly now. You were beginning to get scared.

“Steve!” you called out with all the strength you could muster, hoping it would be enough for him to hear you. Leaning against the bathroom sink, wrapping your arm protectively around your bump, a small attempt to protect your baby.

You knew you had dropped to the floor and in an instant everything was black. Your brain felt fuzzy and muffled, but you were brought out of it by the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Y/n, I’m right here. Come back to me. You’re okay, come back now,” you hear Steve’s voice, calm, for your sake, but still undeniably shaky.

You began to come out of your unconscious state and moaned slightly as you came to, the bathroom lights seeming all too bright now.

“There’s my girl,” Steve whispered looking down at you from his hovering position above you, relief was painted on his face but you noticed how pale he looked.

“Steve, it happened again,” you whimpered, feeling tears begin to prick your eyes, frustration and defeat building up in you now.

“I know, but it’s okay, you’re okay now - you do feel okay, right? You don’t feel like you’re gonna black out again do you?” His soft brown eyes flashed with worry over your face and body, checking for any signs injury.

“No,” you interjected, feeling slightly flushed at his panicked questions. “I’m just overwhelmed and shaky still.” You paused. “… that was really scary,” you muttered, chest beginning to constrict with anxiety.

Steve took notice immediately, “Here,” he said sitting flat on the floor against the base of the bathroom sink, separating his legs. “Come sit in front of me, babe.” You did your best to crawl closer to him, settling your back against his chest. He wrapped one hand protectively against your bump and grabbed your hand with the other.

“The baby -“ you reached for your bump, desperate to feel any sign of her stirring around, you just wanted to know that she was okay. “I can’t feel her yet.”

At once all of the fears you had for your baby began to invade your mind. You were constantly on pins and needles with anxiety for her, and after this incident, you could swear the pins felt like daggers. Was she okay? Did you hurt her by blacking out? Was your anxiety causing stress for her? The questions swirled in your mind, threatening to take your over completely. You felt your self starting to lose control a bit, your breathing was growing more rapid and your heart was pounding in your chest again. You tried to center yourself with a deep breath but the air felt as if it was caught in your throat, unable to go up or down like you were choking.

“She’s okay, baby, she’s okay. Just breathe y/n, breathe,” he cooed, gently stoking your bump softly. “She’s probably sleeping, she’s should be tried for how much she was kicking you after dinner,” Steve said, an obvious attempt at lightening the mood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile, you were too consumed with worry.

Steve leaned looked down at you now, “Y/n,” he sighed, this time in a more serious tone. “I know that was scary, but she’s okay, she’s safe,” he said gesturing to your bump. “You have to try to be calm, honey, I know it’s hell when you can’t feel her moving, but you have to try.”

“I’m trying,” you said, tears had begun to leak from your eyes now. In part from fear of what had just happened but also out of frustration. You wished you could still yourself and be calm but it felt impossible.

“I hate this so much,” you said, fully putting your weight into Steve, leaning back as you broke out into harsh sobs.

“I know… shh, just breathe,” Steve said as he carefully wrapped his arms around you holding you protectively, as if guarding you from all of harms way. You let out another sob, your body wracking with each cry you let out. “Hey baby, no,” Steve said. “Don’t cry, you’re okay now, and so is our little girl, she’s just fine.”

“I’m so scared, Steve,” you angled your body a bit and turned into his chest, crying into his sleep shirt. “I keep blacking out, what if I hurt her?”

“You won’t,” Steve said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and stoking you softly. “Your body is doing everything it’s supposed to, honey. You’re keeping her safe in there,” he said, putting his large hand on your bump, holding it there encasing you both in comfort.

Somehow you were more at peace being in Steve’s embrace. He made everything better. Truly. You didn’t understand how you got so lucky to have him as your partner through all of this. Your pregnancy had not been an easy one so far but Steve was always at your side and would quite literally do anything to make you feel better.

You placed an tentative hand on your bump, immediately sighing in relief when you felt her begging to stir, sure enough kicking you in the ribs.

“Oh thank God,” you cried out, your body melting back into Steve now, the tension leaving your body all at once. Tears streamed down your face and you choked out a small laugh. “Feel her, Steve,” you said, grabbing his hand and placing it on your bump.

“There’s our girl,” Steve gleamed, obviously relieved as well. “See, she’s just fine in there.” You looked over at Steve to see his eyes gleaming and misty, rapidly blinked a few times and let out a deep exhale. “She’s okay, honey.”

At once your emotions got the best of you, thinking of how good Steve had been to you. He was so attentive to you, always easing your fears and worries. He was your biggest advocate and always took the time to make sure you and your daughter were okay. Always you before him. He was so amazing now you could hardly fathom what he would be like once she was actually born. Tears began to leak from you eyes again.

Steve took notice immediately. “Hey don’t cry, please honey, don’t cry,” he wiped a few tears from your face.

“I’m just so lucky to have you Steve,” you looked at each other for a few moment before Steve leaned forward, closing the gap between you with a gentle kiss.

“I’m lucky to have you,” Steve looked down to your bump then back to. “Both of you,” he said.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve Harrington x pregnant reader #dad!steve harrington #stranger things x reader

[train-wrecc]

Here For You

Marcus Baker x female!reader

word count: 4.5k 

warnings!: mentions of depression, anxiety, a panic attack, i think that’s all…

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Y/n knew Marcus could struggle with his depression and anxiety at times, so she tried her best to be there for him, whenever he needed her, she was right there.

She was always trying to remind him all the time of the love she had for him. To support him in his darkest times. 

From the simple things, like cuddling him until he finally felt something, to cooking him something and making sure he ate every last bite no matter how long it took him. She was there when the world just felt like too much for him. 

Marcus stared off into space, seemingly out of it. Y/n had been talking to the boy, he could see her lips forming the words, but couldn’t hear what they produced. All of a sudden it’s like every person walking past the pair had their eyes glued to him, staring at him. The murmuring of students talking amongst themselves somehow seemed to get louder. The squeaking of their beat-up sneakers meeting the shiny linoleum floor sounded at max volume. It’s as if all at once he was hearing everything and nothing at all. His heart seemed to ache, and clench, his throat feeling as if it was closing up, losing his ability to breathe in oxygen. His eyes clamped shut, hands flying to his ears trying to stop the loud chaotic noises which flowed through them. He took in deep gasps of air trying to regulate his breathing. “One, two, three, four, five.” He murmured, his face stuffed into his legs which he’d pulled toward his chest. 

“What’d you say?” Y/n turned to the boy, she had been ranting about family problems, as she looked into the distance. 

Her eyes were met with the boy huddled, panic radiating off of him in waves. How could she have not noticed he had been having a panic attack? “Oh god, Marcus, hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, look at me bub, okay?” She told him, her hands lifting his head to face her. Tears welled up in the boy's eyes, as he silently wished he could just disappear, as he continued to take deep shaky breaths in, the more he tried to regulate his breathing the more erratic his heartbeat got. 

Y/n brought her hands to Marcus' face, gently caressing his jaw in soothing circular motions. “Focus on me honey, everything’s gonna be okay.” She said calmly, nodding her head to him.  She gently grasped his hand, placing his hand against her wrist, “Squeeze my wrist, feel my heartbeat..” Her other hand moved to clasp the back of his neck. 

Marcus's breathing had somewhat slowed, however, it was still beating quite fast, “Bub, I want you to tell me five things you can see, okay?” 

The boy nodded quickly, “The- the lockers…, my-my shoes, that b-blue recycling bin, an old book …- on the floor, a p-poster.” He took a deep breath, stuttering out his answers, continually trying to calm himself.

“Good, okay, you’re doing great baby, now tell me four things you can feel,” She said his hand now being held in one of hers.

“I c-can feel the cold AC, the hard brick wall b-behind me, y-your… h-hand in mine, the material of m-my hoo-... hoodie.” He let out.

“I’m so proud of you, you’re amazing bub,” She responded placing a kiss on his hand, “Now give me 3 things you can hear, okay,” 

He inhaled a deep breath, before exhaling, “A locker being s-shut, laughing, and… m-music.”

“Good, you’re doing even better baby, now 2 things you can smell, okay,”

“Y-your perfume, and oranges…” He says, letting out a deep sigh.

“Now, 1 thing you can taste,”

“I can’t taste shit right now, Y/n/n” he lets out a laugh, burying his head into the crook of her neck. 

“Alright, alright,” She giggled, running her hands through his brown strands of hair.

Marcus let out another deep sigh, continuing to nuzzle his face deep into his girlfriend’s neck, taking in the scent of her comforting perfume, his breathing much less erratic. 

“Better?”

“Yeah..” He whispers, voice shaky still. 

The bell rang as the couple sat in the hall still, wrapped in their own little bubble, Y/n trying to protect Marcus from the world.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

However, it had come to the point where Y/n’s sole focus was Marcus and nothing else. Not herself, not her school work. She was so deeply in love with the boy, she’d truly do anything for him.

These past few weeks had been especially hard on both, Y/n and Marcus. It was the 1 year anniversary of Marcus's best friend's death. 

Marcus laid in bed most days, not having been to school for more than a week. Something as simple as brushing his teeth seemed to be too difficult of a task to do.

He felt completely and utterly alone no matter how much Y/n tried to hug him so tightly he’d feel her immense love for him.

Y/n hadn’t been feeling the best either, to be honest. Trying to be positive for Marcus all the time was draining her. Seeing him so depressed and lacking motivation seemed to be taking quite a toll on her, leaving her feeling useless, not being able to help her boyfriend, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

Most days she spent twisting and turning all night, exhausted but unable to sleep. Her mornings consisted of drinking coffee to give her some form of energy throughout the day and covering her under-eye bags with hefty amounts of concealer. 

Y/n sat at the lunch table, barely able to keep her eyes open. Continuously shutting them, then having to practically pry them open, “You alright, Y/n/n?” Abby questioned the girl which looked anything but alright.

“M’fine,” She responded, plastering a false smile on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Abby nodded in response, obviously not believing the girl. 

“How’s Marcus been doing?” The redhead decided to ask. 

“Not so good, I just wish there was something I could do to help him. It’s the worst he’s been in a while, and I try and try, but nothing seems to help,” She shakes her head in disappointment at herself.

“Maybe he just needs some space to heal on his own…?” 

“I don’t want him to think I don’t care about him anymore or, or worse, that I’ve stopped loving him because of some mental illness.” 

Abby nodded, saying nothing more, and just being there for her friend.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

By the end of the school day, Y/n wasn’t feeling too well but decided she’d stop by Bluefarm and get Marcus his favorite dish from the restaurant in another feeble attempt at trying to somewhat cheer the boy up, or at least motivate him to sit up and eat, he was skinny already, and had been getting thinner as the days went on.

Y/n opened the front door to the Baker household and walked in. She and Marcus had been dating for a little over a year, and most days she was at his house, which was basically a second home to her. 

Ellen had even given her a key. Y/n entered the house and is met with Max sprawled out on the couch in the living room, scrolling on her phone. 

“Hey, Max, any changes?”

“Nope, nada, zilch.” 

“I even offered to show him my old cringy TikTok’s. He didn’t even respond!” She shrugged.

She silently nodded, turning and rolling her eyes at the girl, like cringy TikTok’s were gonna magically cure her twin brother's crippling depression. At times Y/n felt bad for Marcus, him having to take the backseat all the time due to his sister always having to be the center of attention.

The girl made her way upstairs to check on Marcus. Walking in she was met with his mess of a room, and him lying in bed which had become his permanent spot as of recently.

“Hey bub, I brought you your favorite!” Y/n cheerily told the boy, slightly wiggling the bag at him.

The boy’s worn-out brown eyes burned into the wall behind her. The only response she received was him turning to face the opposite side of his bed, away from Y/n. She let out a quiet sigh, setting the food down on Marcus's side table. Her eyes glanced over the mess of the room, figuring she might as well try and clean up his room a little while she was there. 

Y/n began grabbing the clothes that were haphazardly thrown around the room, and placing them in the hamper. After she began grabbing all the trash in the room, which ranged from old soda cans to bags of chips which she didn’t even want to know how long they’d been there for. The trash made a noise as they fell into the trashcan causing Marcus to turn and look at what his girlfriend was doing. 

“What are you doing?” He questioned in a monotone voice, almost sounding like a statement rather than a question.

Y/n looked up, a smile growing on her face at the boy speaking. “Trying to tidy up your room for you, Y’know maybe it'll make you feel a little better, being in a clean space-” 

“Can you just not, Y/n… I don’t need you to clean my room for me, okay?” The girl silently nodded at the boy who seemed to be a little upset at her for trying to help him. 

“Did you hear when I said I got you Bluefarm?”

“Yes, I heard you the first time Y/n, I’m not deaf like my dad.” The boy said with a bite to his tone, even mustering the ability to roll his eyes at her. Marcus wasn’t exactly sure as to why he was acting like such a dick. Maybe it had to do with Y/n always being there, he didn’t have any space for himself. No time to deal with his depression by himself, and people always crowding him, pushing themselves onto him. He just needed time. It especially irritated him when Y/n did things like this, doing everything for him. He felt like a fucking useless baby. 

“Okay,” Y/n murmured quietly, pursing her lips.

“Well, uh, do you want me to get anything for you, water? Or-” 

“No, can you just stop Y/n, I- I don’t want your help okay? I’m not a fucking useless child, stop treating me like one. God, if I wanted you here, I would’ve texted you, okay? If -if I had wanted to talk to someone I would’ve called my fucking therapist, so can you just leave, okay, I don’t want you here. I just wanna be by myself for a little, but clearly, that’s too fucking much to ask of you.” He angrily spat at the girl. 

Y/n’s eyes widened more and more at each sentence that left the boy's mouth. She nodded, not knowing what to say. She turned before he could see the tears forming in her eyes, quickly running down the stairs and out of the house, without uttering a word to anyone. 

She slammed the door to her car, and it was as if it was a dam breaking. The salty tears streamed down her face, warming her cheeks. All she had wanted was to be there for him, help him. But he clearly didn’t want her help. She had gotten that now.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Y/n woke up the next morning her eyes swollen, and aching. She laid in bed, not going to school that day. She didn’t feel like dealing with anyone today. The night before she had come home a mess, still crying silently. Her parents immediately knew something had happened with Marcus, Y/n rarely cried like this, they had given her space and told her she could stay home for the next few days if she wanted. 

She let out a sigh, Marcus's words from last night still on repeat in her brain. She got up, slapping some water on her face, before going downstairs to her kitchen, wrapped up in the warmth of her comforter. She grabbed a pint of her favorite ice cream before settling on the couch in the living room, creating a nest for herself. She turned the TV on to watch Scooby-Doo in an attempt to take her mind off things. 

She had gotten a couple of texts from Abby, all asking why she wasn’t at school or where she was, however, she couldn’t be bothered to respond, shutting her phone off.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Y/n hadn’t been to school or visited Marcus in a few days, leaving Marcus to feel guilty for saying the cruel things he had. He did need space, but he shouldn’t have told her it the way he did. The space had left him missing Y/n, but it also made him realize how dependent he was on her, and her on him. After the weeks he’d spent bathing in this deep depression he finally felt a little better. His mind felt somewhat clear now, not as lost and muddled as before. He got up and took a shower, the first shower in a few days which he was sort of ashamed of. The shower was good for him, helping him feel better. He changed his bedsheets, before returning to his bed. He had gotten up, and showered, he figured that was more than enough progress in a day than he had made in a while. 

His phone dinged with a message from Abby, which read, “Hey, has Y/n been to visit you? She hasn’t been to school in a couple of days now. She’s not responding to my texts… whenever I go over her parents always tell me she’s sleeping. I’m worried about her.” 

Marcus wasn’t sure how to respond to the message, clearly, this had something to do with him going off on Y/n. “No, I kind of went off on her a few days ago. I didn’t mean to, I was just frustrated and took it out on her.” He typed.

Another text came in, “After everything she’s done for you, Marcus? Really? God, guys are so dumb. Did you apologize?”

“No… I know I need to but I just needed some space…” He sent.

“Well, now you’ve got it, huh.”

Abby was right, he was dumb. 

Marcus sighed, he knew he had to go apologize to Y/n however he just couldn’t bring himself to get out of his bed again. He had decided he’d go the next day and make things right.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Marcus had done it. He was out of his bed and stood on the steps of Y/n’s house. It was around the middle of the day, and he could see her parent’s cars were nowhere in sight, meaning Y/n was the only one home.

He rang the doorbell, expecting to hear footsteps, something, however, he was met with silence. He stood there for a few seconds, reaching up to ring the doorbell once again. And once again, silence. So, he rang the doorbell, again, again, again, and again. He knew Y/n was stubborn but so was he, and he wouldn’t leave until she at least answered the door. 

He heard feet stomping toward the door, finally, he thought. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” The girl practically ripped the door from its hinges, her voice dripping in anger and annoyance. When her eyes met his her eyes widened as did his. His beautiful girlfriend stood wrapped in a blanket, her hair a mess atop her head and eyes bloodshot red, lips chapped. The girl attempted to slam the door on him, but he stopped it with his foot in between the door and the frame.

“Bub, please.” He pleaded.

“You wanted space Marcus, I’m giving you space.” She responded, her voice slightly raspy. She pushed his foot out, closing the door, and trotted off angrily. Y/n knew technically she had no right to be angry at Marcus, but it was either that or feeling bad for herself, and she had enough of the latter. He wanted space, so he was gonna get it and maybe it’d be good for her as well.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Y/n had returned to school the day after, she hated getting behind on work. Marcus wasn’t anywhere to be seen. However, Y/n was surprised to see him at school the following day, immediately darting off in the opposite way of his direction. She ignored him like the plague.

Marcus had had enough space it had been almost a week of Y/n ignoring Marcus. He had tried everything to try and catch her at school to talk, but she always somehow managed to slip away from him. He figured she had needed space as well so he respected that, but he was tired of this. 

Marcus once again stood outside of Y/n’s house, this time he had a different approach, an approach he was quite used to using. The window, it never failed him. He had successfully climbed the tree by her window, attempting to pull the window. Which listened, being pulled up. Success, he thought. He stumbled into the girl's room, once a common occurrence. 

The girl looked up hearing the crash of something, pulling one of her headphones out, as she glanced up quickly before returning to her homework. Wait a minute- she looked up again, Marcus. 

A sigh escaped her lips, returning her headphone to her ear. Just ignore him, give him space, she thought to herself.

“Y/n please, are you seriously going to ignore me, when I’m standing right in front of you, talking to you.”

Silence.

He walked to her bed, and sat in front of her, as she continued to work on her homework. Reaching up to her ear, he pulled one of her earbuds out. 

“Marcus, stop it.” 

“Come on y/n/n, can we just talk, please.” He said, gesticulating as he spoke.

She snatched her earbud from him as he spoke, placing it back in her ear. 

“Are you serious right now?” He questioned.

Her eyes remained glued to her homework. This time he grabbed both of the earbuds, shoving them into his pocket. 

“Marcus, seriously, you’re beginning to piss me off.” She muttered through clenched teeth.

“Good at least I can get something out of you other than silence.” He replied. 

“Get out. I want you to leave.” Marcus sat there for a second, “Now, Marcus.” Her tone became slightly higher in pitch as she got angrier by the second. 

“Y/n-”

“I’m trying to give you the space you so desperately want Marcus.” She said, getting up and marching toward her bedroom door. 

“I’m-” 

“Marcus, leave before I shove you out the fucking window, or worse get my dad.” The words flew from her mouth harshly. 

He swallowed as she gripped the door knob. His eyebrows pulled together, unsure of what to do. 

“Pease, y/n/n,”

She turned to open the door, but before she could leave he pulled her against him, and into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He whispered to her.  

Y/n froze for a second, missing the feeling of his arms around her, but she broke out of those thoughts, shoving him off of her, “You don’t want to leave fine then, I’ll leave,” She said. She hastily made her way downstairs, Marcus, following behind her, no longer caring if her dad saw him. She walked past her parents in the living room, sliding her slippers on that were strewn by the front door, beginning to walk out and onto the driveway. It must’ve begun sprinkling while they had been in Y/n’s room, feeling small droplets falling on their skin.

“Y/n, where are you going!” 

“Away from you Marcus! Did it occur to you that maybe you’re not the only one who needs space!” She said walking into the street, she wasn’t sure where she was going, but she knew it was away from him. The boy that had hurt her deeply, after she tried and tried to help him. After she put him and his needs, and wants, before her very own. 

As she stomped away from the boy, rain began to pelt down harder. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry, okay! I’m an asshole! I don’t know what more you want from me!” He shouted over the rain.”That’s the problem, Marcus!” She shouted back, wiping her wet hair away from and out of her face. Marcus gazed at the girl, his eyebrows drawn in confusion.

“I- I love you, Marcus, so much!” She continued to yell over the rain, “I do everything and anything you want, to make you happy, to help you! But it’s like, you don’t even notice it, you don’t appreciate it! And fine, that’s okay, I can accept that because I love you! You ask for space, I give you space! I want space, and you can’t respect that! You- you climb through my window and invade my space! I would never speak to you again, Marcus, if that’s what you wanted, no matter how much it would pain me to do, I’d do it! I just- sometimes I think I love you too much for my own good! I love you more than I love myself! But, I don’t care! I just- I want to know that you love me, as much as I love you! That you truly missed me, my presence! Because, sometimes it feels like you don’t, Marcus!” She sniffled, her tears mixing with the rain, the pair shivering in the cold of the rain. 

Marcus remained quiet as he took in his girlfriend's words.

“I-” Y/n’s voice was shaky and raspy, “I know you struggle with your depression and anxiety, and I know that I’ll never know what that’s like, and If I could I would take all that away, so you wouldn’t have to go through all that, Marcus! Believe me, I would do it, in a heartbeat, but I can’t.. So I’m here! Here when you need me! Here when you want me! Here when you don’t need me! It’s draining, Marcus! I’m- I’m so tired! This most recent state of yours, I couldn’t sleep because I was so worried about you! Because I always put myself before you! And it’s not your fault, I don’t want you to think that this is on you or your depression, because it’s not, it’s me! I can’t stop loving you! I- I can’t stop needing you! I can’t stop being there for you! I don’t even know who I am without you! I’m- I’m nothing… without you!” Y/n sobbed, her hands clasped against her head, frustrated with herself, teeth beginning to chatter.

Marcus couldn’t tell if the droplets on his face, were from tears or the rain, or both.

“Maybe, maybe, we’re not meant to be together Marcus, because this… it’s not healthy. I didn’t want to admit it but… I depend on you too much. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last before I fall asleep. You deserve someone, someone who’s not so clingy. Someone who can truly help you through your depression, who can help you stay afloat. Someone better than me.” Y/n spoke, her throat beginning to ache from all the shouting over the rain. 

Marcus walked toward the girl, grasping her face in his hands, “I love you, Y/n. I love you with every fiber in my being, I- I would do anything for you, trust me. You don’t know how much you mean to me. And I’m- I’m so sorry I never showed you how much you mean to me, how much I appreciate you. I- I depend on you maybe even more than you depend on me because you’re right. You’re always there for me, and I love you so much for that. You hear me Y/n, I love you, so fucking much, and I’d be lost without you. I’m sorry I didn’t notice how exhausted you’ve been. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I’m sorry for not showing you how much I appreciate you, love you, missed you. You’re the one who deserves so much more Y/n. Because you are more than enough for me, you could have had any guy you wanted, but you chose me. I’m so grateful for that, and I’ll start showing you more, I promise.” He said caressing her face in his hands, as she sniffled.

“I love you, Y/n, and I swear to god, if you give me another chance, I’ll do better, I promise. Please, please don’t give up on us.” His voice broke, “ I know we may not have the most healthy relationship, but I don’t care. I love you, you love me, that’s all that matters. We can fix this, and continue to grow together and separately and still be together, please bub. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that, I will never, never do that again. I’ll talk to you more about how I’m feeling, I’ll start seeing my therapist more often, I’ll do anything.” Marcus cried as the rain continued to pour down.

Y/n nodded, sniffles still coming from the girl. 

Marcus pulled her into a tight hug, almost squeezing the life out of her, Y/n returning the tight embrace, clinging to him. Tears silently streamed down both their faces. The pair stood in silence under the rain which had slowed to a light drizzle. Marcus pulled away from the embrace after a few minutes. He gazed into Y/n’s eyes, which he loved so much and that returned the same fond gaze before pulling her into a kiss. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d kissed, let alone a kiss like this one filled with love and fervor. As the couple pulled away from the kiss gently, eyes catching a rainbow in the distance.

“I love you, Marcus Baker.” Y/n sniffled.

“I love you more, Y/n Y/l/n.” He grinned at the girl in his arms.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N- I don’t really know how to feel about this… but anyways I probably didn’t depict depression properly because I don’t know what it’s like. But I hope I did somewhat okay? Also that anxiety thing, I just know that wouldn’t do shit for me. When I have panic attacks they just gotta happen and somehow I just eventually calm down, idk 😂

I don’t know why the ending keeps getting like cut off by tumblr somehow 😭

#marcusbakerfic #netflix ginny and georgia #ginny and marcus #ginny miller #marcus baker x reader #marcus baker #ginny x marcus #marcusbakerblurb #ginny and georgia #xreader #oneshot #imagine #netflix #maxine baker #georgia miller #austin miller #fanfiction #train-wreccmasterlist #twmasterlist #imagines #felix mallard #felixmallardxreader #love #fluff and feels #angst to fluff #angst fic #marcus baker x y/n #marcus baker x you

[rachalixie]

3racha reactions | to you having a panic attack

a/n: for @moonacholy’s request for 3racha reaction to panic/anxiety attacks! this is based off of my own experience with panic/anxiety attacks, as well as my clinical experiences with panic attacks. everyone experiences anxiety and panic differently, so if this doesn’t apply to you there is nothing wrong with that! i tried not to go into too much detail of the actual attack, but rather the aftermath.

warnings: anxiety, panic attack

chan

your breathing comes out in quick bursts, ragged icy cold air pulling in and rushing out before you can fill even a third of your lungs. your vision blurs around the edges as your eyes flicker around, taking in the beady eyes of everyone in the room looking at you with judgment swirling around their heads.

a hand takes your wrist gently, and you almost snatch it away before chan’s face swims into your vision and you realize that its his fingers wrapping around your skin. let’s get out of here, he mouths. or did he speak? you can’t hear anything other than the blood rushing through your ears and the air crackling in and out of your throat. he takes you out of the room, pulling you gently and pausing when you stumble over your feet.

he walks you to your car, helping you into the backseat before jogging around and sitting next to you. he takes your hands in his, squeezing gently when you take in a particularly sharp breath.

“okay, breath with me, it’s okay,” he says, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slow. “in when i squeeze, out when i let go, okay?”

you nod, trying to take in a full breath when he squeezes your hands, letting it out in staccato bursts before he lets go. god, why can’t you even do this right?

“you’re doing great, sweetheart,” he says, velvet voice soothing your racing thoughts and the petname washing over you like a comforting blanket. he squeezes again, and your breath comes in easier, not quite full but exhaling smoother than before when he lets go. he repeats this several times, each breath coming in and out easier and easier as he breathes with you, your heartbeat slowing as your body calms down.

your body feels slow as syrup by the time he lets go of your hands, and you whine a bit as you slump into the seat. he clicks his tongue, moving you so you’re resting against him instead, your head buried into his neck. he knows how tired you get after you get these attacks.

“take a nap, sweetie. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

—

changbin

your heart is beating so fast you think it’s going to climb up your neck and out of your mouth. it’s vibrating your entire body, each pulse feeling like a drum beating over your head, the weight of it crushing. you feel like you’re going to get beaten down to the floor until you melt into it, helpless. you can’t remember what it was like before, has your heart always been beating like this? has your breath always felt stuck in your throat the way it is now? your eyes are blurred with tears, you have no control over yourself, and it’s horrible.

“eyes on me, love,” changbin says, breaking you out of your thoughts. he’s tilting up your head so your eyes could meet his, stars of love swimming in them. “good, there you go. just look at me, i’m here, im not going anywhere, okay?”

you nod frantically, clasping both hands around one of his, not looking away from his eyes for a second in fear of drowning without him. your heart is still beating rapidly, but now you have his fingers on your wrist showing you that you aren’t going crazy. there’s someone else here. you aren’t alone.

his other hand snakes around you to rub at your back, tiny grounding circles that you put your entire focus into. before you can notice, your heartbeat is slowing and your breath is trembling past your lips. his eyes never leave yours, your tears blurring his face but his features recognizable nonetheless. he untangles your fingers from his hand where they had been white-knuckled as you clenched them, and uses the pads of his fingers to wipe away the tears on your cheeks.

once you feel like your world isn’t ending, you let out a deep breath and bury your face into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing tight. he squeezes you back, not too tight since he knows his strength, and you melt into him.

“you’re okay, my love,” he murmurs into your neck.

“i’m always okay with you.”

—

jisung

you’re looking down at your hands, taking in how they’re trembling as a shaky breath leaves your mouth. you clench them into fists, twisting your lips into a frown when your weak fingers don’t tighten. you try to dig your nails into your palm to feel that spark of pain that usually grounds you, but your blunt nails feel numb against your skin. tears of frustration leak down your hot cheeks as the feelings of anxiety overwhelm you. your hands are shaking, your knees are trembling, even your teeth feel wrong. you feel like you’re going to collapse, you might actually have collapsed if it weren’t for the fact that you were already sitting down.

you’re shocked out of your spiraling thoughts when you feel an intense cold in your hand, and you gasp in a breath. you look down to see jisung’s hand pressing an ice cube into your hand. the ice is already melting into your hot palm, cool water dripping down the cracks of between your fingers, making you whine a bit. you take in another sharp breath as he presses another one into your other hand and he wraps his fingers around yours, securing the ice inside.

“i know its scary,” he says, hands squeezing yours for a moment. “it’s going to go away, you know that. just ride it out, its going to be okay.”

you focus on the cold, how it stings a bit but soothes just a bit more, how the water dripping down your hand distracts you and how the droplets hitting the ground between your feet start to mirror your heartbeat. you can’t feel the trembling with his hands around yours like this, it’s like he’s absorbing all the bad and replacing it with his good.

you try to talk, to tell him what happened and why you feel like this, but the words get lodged into your throat and won’t come out. he notices, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

“don’t talk, baby. we have plenty of time to talk later. right now i just want you comfortable.”

masterlist

—

psych fact on how to help with anxiety/panic: deep breathing actually helps. i know it’s like the first thing that people say to do and its hard to do and it feels redundant, but there is actually a biological component to how breathing helps! when we breathe normally, we only use about half of our lungs, but if you breathe really deep (using all of your lungs until you feel it in your belly) it helps to set off your parasympathetic nervous system (PNS). your PNS is the part of your body that regulates things like your breath and heart rate and sweating, the more physical symptoms of anxiety. so when you breathe really deep, it helps your body know that it needs to calm down. (i am getting my doctorate in psychology so i promise im not just saying shit to say shit!!)

taglist (message me to be added/removed!): @daceyena @isilentprincess @woahfruity @chvnnie @katieraven @agustd-essert @chanssmiles @sweetestcherrywine @foivetimesacharm @sstarryoong @bakugossanity

#stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x gender neutral reader

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: angst

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

jaybird :,( I’m breaking my own heart over here

part twenty-three

❝ BOILING ❞

FRIDAY — AUGUST 14 — 9:17AM

TIM WAS SICK.

Like, really sick.

He was the first of the downed three to wake, four hours after he collapsed, just to catapult directly into another hour-thirty-three minute anxiety attack that no amount of consoling could stop. Bentley simply sat with Dick while Bruce tried everything in the book to help him. Jason’s periodic screaming only seemed to make it worse and worse until Alfred decided it would be best to give Tim some sedatives.

When he woke up three hours after that, he threw up all over Bruce.

Now, on Friday morning, Tim had been bedridden and sporting a fever over one-hundred for nearly three days. Dick, Bruce, and Alfred had been going in and out of the cave, taking turns, but never leaving the trio in the medbay without a caretaker.

Jason, who was hooked up to a myriad of drips and machines, was still fighting like hell. He had been for the entire three days — screaming, thrashing, throwing himself around so violently the hospital bed had to be moved back to it's original spot a couple of times. The noise didn’t seem to bother Tim or Damian, who were both unresponsive and varying degrees of out of it. Damian was more or less catatonic, completely unresponsive to outside sound or touch, while Tim was… sort of delirious. The Secret Keeper hadn’t seemed to take hold of him, at least not for very long, but an absolutely raging fever had. Dick already had to talk him out of trying to patrol as Robin. Not Red Robin, but Robin, Batman’s sidekick, and the conversation ended with tears on Tim’s part. But at least he could wake up, even if he was just living in a fever-dream.

Bentley, for the past three days, had just sort of been… floating around. Bruce and Cass had to clear the Manor three more times before he as much as thought about going upstairs. And even then, he refused to be alone when he went. He’d slept with Dick the first night back upstairs, and Duke the second. Most of his time was spent in the cave, since there was always guaranteed to be someone down there. He hadn’t as much as checked his phone since this all started — which probably meant Asten and Nico thought he was dead. Not that he cared enough to go find the device anyways.

Instead, he abandoned Duke’s room on Friday morning and went down to the cave instead, where he knew he’d find Dick. Just last night, he and Alfred had manhandled Bruce into getting some rest, and the Butler was on babysitting duty to make sure he actually did. As far as Bentley could assume, Dick was the only (conscious) one that was down there.

As soon as he started down the stairs that led to the cave in Tim’s old Wonder Woman pajamas, he could hear Jason screaming. A sound he’d become accustomed to, as twisted as that sounded. 

It was different this time, though. As opposed to the undistinguishable wails that had been erupting out of him for three days straight, now, there were words. Screamed with such a rage, a desperation, a terror that Bentley very nearly hauled himself straight back up the stairs at the sound of it.

“Get away! Get away! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” 

There was the clacking of the bed again, that signaled that he was thrashing. 

And then a second voice came, laced with something thick, like they were speaking through molasses: “It’s okay, Little Wing. You’re in the cave. You’re okay.”

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

Bentley’s socked feet padded onto the hard floor of the cave, and he peered inside, just far enough to see Dick close at Jason’s bedside in the medbay.

Jason was trying his hardest to wrench himself out of the leather straps, throwing himself around, eyes still closed. The drips and tubes that were attached to him kept getting carefully moved by Dick when he would get them tangled or  almost knock them over. Based on what Bentley could see, the thrashing wasn’t as violent as it had been — he was probably wearing himself out.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you…”

“I’m right here, Jay. You’re okay,”

Tim and Damian were both just… laying there. Damian, stiff as a board, not doing anything but breathing. Tim shifted around to get more comfortable every so often. There was a bowl of water and a rag on his bedside table, as well as a strategically placed red bucket in the floor that looked like where he was supposed to aim if he puked again. 

Bentley wasn’t sure how long Jason had been screaming empty threats across the cave, but he assumed he was arriving at the tail end of it. Because just as quickly as Jason had thrashed and screamed, now, he was starting to cry.

Bentley had never seen Jason Todd cry.

He just stood, watching in silence as the thrashing died down and Jason futilely tried to tug his limbs free from the restraints, trying his hardest to curl into himself even though he couldn’t. “B! Batman! Batman!” He sobbed.

Bentley took a deep breath at the same time Dick did. The sound of his shouting changed again, this one more like a child in terror. 

Dick dared to reach forward and brush Jason’s white streak away from his face. “Hey, hey, hey, Jaybird, you’re okay-“

“Batman! Bat- Bat- Bruce! Bruce!”

Bentley inched farther into the room. What was Jason seeing? What was he seeing that scared him so much he was screaming for Bruce?

“B! Bruce! Bruce!” He kept on and on like a broken record, moving his head from side to side, expression heavy with something like hopelessness. He seemed to be losing his energy, his words becoming slurred and quieter, his movements slowing. “Bruce! Bruce… please… Dad…”

Dick kept on brushing Jason’s hair back, even though Bentley could nearly see how tense he was becoming. “You’re not alone, Jason.”

“I don’t want to die… Dad… I don’t want to die…”

Bentley’s heart sank into his toes. Was this how Jason died when he was just a teenager? Screaming for Bruce by name? Screaming for his dad?

Was the Secret Keeper making him relive his death?

“Dad!” The last shout before Jason fell limp was loud, desperate, nearly inhuman. Like a war cry at the end of a battle he knew he was losing.

The loud scream jostled Tim out of his not-so-peaceful slumber, which he announced his exit from with a loud groan: “M’ gonna hurl.”

Bentley decided that he should probably stop just standing there and make himself useful. So he pitter-pattered into the medbay as quickly as he could, fetching the red barf bucket off the floor (ew.) and bringing it up to the edge of the bed. Tim promptly retched into it, and Bentley busied himself by glancing back at Dick, praying Tim wouldn’t throw up on his hands.

Dick’s chair was empty.

Which was fine. He couldn’t have gone far, all Bentley had done was grab a barf bucket off the floor. Surely he’d be back soon.

Bentley looked back at Tim when he heard him flop back down on the bed with another groan. At least he seemed… here, Bentley guessed. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. Stupid question, considering that Tim, who already didn’t eat enough, had just barfed his organs out into a bucket that Bentley was just standing there holding. He scrunched his face up at the realization and put it back on the floor. Tim’s heart monitor was beeping quickly, but not too fast, he guessed. The temperature gauge screen off to the side read 104.8.

Tim’s red, icy eyes landed on Bentley, and sweat gleamed on his skin as he turned his head toward him. His black hair was hanging down in his eyes, but he didn’t seem to care. He looked at him with a strange blankness. “Of course I’m okay, kid. I’m Robin, I have to be okay.”

Oh. So this was how it was going to go. Maybe Tim wasn’t as here as Bentley thought.

Tim’s eyes widened for a split second. “I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”

Bentley blinked. Where was Dick when he needed him? A quick glance back revealed that his chair was still vacant.

Bentley startled when Tim brought his hands up, whacking himself in the face. “B’s gonna kill me for telling you that!”

“Uh… I… you’re… Red Robin, Tim. Not Robin,”

Tim uncovered his eyes, and they narrowed into slits as he glared coldly at Bentley. “I am Robin.” He said, like he hadn’t just hit himself for saying that three seconds ago.

Okay, don’t argue with someone who’s delirious, Bentley reminded himself. “I… I know you’re Robin. It’s okay. Bruce told me.”

Tim scoured Bentley’s face for a solid ten seconds with his eyes, but then seemed satisfied with that answer, turning over to shove his face in his pillow. “I feel like death.”

“Yeah… your fevers really high,” Bentley replied, glancing at the numbers on the screen. 

“I have to go to school. I have a seminar,” Said Tim Drake, who graduated, like, two years ago.

“You’re.. really sick. I think you should stay home,” Bentley suggested.

“You’re kicking me off of patrol?!” Okay, so we’re back to being Robin. “I can patrol with a fever, I’ve done it plenty!”

Bentley glanced around, desperately wishing Dick would come back from wherever he was. “You should sleep, Tim.”

“I can’t sleep,” He murmured into the pillow. “Dying instead.”

Tim was very… dramatic… when he was delirious.

Bentley sighed deeply. “You’re just sick. Not dying.”

“I am dying, I have no spleen,” He murmured. Bentley wasn’t even sure what a spleen was, nor how it contributed to him dying. 

“You’re not dying,” He replied. “Bruce and Alfred are taking good care of you.”

Tim groaned again, and after a few minutes of quiet, moved around and then went still, his eyes fluttering closed. Bentley sighed. At least he hadn’t had to physically put Tim back in the bed like Dick had.

Bruce had said the sickness was caused by the extreme stress and anxiety Tim was in, and that it had happened once before, when Tim was Robin. Bentley hadn’t known that stress and anxiety could make someone sick. But he guessed it made sense, since he used to throw up sometimes when his dad would scare him really bad.

With a soft sigh, he pulled the blankets back up over Tim’s shivering frame, sending a glance behind him to Jason. He was just laying there, limp. His heart monitor kept speeding up and slowing down ever so slightly, like he was dreaming. Damian still hadn’t moved.

And someone was crying.

Bentley whirled around and looked down at Tim, whose eyes were still closed and features were still peaceful. It wasn’t coming from the medbay, it was outside of the medbay, somewhere else in the cave.

Bentley pushed himself forward slowly, pausing when he came to the medbay door to scan the rest of the cave. 

Dick was at the Batcomputer, but the screen wasn’t on. He was just kind of standing there, one hand firmly planted on the desk to support his weight, the other hand clasped over his eyes.

He was the one crying.

The Secret Keeper really knew how to tear a family apart, didn’t she?

Bentley moved forward, out of the medbay, but Dick didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t seem to notice Bentley’s presence in the slightest until the child plastered himself against his back, hugging tightly around his waist with no reproach.

And Dick lost it.

He sobbed and choked and gasped for air until he couldn’t as much as stand anymore, and he had to crouch down to avoid falling over. Bentley moved, then, from his back to his front, synching his arms around his neck with a grip he didn’t even think Batman could break. And they stayed like that for at least ten minutes before Dick had the willpower to hug him back, shoving his face into the shoulder of Tim’s old Wonder Woman pajamas and letting out a lifetime of tears there. Bentley didn’t mind, although it was getting increasingly difficult for him to fight away the burn behind his own eyes. He just did what he knew best, what always helped him — he moved his fingers through the black waves on the back of Dick’s head.

“I hate this,” Dick admitted quietly. “I can’t handle it, Babybird.”

Bentley was so preoccupied that he didn’t even notice that the hopelessness he felt only a few days prior was slowly bubbling into rage.

—

“-herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighborhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behavior was most friendly and ob… obli… oblig-“

“Obliging,” Alfred corrected softly.

“Obliging,” Bentley repeated, sending a glance up to Jason, like his unconscious form would mind that Bentley messed up the words to his favorite book.

Dick had been officially banned from the cave for a while after Alfred found he and Bentley in a heap on the floor. Now, the oldest Wayne son was upstairs with Bruce, who was probably doing a way better job at comforting him than Bentley ever could.

In order to not be useless, Bentley had taken it upon himself to fill the quiet in the medbay that Dick had left in his absence. The solution — read Jason’s favorite book to him (and everyone else, because they didn’t really have a choice.)

Pride and Prejudice was a weird book. Bentley really wasn’t sure why Jason liked it so much — he’d been reading for about an hour and understood a solid none. Everyone talked weird (including the narrator) and there was an abundance of big and strange words that Bentley had to struggle through until Alfred realized what he was trying to say.

Jason and Damian hadn’t moved since Dick had left. Damian hadn’t moved at all, actually, since he stopped curling his fists a few days prior. Jason seemed to have tired himself out, because he, too, had fallen unresponsive, covered with a thick layer of sweat. His heart rate spiked every now and then, but he didn’t move or make sounds like he had been.

Tim had thrown up twice more and was now sporting a fever of a hundred and five, which seemed concerning, but Alfred had it handled (or was playing it very cool). Tim had gone from kind of funny and delirious to terrifyingly bedridden and unable to hold any kind of conversation. He, too, was pouring sweat from his entire body. It seemed like he was trying hard to fight off the sickness — and Bentley wasn’t sure if he was winning or not.

“Are they going to be okay?” Were the next words that came out of Bentley’s mouth, definitely not from the pages of Jason’s old book.

Alfred looked up from what he was doing on the other end of the room. He seemed to be preparing a new drip for someone. “All in due time, my boy.”

Bentley’s eyes traveled across the trio of beds he was sitting between, bouncing from one incapacitated Wayne’s face to the next. “And Tim?”

Alfred’s gray irises followed Bentley’s gaze to Tim’s fever-flushed face. “Master Tim is as resilient as they come; they will all be on the road to recovery before you know it.”

Bentley said nothing, just looked down at the pages of the book in his hand. 

After a few moments of silence, a pair of footsteps from the other end of the cave caught Bentley’s attention. He looked up, at the door, and Bruce was standing in it.

“Hey there, chum,” He said, his dull gray eyes flicking between the trio of beds, then drifting to the book in Bentley’s hands. “Hosting a book club?”

Bentley shrugged. “Well, they can't really say no.”

They fell into a stiff silence that was only broken when Bruce beckoned Bentley with his hand. “C’mere. I want to get your opinion on something.” 

Bentley glanced back at Jason, laying Pride and Prejudice on the bedside table next to him. Then he followed Bruce out of the room.

He was escorted across the cave into a room he’d never been in before. It seemed to hold all of the vigilantes' extra suits and weapons. The most notable of which were Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian’s old Robin suits displayed in glass cases, (maybe not the original things, since Jason had been killed in his, and there’s no good way to get bomb out of a suit.) as well as a Batman suit that looked the slightest bit different from Bruce’s. Maybe from when Dick was Batman?

Bruce, instead of heading for those, strolled over to a large table with a myriad of folded suits on top, including his and Damian’s current suits, and a few ones Bentley didn’t recognize. The child watched in silence as Bruce grabbed a neatly folded black suit from the surface. He carefully unfolded it and held it up, and Bentley might’ve been confused if it weren’t for the large, unmistakable R on the shoulder.

It was a new Robin suit. Instead of bright primary colors, the base suit was black and dark gray, with minimal, tastefully-done blood-red detailing. The cape was black on the outside, but the classic Robin yellow on the inside. 

“I’ve been working on something that better suits Damian, but I’m stumped on the cape. I have several more—“ Bentley watched as Bruce pulled out a solid yellow cape (like Dick and Jason’s old ones.) from one of the desk drawers, along with a black one with red on the inside. “— which do you think?”

Bentley glanced between the trio of capes. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on — maybe Bruce was trying to distract him? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t really mind, either. He had been reading Pride and Prejudice for way too long anyways.

Bentley hummed lightly. Damian would probably like a black one, just because they were discreet and not as easily noticed. And the nod to the previous Robins seemed like something he would appreciate.

Bentley pointed subtly at the black and yellow one. “I think that one.”

Not that he knew Damian that well anymore.

Bruce nodded, folding everything back up and setting it down neatly. For a few moments, they just stood in silence, neither speaking, neither moving to leave. 

“Bentley,” Bruce started, eyes trailing across the table. “I have a question to ask. If you don’t have an answer for me, that’s okay… you don’t have to.”

Bentley breathed in deep, fiddling with the hem of one of his sleeves. “Okay…”

“Your father… has requested to see you,” Bruce said slowly, with a soft sigh and a wipe to his brow. He looked up at Bentley, and his blue-gray eyes stayed trained on the child, calculating.

It suddenly got very, very hot in the cave.

Bentley’s dad wanted to see him? To talk to him? To take him back? Tim and Damian already didn’t want him there, had they told Bruce that? Would Bruce really just give him back? Was it even legal for his dad to see him after he tried to kill him?!

Bentley shook his head so quickly he got kind of dizzy. “No. No, please, Bruce, please don’t make me…” 

Bruce was reaching for him. “Bentley-“

Bentley flinched away from his hands. “Please. Please, please, please, don’t make me. I don’t want him to take me away, I-I want to stay with you, Bruce, please-“

“Bentley, Bentley, hey-” The child flinched when Bruce’s hand landed on the side of his head. “-you don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything.”

Bentley sniffled. When had he started crying? He was a wreck. An absolute wreck. How was he going to destroy the Secret Keeper when he was constantly one statement, one memory, one thought away from breaking down?

“I wanna stay with you…” He trailed off, wiping at his eyes. Bruce ran a hand over Bentley’s head with a look somewhat reminiscent of Dick. “Please don’t get rid of me, Bruce, I’ll be better. I promise-“

“Hey, hey,” He said softly, bending down just far enough to pick Bentley up off the floor. The child didn’t argue, merely slinking his arms up and around Bruce’s neck in return. “I would never, ever get rid of you, Bentley. Never.”

Bentley clung ever-tighter to him, batting away the tears in his eyes and resting his head on his shoulder.

Bruce rested a hand on the back of Bentley’s head. “I love you, chum.”

Bentley’s eyes went wide, and he was sure his breathing stopped. The only person that’d ever said that to him was Dick.

Bentley cried.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod @skylathescholar

#batboys #batfamily #batman #oc; bentley #oc; bentley whittaker #mb; a hundred ways to become a wayne #ov; secret keeper #ov; the secret keeper #oc; asten #oc; asten evans #oc; nico #oc; niko rockefeller #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #cassandra cain #orphan #tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #spoiler #duke thomas #signal #damian wayne #damian al ghul

[beewolfwrites]

The Weight of Guilt

Request: 

I feel like there’s some serious childhood trauma in Chishiya’s past and would love a story where he gets triggered by something which causes a panic attack and his girlfriend try’s to help but it’s difficult because he doesn’t feel he deserves help or has never had help before??

Chishiya x OC/Fem!Reader (The girlfriend could be either really, she wasn’t given a name)

Here guys, have a one-shot because why not! Bear in mind, when I was writing this, I figured that Chishiya doesn’t seem like the kind of character to have a full-blown chaotic panic attack. He seems more like someone who would be very still and quiet until it goes away. 

(Also Beware! This is very loosely proofed. Some of you all know how bad my proofing can be)

__________________________________________________

Well, this had never happened before. Nor had he ever expected it to. 

A simple medical supply run had taken him straight back to the very hospital he had been itching to escape from prior to the Borderlands. And while his companion had disappeared into the musty wards in search of bandages, antibiotics and morphine, Chishiya took the opportunity to pay a little visit to his old unit.

It was fascinating in a way. The operating theatres were dark inside and hauntingly devoid of life. Recovery was just the same. The beds were all empty, as expected, but the patient charts were still attached to the end of each one. Naturally, he wandered down the corridors into the very ward he had been stationed in that day, right before the world disappeared. 

He traced each bed, noting how the bedside tables were covered in small mementos, flowers and gifts from family and friends. All relics of a world long gone. 

‘Chishiya?’ 

His companion’s voice sounded in the distance, but he barely heard it. 

He barely heard it because he realised that he was standing before that bed. The sheets were dusty, but a familiar plastic dinosaur was on the bedside table and a vase of carnations had dried to a crisp. 

‘Chishiya?’

That voice again. The sound was drowned out by a surging sensation throughout his body, a strange gushing in his chest. His fingers felt almost detached from his hands, like those of a marionette. He clenched and unclenched them, yet he felt nothing. 

He felt nothing back then too. When they handed him a manila envelope and rearranged the priority list for heart transplants, Chishiya had felt nothing. Even when they had wheeled the boy’s body to the morgue in the basement, his mother still in the ward, clutching her chest as she howled, he had felt nothing but acceptance. 

So why now? That was the question. 

And why now, of all times, did his head feel underwater? Why was his throat constricted, as though there was a tight band wrapped around it? Why did his tongue feel larger than usual in his dry mouth, swollen enough to restrict his airways?  

And that strange gushing sensation had only grown stronger, fuelling him with the urge to run away. And yet he couldn’t move himself from the bedside. 

Why couldn’t he move? 

‘Chishiya?’ 

She was right behind him now, in the doorway of the ward. Her footsteps clacked against the floor, growing uncomfortably loud, and a hand touched his shoulder. He didn’t have the energy to shrug it away. 

‘Are you okay?’ 

Normal. He had to appear normal. ‘I’m fine.’ 

‘Don’t lie to me,’ she said quickly. 

‘And why exactly would I do that?’ 

‘Don’t try to distract me either.’ She moved around him, checking him over. ‘You don’t seem okay.’ 

She was trying to read him, something that he disliked intensely. He didn’t want her to see this part of him. He had never told her about the things he did before they came here. If he did, surely she wouldn’t stick around. 

But would she still stick around now? After this? 

He knew exactly what he was experiencing. The DSM-5 had been sitting on his desk for months after he had completed two modules in advanced neuroscience. He understood the symptoms of an anxiety-provoked fight or flight reaction… on paper at least. But he had never truly understood it until now. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets, forcing himself to move away from her. ‘I told you, I’m fine.’ 

In truth, his head was swimming and he had to lean against the railing of the bed for support. But she didn’t need to know that. Nobody could see this kind of weakness, not even her. 

‘Chishiya,’ she stepped towards him again. ‘You… you’re tilting. Just—please just sit down with me, okay? You look like you’re going to faint.’ 

‘I’m not going to—‘

‘Please.’ 

He looked at her properly, although it was difficult to focus on the softness of her features, pinched in concern, when everything felt so watery and distant. All he needed was these symptoms to go away. Though he knew he wasn’t in any danger, and this was just his body’s reaction, there was no way he could logic himself out of it. Perhaps distraction was the answer. 

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But we’re just wasting time.’ 

‘The supplies aren’t going anywhere. They can wait.’ 

She sat down on the bed — that bed — and patted the space next to him. He looked at it for a long moment, knowing that if he didn’t sit beside her, she would immediately realise why. So, whilst the thought appalled him, he took a seat on the soft mattress. 

She sighed, smiling. ‘You should have told me this was your hospital. I had a feeling when we walked in.’ 

He didn’t reply. All he could do was focus on a spot on the vinyl floor in hopes that it would somehow make these irksome sensations disappear. 

‘I’m guessing this is where you did your clinical rotations, right?’ She paid no mind to his lack of response. ‘You know, when I was a kid I ended up in a place just like this. I was pretty sick for a while, and it wasn’t looking too good. There was an intern there. He wasn’t my actual doctor, but he was shadowing.’ 

‘Oh really…’ 

It was the only reply Chishiya could muster. 

‘Yeah, even though he was an intern he must have been a mature student because he had a pretty impressive moustache. He used to style it in all these weird ways, just to make the kids laugh.’ 

She chuckled a little, lost in her own memory.  ‘I thought it was funny at the time.’ 

‘You would,’ Chishiya muttered. 

‘Hey!’ She lightly pushed her shoulder into his, careful not to actually shove him. 

Despite the fact that he was only half listening, her story was giving him something to focus on. His tongue still felt swollen, and the band around his throat was as tight as ever. But that strange gushing sensation had quietened, and somehow just anchoring himself on the bed helped ease his lightheadedness. 

‘Looking back now,’ she continued, ‘he’s probably an amazing paediatrician. I didn’t realise it at the time, but there were some kids there who were dying. He did what he could for them, even if it wasn’t much.’ 

Was she trying to make him feel better or worse? It wasn’t clear. He would much rather face the humiliation of dying in an Ace of Diamonds game before growing out his facial hair and styling it like a clown just to please some children. Was that why he felt this way? Because deep down, although he was just a medical student, and although death came with the job, Chishiya knew that some deaths were preventable. 

And yet, he had stood there, watching passively as they wheeled the boy’s body away. 

‘Look,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, or what caused this — and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to — but if you ever do want to, I’m here.’ 

Chishiya swallowed, unable to meet her gaze. 

‘I get that you like to keep your old life pretty private, and that’s fine. But I just need you to know that no matter what happened in the past, I’ll listen. I’m always here to listen.’ 

He couldn’t speak, simply because he didn’t know what to say. And if she knew what he had done… 

It wasn’t the time for a conversation like that. 

Maybe one day he would take her up on the offer. But right now, her words alone were enough to quench the dryness of his mouth and the tightness of his throat. A weight lifted from deep within his chest, and the world that had seemed so blurry only minutes before was now just within reach. 

#alice in borderland #aib #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #Chishiya x reader #chishiya x oc

[everythingseasoning]

We’ve Met Before, pt 2

// Reader x Choso fanfiction

…Little do you know that you and Choso were lovers in a past life.

CH 2: Nobara’s friend, Yuji Itadori, has been missing, and you realize it might be connected to the latest string of murders around Tokyo. Meanwhile, your lying, cheating ex Sukuna, is running around freely, and trying to disrupt any semblance of you finding love in your life.

Tags: This fic has CURSES and SORCERERS, but the characters are also students at JUJUTSU UNIVERSITY // ~1.2k

Warnings: Power dynamics, mentions of possible assault, blood & canon violence

WMB Masterlist || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 ||

Your head pounds as you blink bleary-eyed. Transparent red curtains flutter above your head, a cool breeze passes through and you shiver, soft winter sunlight hitting your skin. Your heart sinks quickly; This is Sukuna’s room.

That familiar lilting, deep and rumbly voice sounds like music in the room, “Hey sweetheart, you’re finally up. Did you miss me?”

You feel your anxiety rush through your blood as you fling off his black blanket— relieved to see you’re still in the same clothes as last night— and you jump off from his bed, landing on your feet.

“What the hell am I doing here?” You hiss, eyeing the door. The worst thoughts fly through your head— Did he drug you while you were asleep? Did he touch you? Why did you wake up here? What happened last night? Your head feels too fuzzy, and you’re scared.

Sukuna just stares lazily at you and smiles, unspeaking, as he files his dark purple nails.

“Sukuna!” You screech— eyes frenzied— and somewhere deep down, you realize just how much control he has over you. “Why. Am. I. Here.” You punctuate your words, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Oh sweetheart,” Sukuna says smugly, finally replying, the nail file still shaving away at his thumb. “You have such a strange way of thanking the one who saved you from a murderer last night.”

You blanch, memories of last night flooding back: the girl screaming on the floor, in a pool of her own blood.

“Wh–what happened?”

Sukuna shrugs, before setting the nail file down on the table with a satisfying tchk.

“A girl had both her arms torn off at a party. It was done so quickly that nobody knows who it was or how it happened. Seems she was just one more body in the string of kills by the Limb Ripper, the one that’s been attacking this neighborhood this past month.”

You swallow thickly, pain clouding your eyes. “Is she— she’s—”

“Dead.”

You feel like you’re going to hurl.

“But I saved you,” Sukuna says, cocking his head as he looks expectantly at you with lidded eyes.

“Saved me?” You ask, half disgusted and scared that Sukuna is holding this over you, half grateful and curious about how you got out after fainting by the exit. Oddly, you feel fine— not a single bruise aching on your skin. Shouldn’t I have been trampled?

“You were on the floor when I was running out. So I just grabbed ya. Set you down here for the night.”

“I didn’t see you before I fainted—”

“Course you didn’t, sweetheart,” Sukuna says, his voice an octave lower, “But I’m always watching you… and I’m not the only one who has their eye on you.”

Your blood turns icy and your heart is beating too fast— you need to get out of this shared room now. What the hell does he mean, he’s always watching you? And somebody else, too?

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you. Why else are you here, safe and sound from the murderer?”

“I appreciate it, Sukuna, really,” you force out. “But this doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. Stop calling me sweetheart, it’s gross,” you say firmly.

“You’re still my favorite, sweetheart.”

You visibly shake, regretting all the time you’ve ever spent with this vile man. “That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. I’m leaving.” You walk swiftly to the door, half-surprised and half-relieved that Sukuna is just letting you leave.

“Before you go, darling, you should know that Choso Kamo isn’t the guy you think he is.”

You freeze, hand on the door handle. What the hell? Did Sukuna watch you and Choso bump into each other?

Whipping around, you retort, “You’re such a spiteful creep. I can talk to whoever I want to talk to. Stay away from me. Don’t stalk me.”

“I’m just looking out for you… He’s using you… You don’t have to believe me sweetheart, but just ask him about Yuji Itadori.”

Yuji Itadori? Nobara’s friend? The one Nobara hasn’t seen in over a month?

Sukuna continues, “Choso is obsessed with finding Yuji, his brother. He’s using you because only I know where Yuji currently is… and the only person I’d ever disclose that information to, would be to you, sweetheart.”

You scoff. “Yuji’s fine. Nobara was able to call him over the phone yesterday.”

Sukuna just reaches into his pocket and tosses something small and silver over to you— you manage to catch it— it’s an iPhone. The screen is badly cracked, and when you press on it, a group photo lights up the spiderwebbed screen. You see a tall, white-haired guy in sunglasses with a lollipop in his mouth, hunched over a trio while sporting a goofy look on his face. The trio consists of Nobara, Yuji, and who you assume is Megumi. Nobara is smiling with two shopping bags hanging off her right arm while a black-haired guy looks stoically into the camera, the sweet, strawberry-haired Yuji beaming happily with both his arms around Nobara and Megumi.

“This is Yuji’s smartphone. I was the one who spoke to her yesterday, actually,” Sukuna says, his wicked grin meeting your eyes when you look up from the damaged phone.

Your blood runs an entire degree colder. “You’re lying—”

“Show it to Nobara. Show it to Choso,” Sukuna smirks.

“Did you do anything to him?” You question, voice tight and pitched.

“He’s fine for now, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, anxious, fearful, and sick from whatever stupid game Sukuna is playing. Alarm bells have been going off in your head ever since Sukuna mentioned Yuji’s name— and you pray that Nobara’s friend is alright.

“Just– just leave me alone,” you say, pushing down on the door handle.

Sukuna raises one last question. “Tell me sweetheart, do you, or do you not, want me anymore?”

“I will never want you, ever again,” you say.

Sukuna just raises an eyebrow, smiling his signature cocky, devilish grin. “We’ll see about that,” you hear him say as you run away as fast as you can.

–

You’re running. The tears are falling. Am I safe? What the hell is Sukuna on about? Did he kidnap Yuji? Will he kidnap me? —You’re aware that you’re in possible danger, and all you can think about the face and body of Choso, the mysterious stranger. This would be your last wish before death. You wonder what his arms would feel like, wrapped around you in a snug hug.

—You can’t help but think that you know what it’s like to be hugged by him. Yeah, you just met Choso, but hell, Choso isn’t a stranger. He feels like soul comfort, warm cushions in winter, and happiness. You can’t explain it. It just is: Choso is safety, and you yearn for Choso as you flee Jujutsu West’s dormitory, running past the trees that line Sukuna’s dorm.

And luck must be feeling sorry for you, because as you turn the corner— you run smack into a stranger’s chest— but not just any stranger—

You look up, your eyes puffy, skin marked and tight from salted tears. Choso is staring down at you, concern blaring across his features.

“What’s wrong? __?”

“Choso,” you breathe, chuckling a bit in disbelief— And before you know it, you’re hugging him, exhaling deeply as you feel him immediately wrap his arms around you in a protective embrace.

“Tell me what happened,” Choso says, holding you tightly, securely against his chest.

You stay in Choso’s warm grasp for a moment before pulling away, remembering that he had disappeared right after the attack last night, gone when you needed him most.

“Where were you? Last night— we were talking and then—”

“You looked mortified and I reached out for you— but Sukuna shoved me away. Then you fainted. Sukuna picked you up and ran off with you.”

You gasp— the cold air stabs your lungs and you cough.

Choso is staring down at you with a look of pure worry. “Tell me, did he do anything to you? Tell me—” Choso’s voice comes out heightened with worry.

“Okay. I will,” you say, your hand instinctually reaching out to bridge the distance between the two of you, moved by the urge to give a comforting touch—

You retract your hand. “But we need to get away from this dormitory first.”

Choso’s eyes narrow and he scowls, “Sukuna.”

Choso wordlessly slips his hand into yours, his large hand engulfing yours. You blush at the sudden physical contact, feeling his soft skin on yours, your fingers laced together. Somehow, holding hands with Choso just feels so right.

“Let’s go, __. We‘ll go to my dorm room, it’s in Jujutsu West’s wing.”

–

✧꧂ Please comment ur thoughts/feelings!! I’m curious + that encourages me to keep writing this fic! ♡

Do not plagiarize my writing. Characters are of Gege Akutami’s work, Jujutsu Kaisen. All fanfiction ideas and writings are my own.

➜ M’s Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

#choso fanfiction #choso kamo #choso #choso fanfic #choso fic #choso kamo fanfiction #choso kamo fanfic #choso kamo fic #choso kamo fluff #JJK x reader #JJK x you #choso x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #sukuna #Sukuna Ryomen #sukuna x reader #Sukuna smut #Sukuna fanfic #JJK

[jake-g-lockley]

Hello, can I request 21 or 24 with Steven Grant, with him needing comfort. Gn or male reader.

Fondness for Breaking Apart (Steven Grant x gn!reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompts: “i didn’t know where else to go.” / “i didn’t have anywhere else to go.” and  “oh, god, i’m sorry about your shirt.” *shirt is drenched in tears* “it’s okay. i was planning on throwing it out anyway.” 

Warnings: Angst, mentions of Wendy Spector, brief mentions of Marc, drowning, animal attack, nightmares, anxiety attacks, injury and tending to injury, mention of abuse and trauma.

A/N: Hi there nonnie! Thank you so much for this ask. This episode of sad is brought to you by Atlee. Now, if you don’t know who Atlee is, good for you, keep it that way, trust me. But if you do know who Atlee is, bestie are you good?

Word Count: 1.3k

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steven was frozen. All he could see was the water level steadily rising, and going past his ankles, knees and then hips. He tried to call out for someone, anyone, but he couldn’t, almost as if someone had stolen his voice from him. He almost forgot who he was and what he was doing there. 

He was in a cave and it was dark, except for a glowing scale directly in front of him. A toy alligator bobbed up and down the water and it soon turned into a real alligator, snapping its jaws at Steven. His eyes widened and he finally could move, but it was too late, the alligator was close and the water was up to his chest. He screamed and flailed his arms, trying to swim away, but it caught him, searing pain shooting up his body as blood filled his vision. 

Steven woke up with a start, trying to swing himself off the bed but his leg caught the bedpost and he went tumbling face first onto the hardwood floor. His heart started to constrict in his chest and he couldn’t breathe again, as if he had used all of his strength to scream. His whole body hurt and he was pretty sure his nose was bleeding as he took heaving breaths to settle his lungs. 

He was shaking and he couldn’t find Marc anywhere in the headspace. He sobbed, big globs of tears falling onto the floor, wondering why he had been left alone. He didn’t know what to do or say as he cried without a single sound. Another image popped into his mind and he reached out for it, focusing on it before deciding his next course of action. He crawled towards his door and used the shelf beside it as an anchor for him to stand up. He shakily pulled at all of the locks and flung the door open, stumbling across the threshold to your apartment, hitting your doorbell.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You had been fast asleep but you were awoken to the sound of your doorbell. You glance at the wall clock which reads 1: 25 am and you slip out of bed, worried and confused. Maybe you had just been dreaming up the sound, but it didn’t hurt to check. You opened the door and caught a glimpse of your neighbour leaning against the doorframe. 

“Steven?” you said sleepily, and gasped as he lifted his head to look at you.

His dark circles were more prominent than usual, but his usually rosy cheeks were dull and slathered with tears, along with blood that trailed from his nose. He slumped forward and you caught him, supporting the back of his neck as he cried into the crook of your neck. You pull him inside and shut the door behind him, sitting down onto the floor and pulling him down with you. You didn’t ask him what was wrong, you just held onto him as his body shook and his tears dampened your shoulder. 

You noticed that Steven cried very quietly, almost soundlessly weeping in the most heartbreaking fashion. Remember how you train yourself to cry quietly so that your parents would not hit you and you tried to not let your memories get the best of you. You ran a hand up and down his back soothingly until he stilled and sniffed softly against you. Suddenly, a hiss of pain emitted against your neck and you pulled away hastily to see Steven touching his nose.

“Oh, Steven, let’s get you some tea and clean you up, yeah?” you said, standing up and pulling him up with you. 

He stumbled and you realised that he wasn’t putting any of his weight on his left leg. You knelt down and set his hand on your shoulder for balance, rolling up his pyjama pants to check his leg. Sure enough there was a huge bruise the size of your fist forming on his shin and you hissed at its size. 

You slowly stirred Steven to the soft plush sofa and went to put the kettle on and grab your supplies. You came back almost instantly and placed Steven’s leg up on a cushion and gently laid out your cold pack on it. Steven was looking down and you used your fingers to push against the underside of his chin, lifting his head up so that he was at eye level with you. 

You sighed and began to work, cleaning Steven’s nose with a cotton ball dipped in distilled water. Once cleaned, you noticed that the blood wasn’t coming from inside of his nose, but from the bridge of his nose where a small cut had formed. Steven’s nose was still dripping from when he was crying and you grabbed a few tissues and held it at his nose.

“Blow, softly.” you whispered. 

He did with a few hisses of discomfort and you examined the tissue for any sign of blood before sighing with relief. Tossing the tissue into your makeshift basket, you continued with your little assignment. Steven’s eyes twitched as you dabbed the area with a little bit of betadine before placing some gauze on it and gently tapping it down with medical tape. 

“I’m so sorry about your shirt.” Steven sniffed apologetically as his hand tried to brush away the blood, snot and tears that clung to the fabric.

“It’s alright Steven, I was gonna throw it out anyway.” you said, offering him a small smile to accompany your joke. 

You handed him the cup of tea and he sipped slowly staring into space. 

“I didn’t know where else to go…” he said softly and a tear ran down his cheek. 

“Steven, look, I’m always here and it's alright.” you said, wiping the tear away.

“I-i can’t find Marc and I don’t know what's going on.” the tears were coming down quick again and you jumped up onto the sofa and cuddled Steven as his breathing became more raggard. 

“Sweetheart, I’m pretty sure he’s still there. He’s just probably exhausted.” you said soothingly, rubbing Steven’s shoulder, hoping to god that Marc was still there for the sake of the both of you. 

“Look, why don’t we go and sit on the balcony for a while, yeah? I need you to take some deep breaths Steven.” You said and you led him towards the balcony and sat him on the floor. 

You laced your fingers with his and held onto him tightly as his breathing slowly evened out. He leaned on your shoulder as the both of you stared up at the moon, which was shining all bright and beautiful in the sky. 

“You know what Steven? There was an old wives tale about how if you lie on your mothers lap and look up at the moon, whatever you asked it would come true.” you mumbled, leaning your head against his. 

Steven stayed silent for a while as you both listened to the sound of traffic down below.  

“My mom was an abusive alcoholic, so I doubt she’d let me lie on her lap.” Steven casually chuckled thickly.

Tears filled in your eyes as you softly punched him, as your heart broke further at his situation you quickly rubbed away the tears that dropped out. 

“Lie on my lap, Steven” you whispered. 

“Huh”

“I said, lie on my lap.” you said a little firmer, confident with your decision. 

Steven gently lays his head on your lap and you bring your hand to his head to caress his hair. 

“Make a wish, any wish, and don’t tell me.” you said as Steven looked up at the moon.

He closed his eyes and wished that you would never leave him the way everyone did all his life. He nodded once he was done and you glared up at the moon as angry tears left your eyes. 

“If the moon doesn’t fulfill your wish, I’ll fight him myself.” you said, and you had a weird feeling that it was listening by the way Steven chuckled.

You continued to stroke his hair as the both of you sobbed away, absorbing the comfort from each other’s company. Only when he was asleep did you kiss his forehead whispering in his ear that you’d never leave him, promising him as you too laid down and stared into the night sky. 

Reblogs are appreciated~~~~

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @autismsupermusicalassassin @alexxavicry @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @celiaswife @violet-19999 @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld

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[majesty-madness]

"Liquid Grief" - Bucky Barnes x reader (sfw)

Summary: Parties were never her thing, especially when alcohol is involved.

Word Count: 3700+

Warnings: angst, crying, panic attack, anxiety, alcohol consumption, mentions of being drunk/tipsy, past trauma, mentions of family problems

a/n: I won’t say too much, but I will say that this is based on a bit of my own experiences. So I just want to say that if you’ve been through something like this you are not alone, and because it’s difficult to bring up this topic with people I know, writing it out in a story helps me process through it. And if this helps you in some way, I’m glad you found comfort in it.

Also, I know the title is a little weird; it was kind of an ironic twist on the whole “liquid courage” phrase. Not proofread.

Main Masterlist

She couldn’t believe she agreed to be here. 

This was the absolute last place she wanted to be right now, and yet here she was; on the top floor of the Avengers base in New York, probably Tony’s most ritzy floor in the entire building. 

Tony decided for one reason or another to have a small party to celebrate their successful missions as of late, and that was fine but eventually people who had nothing to do with the Avengers showed up until it was packed. 

That was just one of the downsides to having Tony as a friend, he invited way too many people.

Tony had invited Bucky as well despite their history, seeing as how he was a friend to Steve and Tony considered Steve his friend so to each his own. 

Y/N could tell the moment they arrived that Bucky had been slightly nervous as well, and it was because of his nervousness that Y/N was adamant in staying. Not to mention that her best friend, Natasha would also be there. 

No matter how uncomfortable Y/N was at the party, she felt that since she was such a homebody that she should try to enjoy something she didn’t usually participate in. 

A whole lot of good that turned out to be. 

As soon as Y/N got there, Natasha had been distracted by a retired SHIELD agent who she knew but Y/N did not. 

And while she originally stayed with Bucky, Sam quickly dragged him away once he saw the man.

It left Y/N to fend for herself, which meant talking to people she barely knew. 

To make matters worse, every single person there was drinking. Wine, beer, whiskey, vodka, you name it, someone had it. 

The sight of any kind of alcohol made Y/N anxious. It reminded her too much of her family. 

When they began to drink they acted like completely different people, people she didn’t recognize and while her family had never done anything to hurt her, in some way it still pained her seeing how they could barely get through one day without a drink in their hands. 

She remembered the countless times she timidly admitted that she was worried because they drank so much and acted like…well not themselves. Sadly after saying so she’d be met with anger or frustration at the fact that she pointed out their unprecedented behavior. 

They would go on to say she didn’t know what she was talking about and that she was judging them, trying to tell them she thought she was better than they were.

Though once they’d sober up, they apologized for how they behaved and the guilt was clear in their eyes, but the damage was already done. 

So nowadays, alcohol (no matter the form) put her on edge. 

However, Y/N wasn’t going to prance around telling people they were wrong for drinking alcohol because in small doses, drinking was okay. It wouldn’t kill you to have an occasional drink, but when someone needed it every day, that was a problem. A problem she didn’t know how to deal with. 

Was it a problem though? Was she being dramatic? Maybe too sensitive or emotional? Perhaps a prude for her grudge against the fermented beverage? 

That’s what Y/N thought at least. 

Her brain rationalized that she was a weirdo, an odd duck because she refused to drink. 

I mean if everyone else was such a big fan of it, then why wasn’t she? 

Quickly, Y/N shook her head out of the creeping thoughts that entered without her permission.

Her ears suddenly tuned back to the receptionist that had been talking to her for the majority of the night, not missing the glass of wine in the lady’s hand. 

“Do you think that a date to a cafe is boring?” The young woman asked her. 

Y/N blinked a few times, trying to get her head back to reality. “Uh, no I don’t think so. Bucky and I go to the cafe all the time.” 

The girl tilted her head to the side, eyes squinting in confusion. “Bucky?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, you probably don’t know who that is, um…it’s that man over by the bar. The one with gloves and black leather jacket.” Y/N quickly explained while she pointed to Bucky talking to Sam at the bar. 

The lady turned to look over her shoulder immediately seeing him and expressing that she saw him. “Oh, yeah! James Barnes, right? The guy who used to be the Winter Soldier. How is he? Ya know, adjusting to the modern times.”

The mention of the name HYDRA gave him, caused Y/N to pause and slowly process what she was asking. 

God, she needed to get out of here. Her anxiety was short circuiting her brain. 

“Uh.. he’s fine I guess, things are still a bit new for him so it's a work in progress.” 

She watched the lady nod, cheerily, a little too cheerily when another woman walked over. Someone Y/N, yet again, did not know. 

“Hey, Christine! How are you?” 

The receptionist beamed with a smile. “I’m doing great, Nicole, how are you? Did you get that new job?”

The two ladies began to chit chat amongst themselves, side stepping Y/N’s existence entirely. Not that she really gave a shit since she didn’t know these girls personally. 

Though she decided to stay for another ten minutes in case one of them did want to talk to her, but once the topic of the woman, Nicole's dog came up, Y/N ditched the conversation all together. 

Her feet subconsciously carried her to the man she desperately wanted to be beside. 

Y/N heard the familiar sound of Bucky’s laughter at something Sam said, causing the slightest of smiles to appear across her face. 

Unfortunately, the smile vanished when her eyes caught the shape of two shot glasses sitting beside them on top of the bar. 

Don’t freak out. She scolded herself, putting on an act as she stepped beside the two men. 

“Hey.”

Bucky met her gaze first, his hand coming up instinctively to rest on her back. “Hey, Doll.” 

“What are you guys up to?” Y/N asked while faking a casual attitude. 

“Just trading stories.” Bucky said, grinning from ear to ear. 

Clearly, he was completely relaxed, and Y/N knew that was thanks to Sam. He definitely had the lighthearted aura that Bucky needed, someone who let him look forward to the future. 

“And playing an old drinking game.” Sam added loudly over top of the music that was playing.

Suddenly her throat felt dry like she just swallowed sand. It was beginning to get hard to breath, to think, to calm down. The familiar rush of panic began to rise from the pit of her stomach to her heart causing it to thump harshly. 

Oh no. 

Y/N gulped. “Oh yeah…” 

“Yeah, so how about you join us?” Sam suggested, already pouring liquor into another shot glass. He held it up in front of him, toward Y/N. 

She felt her heart rate spike right then as she eyed the brown-ish colored liquid with an all too familiar smell. 

“No thanks, I’m good.” She declined politely, trying to keep her voice from cracking. 

Sam pushed it closer to her. “Oh come on, don’t be like that. Just one.” 

Sweat began to fall from her pores, her throat felt tight, and her tongue was heavy. For a second, she doubted she could speak at all. 

“I said no, Sam, I-I don’t want it.” Her nerves caused her body to tremble with anxiety, the recipe for a panic attack. 

Her brain knew exactly what was happening, making her repeat the same phrase in her mind. 

Don’t freak out. 

Don’t freak out. 

Don’t Freak Out. 

DON’T Freak Out.

DON’T FREAK OUT!

“One shot, that’s it.” Sam persisted.

Then she snapped. “I SAID, I didn’t want it, Sam!” 

As quickly as it came the shocked expression on both Bucky and Sam’s face, cleared away the anger and what washed over her was an enormous amount of guilt. 

Her eyes darted between the two men, sight becoming clouded with tears. “I- I’m so sorry…” 

She actually whimpered before turning on her heel, and sprinting right out the door on that floor. 

Y/N barely made it into the hallway when the tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. She sobbed as she ran down the empty space, hoping to get out from the four walls as soon as possible. 

Luckily, she was aware of a balcony just around the corner.

On the first day that she visited the inside of the Avengers base, she had found a little balcony tucked away a few floors below the very top. When at the vase, she spent a lot of time on that balcony just taking in the city view. 

It was the perfect spot to go unbothered for long periods of time and now she desperately needed that. 

She took a sharp right turn down another hallway, breaking off into a section that was the balcony. She pushed past the glass door, and stumbled outside until her body collided with the railing. 

Her hands gripped the railing, body hutching over, and breaths coming out in hurried huffs of air. 

Knowing that no one would hear her from below or above, Y/N let herself openly cry into the night air. 

Every little memory of her family drinking, every thought of frustration or sadness, every time she’d been rejected came to the forefront of her mind. Despite all the years that passed, the despair still felt fresh. 

She selfishly wished they would’ve stopped drinking, stopped acting like idiots, stopped promising they’d stop then do it again, stopped betraying her trust, stopped dismissing her when she expressed her concern. 

Just stopped. 

Y/N knew that they were only human, and humans were inherently flawed; of course she knew that. She had largely forgiven the times they hurt her, as she was sure that they forgave her when she hurt them, but she could never shake the sorrow of this ongoing problem. 

How many times did she have to go through this before it stopped hurting? 

What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to solve this? 

Had she not done enough? Too much?

What did she do wrong?

That last thought caused her body to go slack against the railing, and fall to the balcony floor. She sat on her knees with her hands planted to the floor, tears dripping from her cheeks as her face looked down. 

It had been a long time since she last cried so hard, and she already could feel her eyes swelling from the pressure. 

Y/N continued to cry for several minutes, heavy pants escaping her mouth even as she attempted to calm her breathing. It just wasn’t happening. 

Nothing pulled her out of her broken state until she heard the sound of someone stepping out onto the balcony. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice gently spoke. 

She might’ve stopped crying had it been anyone else, but not Bucky. However, she made no attempt to speak, instead she shook her head. 

He stepped even closer to her, pausing just short of a few steps then crouched down. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Finally, she found her voice. “I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why they drank so much because all it does is make them act like fools, act like people I don’t know.” 

The confession left Bucky a little confused as he wasn’t sure who she was referring to, but he stayed silent, simply letting her get it out. 

“They didn’t used to, they used to have fun without it, used to live without it. But once they started, they never stopped. And it was always so much, but when I told them I was worried for them they got angry with me, like I was attacking them.” She paused as a sob stuttered out. 

Bucky placed both hands on her shoulders, fully sinking down onto the floor with her. 

“I just wanted them to take care of themselves, I wanted them to go back to the way they used to be, be the people I know instead of being these entirely different people.” She brought one of her hands to cover her mouth to somehow silence the gut wrenching cry that hurt her throat. 

That time Bucky wrapped his arms around her, bringing her inside his warm embrace. She reciprocated by doing the same, tucking her face into his shoulder, and blind to the tear marks she left on his jacket. 

“I love them so much, and I just wanted them to be okay, to be healthy. But all I ever got was rejection, especially whenever I said that it made me uncomfortable when they drank. It’s like they didn’t care! No matter what, it just-” 

She didn’t finish opting to cry and hold Bucky as if he were her lifeline. In a way, he was. 

He cradled the back of her head, the other arm securing her body against him. “Shh, shh it’s okay, sweetheart it’s okay. I’m here.” 

Bucky felt Y/N shake her head on his shoulder. “I feel so stupid for being so upset, because I know that a lot of people drink, it’s me that’s the weird one.”

“No, darling, you’re not.” 

“They made so many promises, saying they would stop but they never did and I tried to be understanding. I really did, but it didn’t matter. We ended up right back to where we started. I don’t know what to do or how I’m supposed to feel. I hate this!” 

Y/N was breathing hard, so much so Bucky thought she was on the cusp of hyperventilating. “Darling, I know that this is hard, but I need to take a deep breath. On three, you’ll breathe through your nose then out through your mouth okay?” 

“I can’t..” She shook her head, making a gasping like sound when she sobbed again. 

“You can, I promise. Just breathe with me, listen to me. One..two..three, breath in.” Bucky then inhaled through his nose, hearing Y/N do the same albeit a little shaky. “Breathe out…” 

Both of them exhaled through the mouth, and he noticed that she trembled a little less now. 

“That’s good, let’s try it again okay? Breathe in….” 

She closed her eyes, following his instructions. 

“Breathe out…” 

They did that together several more times, and Y/N eventually came back to the present and calmly took in the world around her. The warmth of his embrace, the sound of his breathing, his heartbeat, the hand rubbing her back up and down, all of it.

Instead of being forced back to the real world, it felt as though someone had gently grabbed a hold of her hand and guided her back to a place of serenity. 

Bucky carefully pulled back, letting his hands stay on her back. “Are you okay? Feel a little calmer?”

Y/N gave a slight nod, wiping away a few of her tears. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, I promise I’ll listen, I’ll do whatever you need.” He reassured as he kept his voice low and soft so he wouldn’t overwhelm her. 

So she told him. 

She told him about how when she was a kid, her family began to drink and had never stopped. How irresponsibly they acted, how mad they got at her for bringing it up, their apologies while heartfelt didn’t change anything, and how much it had impacted her over the years as well as how silly she felt for being so panicked about it. 

In her mind, alcohol was something that everyone in the entire world had and took part in and so she thought perhaps she was the inconvenient one for choosing a different way of life. 

“That’s a lot to deal with.” Bucky said hushedly, sitting on the floor beside Y/N. 

She resorted to pulling her knees up to rest her chin on top of them. “I know.”

There was a lul of silence between them, the sounds of the bustling city way down below the only thing they could hear. 

Then Y/N sighed, throat still thick from crying. “The thing that kills me is that they’re good people, I mean they gave me a great childhood and everything. I just want better for them.” 

Bucky shook his head in her defense. “But Y/N you can still love them and not agree with the choices they make. And even if drinking is something a lot of people do, you’re not stupid for wanting nothing to do with it.”

“I know that too. It makes me sad though, they can’t seem to live without it; that’s not who they used to be.” 

Y/N felt the slightest bit of tears return to her eyes causing her to lift her head up and look toward the sky. 

Bucky noticed right away so he wrapped one arm around her shoulder, and tugged her toward him. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s alright to be sad about it, but listen: you are not responsible for what your family decides to do. They have the freedom to make those choices, that’s not something you can control.” 

She looked over to the love of her life, all teary eyed and despaired. Bucky lifted his hand up to wipe a lone tear that managed to escape. 

“If what you said is true, then your family does care about you. That’s a good thing, but they can’t expect you to be alright with the actions that make you uncomfortable and they’ll have to accept that you're not okay with it.” 

Y/N laid her head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck. He then brought both of his arms around her, beginning to slowly rock back and forth. “What’s important is that you focus on trying to live your life, and not letting them take over your’s. Yes, continue to love them, but ultimately they gotta own their own decisions and not rely on you to tell them.”

He felt the familiar movement of her nodding as she pushed herself further into his side. He was a bit convinced that if she could disappear into him, she would. 

Most times, he felt the same. 

“Bucky?” Her small voice made its way to his ears. 

“Yes?” He whispered back to her. 

“I love you.” 

The super soldier smiled that time. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“No, no, no. None of that.” The man quickly interjected. “You don’t let me apologize for the problems I have so I won’t let you.” 

For the first time that night, Y/N laughed. “Okay, okay, I won’t apologize. Sorry.”

Bucky sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me.” Y/N said, pulling back from his shoulder to kiss his cheek. 

“I believe I already do that, Doll.” He smirked then leaned into kiss her cheek too.

Suddenly, Bucky jerked back a bit and immediately went to his back pocket and he pulled out his phone. 

“It’s Sam.” He clicked the answer button then held it up to his ear. “Yeah, Sam?” 

Sitting next to him, Y/N made out some of what was being said, but not all of it. All she could gauge from the conversation was what Bucky said aloud. 

“I’m with her right now. She’s okay now, why?” 

He paused for a moment before pulling the phone away from his ear. “He said he wants to talk to you, are you okay with that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N took the phone from his hand and held it up. “Sam?”

“Y/N, I just want to say I’m sorry for being like that. I am a little tipsy, and I know I can be a bit much when I’m tipsy so I’m really sorry.” 

Y/N managed to smile. “It’s okay, Sam. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, I wasn’t really mad at you, it's just I let some…personal stuff get to me and I took it out on you.”

“No, it’s alright. I was being pushy, so next I promise I’ll tone it down.”

“Thanks, Sam. I appreciate that. Have a good night.” As soon as she heard him say good night, she handed the phone back to Bucky. He quickly said his goodbye then hung up. 

After he put his phone into his pocket, he looked to Y/N. “What do you say to some Chinese food and a movie back home?” 

“I’d like that.” She eagerly agreed, her once saddened expression turned delighted. 

“Alrighty then.” Bucky breathed, clapping his hands together briefly like he was gathering his thoughts before getting up off the ground. He held his hand out to Y/N who took it without hesitation, letting him pull her up from the floor. 

When she got to her feet, Bucky pulled her against his chest, eyes staring lovingly down at her. “You ready?” 

“I’m ready.” 

He pecked her lips, taking pride in her slightly embarrassed expression coupled with a bashful grin. 

Bucky grabbed a hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers together and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

Y/N did the same, giggling when he looked back at her while heading back inside the building. The entire time, from the base to the Chinese restaurant to their apartment, Y/N’s mind kept returning to the moment she panicked to the moment Bucky found her and helped her. 

That always happened whenever the shit hit the fan, however, she realized this had been the first time she had someone to tell about what was going on inside her head. He was the first person to listen and not get upset because she admitted what was bothering her. 

She couldn’t tell her family about this problem because they were the problem, so she kept it inside. 

Having Bucky by her side reminded her that she didn’t have to live life alone, stuck in her head, but instead could work through these problems without being judged. 

For that, she was grateful. Unyieldingly grateful.

a/n: If you’re reading this, thanks for making it all the way through. Sorry if this was a convoluted mess, things were really tough for me yesterday and it’s kind of difficult to explain and kinda makes no sense, but writing in this form helps a little. Regardless, hope you guys are having a good day. Looking forward to finishing the next chapter for “A Past Encounter,” so keep an eye out for that. 

#marvel #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

[i-eat-worlds]

Things That Shouldn’t Happen In A Closet

so uh….this exists now. It’s long. I didn’t think it’d be this long. I might’ve made a mistake. Anyway hope you enjoy

Content: Explicit, graphic birth scene, probably inaccurate onset of labor, emotional whump, angst, medic caretaker, hostage situations, pregnancy whump, whump of a minor (does being born count as whump?), anxiety and panic attacks, feces mention

Joseph scanned HAL’s always busy medbay, looking around for the charge nurse that was on duty today. It was odd that they weren’t out and about, and so he turned down the left hallway, past the breakroom and towards the bank of offices and closets that were further away.

He found her coming out of a bathroom, putting his hand up to wave her over. “Hey Tori.” He handed her the clipboard, probably an all too familiar action. “Are you on today? I thought you were on maternity leave.”

Tori quickly signed the papers. “I was supposed to be, but half the day shift called out today, and they couldn’t cover it.” She started to walk back towards the heart of the medbay. “Are you saying I’m incapable of doing my job because I’m pregnant, Joseph?”

“No, no nothing like that.” He trailed several steps behind her.

“Good.” She handed the clipboard back to him, face cringing in pain. “Word of warning: do not eat the cafeteria meatloaf. You will not be rewarded for your bravery.”

“Noted.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first.

“And no, Dr. Thomas is not working today.”

His face felt hot for some reason, but he was quickly distracted by the sound of a voice over the PA. “Code Purple on 4.”

“Fuck.” Tori’s steps immediately picked up, breaking into a light jog. Code Purple meant that a villain had escaped from the specialized ward up on the fourth floor. They were to evacuate who they could, and lock down everything else.

Joseph followed her down the hallway, running back towards the medbay’s central hub. Far in front of them, they saw several figures. Before Joseph could yell at them to run or hide, a bright green bolt of energy flew down the hallway.

His instincts kicked in, and he quickly shoved Tori into a side hallway, body placed protectively in front of hers. The blast blew past them, metal clattering as it hit something out of sight. Tori looked up at him, eyes wide and panicked, as he dragged her into an open room. As quietly as he could, he pulled the door shut behind them, and locked it.

“Get down,” he mouthed, retreating into the darkness of the shelves. They were stocked with office supplies, a giant box of paper blocking his view of the door. Tori squatted carefully, holding her breath.

Heavy footsteps stomped down the hallway, coming to a stop outside the door. The handle jiggled a little, starting to twist. Did it not lock?

There was a dramatic sigh from the other side, and then a harsh “it’s locked, idiot.” The figures moved away, charging after something or someone else.

Tori let out a breath as she sat down. “Okay, what the fuck?” Her voice shook a little.

Joseph was quiet, unsure what to say, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “They’re probably trying to escape,” he rationalized. “We’ll wait here until the clear announcement.”

“Yeah.” She leaned back against the wall, hand wrapped around her belly. “God, this is not what I needed today.”

Suddenly, her face twisted with pain, a quiet grunt forcing its way out from her lips. He leaned forward, eyes ickering over her. “You alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just-” she scrubbed the back of her neck. “-a Braxton-Hicks. It’s fine.”

Before he could open his mouth to respond, the PA cracked. They both looked up expectantly, listening for the news.

“Hello, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone-elses of HAL.” The voice was sinister, deep like the one in the hallway. But, Joseph thought grimly, at least it was inclusive? “I’m going to not prolong this more than I have too. Me and several compatriots have seized control of your medbay, and everyone inside. The doors are locked and barricaded. No one will get in or out without us knowing. Our demands are simple. Ten grand for each of us, a helicopter, and a pardon, one for each of us.” There was a pause. “Failure to capitulate will result in harm rendered to the hostages. You have three hours to get it sorted.”

The PA faded away, leaving the closet in an oppressive silence. Tori’s eyes met his, shimmering with fear. “What do we do?” She whispered.

“We stay put,” he kept the nervousness from edging into his tone. “They haven’t found us yet, and they’re surrounded by almost every single superhero in the city. I don’t think it's going to be a long term affair.”

“Yeah. It’s a stupid plan.” Her voice wobbled, and Joseph could see her breathing starting to quicken. “It’ll be alright.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He pressed his hands into the cold floor tile. An awkward silence passed between them, the stale atmosphere of the janitorial closet not doing the conversation any favors. The seconds on his watch ticked up, counting up as the minutes passed. Tori doubled over again, and another curse dropped from her lips.

“Oooh, ahhh that’s great,” she said through gritted teeth. “That is just bloody wonderful.”

“Another Braxton-Hicks?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

A beat of silence passed, and then there was the loud crash of something being knocked over. Both Tori and Joseph clammed up, listening as a cacophony of steps thundered down the hallway. The door handle started to rattle, but neither of them moved to open up.

There was a scream, and then the sound of a body hitting the oor. Tori’s mouth popped open, and Joseph stiened. Several minutes passed, slow like molasses. A sickening feeling somersaulted in his gut as the PA clicked on.

“Dear HAL,” It was the same voice as before, though now the tone was tinted with rage. “Don't think we wouldn’t nd the brat of a sidekick you sent in to spy on us. It will be harder than that to displace us. You now have an hour and a half to meet our demands. Do try to be timely.”

The system clicked off, and Tori's panicked eyes met his. “We should turn ourselves in.”

He shook his head. “No-”

“That person is probably hurt, Joseph.” Her face tightened as another contraction rolled through her. “There could be others-they’re going to find us anyway.”

“No, Tori, no.” He scooted closer to her. “I know it's stressful, but we need to keep ourselves safe first, right?”

“Yeah,” a half-faked laugh fell from her lips. “Never did I think a day would come when I would let a frontliner lecture me about safety.”

“We’re not that bad.” He slouched again, glad that Tori seemed more relaxed.

“You’re that bad….” She suddenly trailed off, head looking down. The crotch of her scrub pants was soaked, and uid was pooling on the tile underneath her. “Joseph…” He saw it as she spoke it. “My water just broke.”

Oh fuck. He took a calming breath before responding, and an understanding passed between them. “What pregnancy is this?”

“Third. Third child, too.” Another contraction hit, but she kept talking. Joseph glanced at his watch. “My last two came pretty quick, too.”

“How quickly?”

“They said if I ever wanted to have a third child I should live as close to the hospital as I could for the last three weeks.” She sighed. “I don’t think this was what they meant.”

“Probably not, no.” Joseph, internally, also sighed. This was going to be a thing, and there was no avoiding it. “When are you due?”

“In a week or so.”

“Any complications?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Both were cephalic, no previa or anything, and both were vaginal. No diabetes, no preeclampsia either” Her hand was back on her neck again. “And I did the prenatal care, too.”

“Alright,” He slowly stood up. “Any allergies?”

“Sulfa.” Her eyes followed him as he moved around the closet. “What’re you looking for?”

“Towels, or anything in that genre. Among other things.” So far though, he’d only found lots of paper, pens, and clipboards. “Do you take any medications?”

“Nope,” she tilted her head. “This is really the wrong closet for that.”

He should’ve picked a better closet for them to hide in.“When did you-”

“Five hours ago. It was the stupid meatloaf.” He tried to talk again, and she cut him off. “I’d check the EMS storage down the hall and to the left.”

They were both quiet for a moment. “Tori, I don’t think…”

“This baby is happening, Joseph. And it’s going to be sooner rather than later.” A high pitched hiss escaped her lips, and he checked his watch again. Five minutes, roughly. “It’s going to be what…a ten minute trip at most. I’ll be fine on my own. Just follow the signs to the ambulance bay. I know you’ve stolen from it before.”

Joseph breathed, eyes flickering towards the door. “Alright. Keep the lights off and stay low. If, heaven forbid, something happens and you are caught, you do not sacrifice yourself for me.” There was something dangerous and deadly serious in his eyes. “Do you understand?

“Yes.” She swallowed, but held his gaze, watching as he turned towards the door and pressed his ear to it.

His hand reached down and worked the lock. “See you in a bit.”

After cracking it to double check that no one was coming, he pushed it open and slid out into the hallway. Tori watched him exit, the door closing softly behind him with a little click.

It was eerily quiet as he snuck down the hallway, keeping his body close to the wall. He was hyperaware, listening for the thud of a boot or the whisper of a voice. The emptiness bothered him, all of the staff and patients having either been evacuated or captured.

He carefully stepped over an overturned cart, avoiding the sterile packaged equipment that was spilled over the floor. Blood flecked the wall, and he did his best to rein in his thoughts as he walked past. It was smeared on the floor as well, painting a grim picture of what had happened.

While it was awful, he forced himself to move on. He had someone else to take care of. After, if he had a chance, he’d make sure they were alright.

Before he turned the corner, his eyes foickered up to the mirror to make sure the coast was clear. This hallway was just as empty and unsettling as the last one had been, the side entrance to the ambulance garage all the way down at the far end.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck raised. On blind instinct, he dove into the closet, hoping it was the right one. A blast of energy hurled down the hall behind him, and crossed his fingers as footsteps followed.

“Did you even see anything?” Someone said, their voice frustrated.

There was a beat of silence. “I thought I saw someone walking! I mean it this time.” Another pause. “I promise.”

“Fine,” they grumbled. “I’ll wait here. Go check it out.”

As the steps drew closer, it became harder to breathe. When he’d hidden, he hadn’t locked the door. The closet was tiny, and he didn’t really have a place to go. There was nothing to protect him.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to push down the acid that rose up his throat. Silence was his only option, because luck wouldn’t save him. It had intervened twice today, and he doubted it would happen again.

The door creaked, and Joseph’s heart uttered as he realized they were leaning against it. There wasn’t anything he could do but wait.

Until they left, he was stuck.

*** Tori flinched at the sound of another energy blast being sent hurling down the hallway. She crossed her fingers, hoping that Joseph hadn’t been found yet. The deep pit in her gut made her doubt that, and the dread that thought caused was almost unbearable.

Joseph had told her, in no uncertain terms, to sell him out. Despite the instruction, she knew he wouldn't be doing the same to her. Did they know she was missing? Would they hurt him because of her? Would they hurt him anyway?

Another cramp rolled through her, reminding her of the other issue. She was in labor. In a fucking closet, in a hospital crawling with escaped villain, and the one person who could’ve helped her had probably been captured.

Or worse.

The confines of the closet seemed to be closing in on her, and it was difficult to breathe. Every neuron in her body was screaming, and it was just too much. She lowered herself down to the oor, letting the cold tile press into her back.

It was grounding, though her heart was still thundering in her chest. If she had to do this on her own, could she? What if something went wrong? There was no way she’d be able to deal with that, with any of it.

The tears welled up, and she let them come, as quietly as she could. They rolled off the sides of her face, dropping onto the floor. She laid there, for who knew how long, grieving the future.

Her ears twitched when she heard a voice coming down the hallway. Well, it was a pair of voices, walking down the hallway.

She gasped, trying to keep quiet even as she continued to cry. The steps moved impossibly slow, taking forever to pass. They stood still, and if they were talking, she couldn't tell. The only noise she would hear was the ringing in her ears.

Eventually they left, but she couldn't get herself to calm down. No matter what she tried, the panic would go away. It was like she’d been torn asunder and tossed out to sea. She couldn’t nd a way this would turn out well, a way this wasn’t horrible and awful. The thoughts rose in her like a crescendo, like a river overflowing its banks.

And then they stopped.

The closet was too dark for her to notice the black spots that had been slowly clouding her vision, and all she was left with was a dizzy lurch and the burning feeling that she should’ve been laying on her side.

Her eyes slid closed, and she dropped into unconsciousness.

*** Every second Joseph spent inside the closet was torture.

It was like watching sand slowly drop from an hourglass, one painful grain at a time. The painted over brick was grating on his back, and an ancient backboard was propped up on the wall next to him. Someone had done a piss-poor job cleaning blood off the handle.

He spent a lot of time studying that stain, looking at the crusty, rusty brown marks. Henle would’ve crucified him for that, and Jenn too.

It was funny, and then it wasn’t funny at all.

He had been stuck in this stupid closet for far too long. He needed to get back Tori, make sure she was still doing alright. Not be stuck trying to not breathe too loud because the villains were still outside.

The person leaning against the door had started whistling. It was incessant, the same seven notes over and over again.

“Could you stop that?” The other person snapped.

“Then hurry up. Boss is gonna want us back soon.” They pushed off the door.

There was a long tired sigh. “Ugh. Fine. I did actually see someone, though.”

“Sure.”

The both of them started to walk away, and Joseph could finally breathe again. He waited for another very long minute to make sure that they’d actually left, and then he shifted forward.

It’d been ages since he’d last been in here, but the obstetrics kit was easy enough to find. They were shoved in the far corner, on the bottom shelf, but they were there. Maybe HAL couldn’t clean a backboard, but they could organize a closet. He swiped up a few extra pairs of gloves, since five bucks said the pair inside the pack were mediums and wouldn’t t anyway, and an infant BMV, heaven forbid, then steeled himself for the journey back.

Holding the supplies close to his chest, he peeked his head out the door. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he stepped out into the hallway. It had kept its odd, unnatural quiet, and he moved through it as quickly as he could.

Finally, he arrived back at their original hiding spot, quickly creaking the door open and sliding back inside. His gaze was attached to the oor as he set the supplies down. “Tori, I’m back….”

She was laying on her back, head lolled to the side, body slack.

“Tori?” He dropped to his knees beside her, watching her face for any sign of movement. “Tori, are you with me?”

Nothing.

His eyes moved over her, watching her chest rise and fall, a little slower than he would’ve liked. He slid his fingers under her jaw, then set about getting her on her left side.

It took a few minutes for her to stir again, and it appeared that it was a contraction that finally woke her. She grunted in pain as she pulled her eyes open, naked fear ashing across her face. “Joseph?”

He nodded, quickly starting to reassess her. “Yeah?”

There was a pause while she waited for the contraction to lessen enough for her to speak. “I was-I thought-” she stopped herself, but not the sob that fell out instead of words. “I’m sorry, I-” Her hand scrubbed at her face. “-should’ve been on my side.”

“It’s alright,” he scooted back to give her some space. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

She groaned as she sat properly again, folding her legs up. “It’s alright.”

It was obvious that she was stressed. Her eyes were still red and puffy, and her shoulders were tense. Whenever she spoke, her voice was shaky, and Joseph could tell she was straining to hold it together.

Tori opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. “I thought you-” Another contraction ripped through her, yanking the words out of her mouth before she could say them. Her eyes opened wide as she tried to stay quiet, hissing through her teeth. “Joseph, the baby is coming. I need to push!”

He shifted forward, reaching across the cramped room for his gloves. “So, we’ve reached the point where I would like to take a look. Is that alright?”

“Yes.” She nodded, reaching for her waistband, hands still shaking. Slowly, she wiggled them off, casting them off to the side in a pile, then leaned her back against the wall and opened her legs.

“I’m not going to touch, I’m just going to look, yeah?” He scooted closer so he could see better. The closet’s lighting was dim, but he could still make out the pinkish, stringy bloody show.

Her face twisted as another contraction started, hung and pung as she tried not to scream. A portion of the baby’s scalp appeared, then vanished as it faded away. Soon’s time was over. This baby was coming now.

“I’m going to get set up, alright?” He reached back for the obstetrics pack, starting to unfold it between her legs.

A beat of silence based, and then she spoke up again. “You should give me your belt.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to scream…and have them find us because of that.”

He nodded, the inherent misery of the idea picking at him. “Yeah.”

The buckle clicked as he removed it, then handed it to her. She folded the woven fabric over itself several times, hands still shaking. Joseph pushed away the pressure weighing on his chest, focusing on the task at hand. He pulled on the flimsy plastic apron and changed to the sterile gloves, then placed two towels on her belly and another under her hips.

Another contraction began, and she shoved the wadded-up belt in her mouth to keep herself from screaming. The top of the baby’s head emerged again, Tori’s face twisting into a grimace. The head didn’t disappear this time. “You’re crowning now.” She nodded in understanding. “I’m going to touch, alright?”

He placed one hand on the baby’s head and one underneath, pressing a sponge over her anus. “Keep breathing, and push when you need to.”

Her breathing was quick, hands grasping at the tile. She beared down again, eyes starting to water as more of the head emerged. A thick, brown substance soaked the sponge, and Joseph saw her roll her eyes. She murmured an apology through the belt.

“You’re alright, it happens all the time.” He quickly covered it with another towel, then went back to supporting the head.

Tears started to well in her eyes as she continued to push the head out. Slowly, she made progress, ears and then the forehead, followed by the eyes. Joseph kept the head supported, doing his best to keep Tori calm.

A long, pained grunt fell from her lips, and finally, the head fully emerged. He quickly wiped the blood and fluid away, then suctioned, mouth first to prevent aspiration. Tori was sniing, eyes red as she heaved air in. “You’re doing great.”

His fingers circled the baby’s neck, checking for entanglement. He kept his face carefully neutral when he felt it, but was relieved to nd that it wasn’t tight enough to be of current concern. “That’s the head, we’re nearly there.”

Tori’s face hardened, and she pushed again, the baby rotating so their shoulders could follow. The upper shoulder slipped out without much trouble, and then he guided them upward so that the bottom one could come out after.

They were covered in blood and cheese-like vernix, and Joseph kept a careful grip on their slippery body. Compared to the head and the shoulders, the rest of them delivered quickly.

She spit the belt out of her mouth. “How is she?” Sweat was dripping down her forehead, exhaustion evident in her face.

There was a painfully long few seconds, and then the baby started to breathe. They started to cry, wailing like a siren, and Joseph’s heart dropped. Any advantage they’d had from silence had just vanished. “Do they have a name?”

“Patricia.” She smiled, watching as Joseph quickly cleaned and dried them.

He looked up at her, quiet for a moment, hands still busy. “That’s a good name.”

Patricia kept crying as he checked her over, running a hand along the cord and feeling that it was still pulsating. They’d pinked up considerably in the small amount of time after delivery, only there hands and feet still tinged blue. He pressed his fingers into the inside of their arm, pleased to find a rabbit-fast heartbeat.

Her eyes moved to meet his, expression grim. “They’re going to find us.”

The cord stopped pulsing, and he reached for the clamps. “Tori-”

“Take her. Run. I’ll only slow you down.” She looked down at Patricia, listening to the shrieks of her baby.

“I’m not going to abandon you, Tori.” He cut the cord, leaving the proximal clamp on before swadling them in a blanket.

“Joseph, please.” She took the baby from him, holding them against her chest. “I just need her to be okay.”

Something struck at his heart. “I know. I know.” His eyes watered, but he fought it back. “But it's my job to make sure you both are okay, alright? Your placenta still needs to deliver and I’m not going to leave you alone for that.”

“No, no, no,” She pushed up her scrub top so that the baby could feed, hoping it would make them quiet down. “You have to go.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut o by a loud crackle of power outside in the hallway. They both flinched, Tori’s arms curling around Patricia tighter.

There was a cacophony of shouts and pounding feet. “Joseph, you need to. You have to.” She pushed Patricia towards him, expression grieving. “Please. Please.”

“No, Tori.” He shook his head. “Right now, it’s safest for us to stay here and hide, alright?”

Before she could beg again, the door blew open, flying backwards and slamming into the wall. Tori screamed, pressing the baby to her chest and encircling them with her arms. With little regard for his own safety, Joseph threw himself in front of the two, blood-soaked glove-covered fits raised, ready for a fight.

He did a double take when he realized who it was.

HAL heroes flooded into the room, medics stepping up and the rest of the room slowly emptying. Everything felt both too slow and too fast, like some sort of weird fever dream. The report fell numbly from his lips, and he too was guided away to be checked out.

His hands were sweaty and disgusting from the gloves, and they were still shaking. He felt unsteady on his legs, the exhaustion of the day nally setting in as the adrenaline ebbed. Everything felt distant and unreal, and he just wanted to go home.

They wouldn’t let him leave until after everyone had been processed and questioned, and so we had to awkwardly wait in the waiting room, holding his emotions steady. It was hard. He was so, so tired.

He fished for his phone, pulling it out and dialing one of the three numbers he had memorized. They picked up immediately.

“Hey Aaron…”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @snail-lamp @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch @rainbowsandwhumperflies

#worlds babbles #whump #childbirth #pregnancy whump #emotional whump #angst #medic caretaker #unsanitary #hostage situation #whump writing #yay it’s done! #im sorry I deeply apologize