#that will sit unopened for a while because anxiety

[soursturniolo]

Scare • Matt Sturniolo

pairing: matt sturniolo/fem!reader

summary: matt and you handle a pregnancy scare.

tags: angst and then fluff, with some humor sprinkled in. happy ending.

tw: light discussion of periods and pregnancy

It feels like my heart stops as I look at the calendar on my phone.

9 days late. And I’m never late.

I noticed this morning that my box of tampons still sat in the cabinet, unopened, in Matt and I’s shared bathroom. I hadn’t thought anything of it, until I opened my calendar to see when my next dentist appointment is.

I swallow dryly as I lock my phone and slip it back into my pocket, dropping down to sit on Matt and I’s bed. All I can think about is that damn calendar. 9 days late. 9 whole days. One or two days is normal I guess, but nine entire days?

I can feel my thoughts spiraling already. Matt and I are safe. I’m on a good birth control and we use condoms often. But even those aren’t foolproof. I do remember forgetting my pill twice this month.

Oh god. What if I’m pregnant? I’m not ready for a kid right now.

Oh god, and Matt. Matt isn’t ready either. With his career and plans with his brothers there’s no way this could even work right now. It would ruin everything. I feel tears of worry and anxiety fill my eyes and begin to drop down my cheeks.

My thoughts just continue to spiral and spiral, until I feel the bed dip next to me. I turn to see Nick, who had stayed behind with me while Matt and Chris went out to pick up some groceries.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” He asks concerned, his arm wrapping around my shoulder, pulling me into a side hug as we sat together.

I open my mouth to speak as my eyes meet his, but all that comes out is a sob. My hand moves to cover my mouth as more sobs follow. Nicks face creases in worry as his other arm wraps around me, pulling me into a hug as he rubs my back soothingly.

“Deep breaths, babe. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay,” he tells me, making me jerk back as I shake my head.

“No it won’t! He’s going to hate me!” I cry.

“If you’re talking about Matt, that kid could never hate you,” Nick tells me, voice calm and reassuring.

“I don’t know, Nick,” I laugh without humor, “this might.”

“Did you cheat?” Nick asks face calm, but apprehensive.

“No! God no,” I immediately answer.

Nick gives a small smile at the quick response.

“Okay, highly doubted it when I asked anyway,” he laughs, “but I don’t know what else could have you so upset thinking he’s going to hate you. You can talk to me, I want to help. What’s wrong?” He asks again.

I sigh. Nicks my best friend. He’s how I met Matt in the first place. I really wanted to just talk to Matt about this first, but with LA traffic and all Matt probably won’t be back for another hour. I don’t think I can survive another hour keeping this all bottled up.

“Nick, it’s bad,” I begin, voice shaken.

“I don’t care how bad, I’m here,” he immediately responds.

I take a deep breath.

“I’m late.” I state.

If this wasn’t so serious, Nicks reaction would have been funny. He stares at me blankly for a moment, before his head cocks to the side a bit in confusion.

“Like, to an appointment?” He asks, lost.

“No, Nick,” I sigh, shaking my head, “my period is late” the last part comes out like a whisper.

Once Nick connects the dots his jaw drops open a bit in surprise, confirming my feelings.

“See! It’s so bad, Nick, this is so bad!” I yell, jumping up from the bed and beginning to nervously pace in front of where Nick sits, still shocked.

“N-no, it’s not bad!” He stutters as he watches me with wide eyes.

I stop pacing and just look at him.

“Really? Not bad? Your jaw dropped open like that because you were trying to catch a fly, then?” I ask sarcastically.

“Listen, I just got confronted with the fact that my best friend and brother fuck, I needed a second,” he defends, hands up.

“Nick, we’ve been dating a year. We dont go to bed and play clash of clans together,” I tell him, making him roll is eyes.

“I know! I know but I also don’t think about it and now we kinda have to think about it and I don’t like it!” Nick exclaims.

“Don’t think about it!” I yell back.

We pause for a minute, staring at each other before we both crack smiles at how ridiculous this has become. We laugh and I return to sitting next to him. Nick wraps his arm around my shoulder again and rests his head against mine.

“So, how late are we talking?” He asks, getting back to the important point.

“9 days,” I whisper.

“Okay. Not horrible. Could be later,” he says, nodding. I nod too. A moment of silence passes as I nervously pick at my nails and Nick stares at the wall, thinking.

“Well, I think we know what we gotta do.” He says, softly.

I turn to him, knowing too.

“Let me call Matt, he should still be at the store with Chris. They can pick up a test,” Nick says. I take another shaky breath before nodding in agreement. I get my phone out and go to Matt’s contact, dialing his number before handing my phone to Nick.

“Hey baby,” Matt’s voice comes through the speaker softly.

“Hey, it’s Nick,” Nick says, earning a confused noise from Matt.

“Nick? Why do you have her phone? Is she okay?” He asks quickly, his concern making me smile softly despite the stressful situation.

“Um,” Nick pauses, which only worries Matt further.

“‘Um’, isn’t a good answer when a guy asks about his girlfriend, Nick,” Matt responds quickly.

“Sorry, she’s okay, but we need you to pick up something else for her while you’re at the store,” Nick says.

“Okay, what?” Matt asks.

Nick looks at me, encouraging me to speak. I take a breath before taking the phone out of Nicks hands, taking it off speaker and holding it to my ear.

“I need a pregnancy test,” I tell him softly.

I cringe as there’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

“Okay, I can grab that. Do you need anything else, sweetheart?” He asks softly. I smile again despite the tears I can feel coming again.

“No, that’s it,” I whisper.

“Okay, we’ll be back soon, I love you,” he tells me.

“Love you too” I say back before hanging up.

Nick and I move downstairs, where he puts on a movie for us to distract us while we wait. I let myself be pulled into its predictable plot line as we wait for Matt and Chris to come home.

We both are startled out of our focus on the movie when we hear the front door unlock, followed by it opening to reveal Matt coming in with a mostly empty plastic bag in his hand, while Chris came in carrying the other groceries. Nick moves to help Chris and grabs some of the heavier bags from him, both of them walking to the kitchen while Matt walks over to me.

I stand as he meets me by the couch. He looks surprisingly calm, while meanwhile I feel like my insides are shaking with the anxiety I’m feeling right now. He gives me a small smile before wrapping me in his arms. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I relax into his arms, resting my head against his chest. He gives me a gentle squeeze as I feel him press a kiss to my head.

“Let’s head to my room, baby,” he whispers, pulling back from the hug and grabbing my hand to lead me that way. Once in his room, he hands me the bag with the pregnancy test in it before sitting on his bed. Before walking to our bathroom, I pause.

“Matt, I need to know what this will mean,” I tell him.

He gives a small smile and holds his hand out to me. I walk over and grab it. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, before bringing it up to lips to give it a kiss.

“We’ll do it together. Whatever it is. Sure, I thought kids would be later. But, if now is the time, now is the time. I think I’d be more freaked if this was with some random girl. But with you? I know whatever happens, we will be just fine,” he tells me, before giving the back of my hand another kiss.

“You promise?” I ask.

“I swear,” he tells me.

I smile and nod, before heading to the bathroom. The test is quick and easy, and I’m soon done. I leave the test on the bathroom counter, set my timer for fifteen minutes, and come back out to sit next to Matt on our bed. I rest my head on his shoulder as Matt wraps his arm around me. We just quietly sit, both of us lost in our thoughts as we wait, only to be shaken out of our trances by my phone loudly going off.

I sigh as I stand and walk back to the bathroom to grab the test. I pick it up, careful to not flip it over to show the result, and walk back out to Matt. I stop in front of him. He gives me another reassuring smile as his hands come up to rest on my hips.

“Ready?” I ask, voice cracking.

“Yeah, baby,” he says.

I take a deep breath, knowing this small test in my hand could change everything for the both of us. But I look at Matt, looking up at me with so much warmth and comfort in his eyes, and it’s not so scary anymore.

I flip the test over, both of our eyes moving to see the result.

Negative.

“It’s negative!” I say, laughing. He smiles too, standing and pulling me into a tight hug. We both rock back and forth as we hug, feeling relief. We pull back from the hug and Matt kisses me softly. We both smile into the kiss.

After we part, we walk hand in hand out to the living room where Chris and Nick both sit. They both give us smiles when we walk in.

“So, are we going to be uncles?!” Chris yells, practically bouncing on the couch in excitement.

Matt rolls his eyes, shaking his head while I laugh.

“No, it’s negative. My periods just late, that’s all. It happens sometimes,” I tell them, almost feeling bad when Chris pouts a bit.

We spend the rest of the night laughing and watching movies together, Matt holding me snug in his arms. That night when we go to bed, Matt says something that surprises me.

“Is it bad that I was just a little disappointed?” He asks me softly.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, when you first called and asked for the test I was freaking out on the inside. But then I talked to Chris a bit and the whole drive home I thought about it. And then I thought about a little us, a mix of you and me. And as life changing as a kid right now would be, I got excited,” he says, voice soft and quiet.

I smile, leaning in to press my lips softly against Matt’s.

“We’ll have a little us someday, just not quite yet.” I tell him.

“You promise?” He asks.

“I swear.”

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Hated - Ethan Landry - Part 2

Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT. - Minors DNI

Part 1

Summary: Ethan's hated you for a while, but a little bit of time alone and a heated argument leads to something more.

A/N: Send in requests, I need the inspiration <3

As you sat down in the living room with Ethan, Chad looked back and forth between the two of you. He was suspicious, because you wanted to kill each other yesterday.

“Uh, I um,” Ethan mumbled, so you cut him off, “He was helping me get back into my school account. I locked myself out of it earlier.”

“Oh, cool. Well, the rest of the guys are coming over soon,” Chad said, as Ethan’s leg started to bounce. He wanted to have some alone time with you, and that can’t happen if the rest of the friend group comes over.

“When will they be here?” You asked, relaxing on the couch.

“In like, an hour. I’m going to leave in a few to get pizza, you guys want to come with?” Chad asked, as Ethan was struggling to sit still.

“I think I’m going to hang out here. It’s my turn to pick the movie tonight, and I need to pick the perfect one so Mindy doesn’t give me shit,” you said, exchanging a quick glance with Ethan.

“I have a ton of homework I need to work on,” Ethan said, as Chad headed to the door.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon. Don’t kill each other.”

The second Chad was out the door, Ethan was on you. You finally had to push him back, “Let’s go to your room.”

Your clothes were shed yet again, as Ethan hovered over you. “You want me to eat you out again?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. His determination to please you was so attractive.

“Shouldn’t you let me take care of you?” You asked, placing kisses along his jawline.

“As much as I’d love that, I won’t last long. I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said, moaning as you lightly bit his neck.

“Ethan, it’s okay if you don’t last long. Please don’t think you’re disappointing me, because this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you said, trying to assure him that this experience was more about him than you.

“We can do this again?” he asked, his anxiety starting to fade.

“Of course we can,” you whispered, kissing him on the tip of his nose.

He walked over to his bedside table, rummaging for the unopened box of condoms that he kept just in case. After grabbing one and putting it on, he came back over to you, resuming his place on top of you. He nudged around at your entrance, his nerves getting the best of him.

“Hey, when you put it in, go slow,” he nodded, before slowly inching his way into you. He kept watching your face, looking for any signs of discomfort. He really wanted to take care of you, and it was mind-blowing. Most guys only care about their own satisfaction when it comes to sex.

Once he was fully inside you, you nodded for him to keep going.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he said, as he continued to rock his hips into yours. It didn’t take long before you were close. He was filling you up perfectly, hitting all the right spots.

You reached your hand down to rub circles on your clit, and he felt like he could cum at the sight alone. You felt yourself tightening around him, and his eyes started to roll back.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m cumming,” you moaned, gripping his biceps as your body started to shake.

Ethan couldn’t form words as he filled the condom, the fucked-out expression on his face telling you everything you needed to know.

“Can we really do that again?” he asked as his breathing returned to normal.

“Only if you don’t start hating me again,” the small laugh that left your mouth was his new second favorite sound, the first being the way you moan.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” he said, as you both stood up to get dressed.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight: The Indoctrination of Nathan Bateman

summary: nathan lets you in.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/nsfw/minors dni, hurt comfort, sad!nathan, illusions to alcoholism, family angst, illusions to child abuse, vulnerable!nathan

wc: 1730

an: we’re back and today’s in plain sight saga lets us into nathan’s brain and background.

in plain sight masterlist | planted | little hamlet

Today starts like every other day for you. Days have melded and melted together since your mother’s death, and so today is like any other. One day at a time, that’s what Nathan had said to do. He’s been good to you. Great to you. So understanding and patient and forgiving as you navigate taking care of your sisters through this rough time. He’s been taking care of you. It’s strange to feel dependent on someone when you’ve been independent for so long.

Its stranger that that person is Nathan— he loves you, sure, he can be romantic and witty and kind. But, how he’s taken care of you over the last 3 months has been selfless, he’s been the most thoughtful person you’ve ever met. And while he had committed to growth as a person to win you over, you couldn’t have said you expected him to be so gracious. It’s a pleasant surprise. An indicator you gave the right man the right chance.

You aren’t just expecting him to wake up ready and willing to pull the weight like he has for these last few months. He’s allowed to be tired, to need space or a break to deal with his own shit and you have no issue with that. But, when you come into work today Nathan is nowhere to be found. The house is eerily quiet.

Your stomach flips a little, the alarm bells ringing in your head. But then you take a deep breath and center yourself, working that anxiety from a 7 to a 4. Because not everything has to be the fight it used to be, not with him by your side. Not with the promises he’s made to you.

Maybe he’s sat in the kitchen too wrapped up in his laptop to have realized what time it is or that you’ve arrived. When you get to the kitchen, you quickly realize that’s not the case. It's empty– clean as always, but empty. You check the coffee maker, it's loaded but not on and brewing like it usually is. You sigh, setting your bag on the dining table, mentally starting to make a game plan on finding him.

He could be many places in this neverending bunker he calls a home. Sometimes you tease him, calling him a princess locked in some ivory tower. It always gets you an eye roll, some whiny smart ass comment, and when he’s feeling particularly vindictive, some intense tickling. Those moments, like most of the moments you have with Nathan, have you ready to pinch yourself in disbelief. Believing the man you now share a life with used to be your grumpy, narcissistic boss is a mindfuck– but you chose to believe it, you choose to believe him because of how surprisingly easy it is to love him.

Turning back towards the counter, you start the coffee maker and head into the living room. You’re not surprised that he isn’t there, he would’ve said something by now. You head downstairs to the offices and work rooms, stopping in your office first. You find it empty.

The trail begins. You pop your head into every lab, ever office, every closet, nook and cranny. And eventually after expanding your search you find Nathan where you least expect him…in bed.

Curled up under his blanket, an unopened bottle of beer sitting on his nightstand. It’s dark, just the light of his alarm clock.

You step into the room, coming to rest on your knees to get a closer look at him. His eyes are open, glassy and obviously red, even in the limited light. You’ve never seen him like this. It’s like he’s seeing a ghost or maybe nothing at all. He doesn’t even move when you wave a hand in front of his face.

“Baby?” You whisper, voice colored with worry.

Nathan blinks, jumping back ever so slightly to sit up like he’s just returned from another dimension. For just a moment, there’s fear in his eyes and then he’s squeezing them shut, clenching his fist together. When his eyes finally meet yours he looks a little more like himself.

“What are you doing down here?” He asks softly, running a hand over his buzzed hair.

“I got in for work and I couldn’t find you.”

“Shit, what fucking time—“ He looks over at the clock, pinching his nose when he sees the time. “Fuck.”

“Nathan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I lost track of time. Didn’t sleep well. You know the feeling,” Nathan’s tone isn’t unkind or dismissive— it never is anymore, when it comes to you— but it is markedly avoidant.

“Nathan.”

“Honey,” He counters, rising out of bed. He reaches for the beer bottle on his nightstand, and throws it in the trash before start towards his bathroom.

“We don’t do that,” You say, following after him.

He stops just shy of the door, turning around to raise a brow at you, “Do what, honey?”

“Lie.”

“You’re accusing me of lying right now?”

You cross your arms against your chest, and for the first time in a long time, you fix Nathan with that look that initially drew him in. Nonsensical and fiery; confrontational. “I am.”

“I don’t lie. I have no reason to fucking lie.”

“Nathan, get real,” You murmur gently.

“I am real. Would you stop it with the fucking pushing?”

“When…when we first started this, I wanted to hide too. The shit with my mom, with my sisters, all the managing— I didn’t know if you’d still want me if you knew about the massive baggage. But you told me that we’re trying. Trying to be there and trying to love each other the best we can. You’ve done that for me every single day, and even more so since my mom died. I think it’s only fair if you let me do that for you too.”

Nathan looks at you like you’re some foreign object he’s seeing for the first time. Like he’s a lost, terrified puppy who’s finally receiving some care. Maybe it was silly of you to think that because your love was steady that he’d let go, that he’d open up completely. But you want him to, want him to feel utterly safe, to show you all the sides of him. That side that’s looking at you right now, skittish and broken. You love him regardless. It’s your turn to remind him of that, if he’ll let you.

“Say something. Anything,” You murmur quietly, reaching out to lace your fingers together.

His gaze falls to where your hands meet, and then he sits heavily on the bed, pulling you with him.

After a noticeable silence, several harsh breaths from him, like he’s trying to find the air to find the words he says, “Today…I fucking hate today.”

“Yeah? Tell me why it sucks, baby.”

“I don’t—honey, I don’t really…it’s their anniversary. My parents. The Batemans,” He frowns, his voice laced with disgust.

“They weren’t good to you.”

“No, they weren’t. The only person who’s ever been good to me, is me. Until I met you,” He adds, his mouth curling up in a smile.

You squeeze his hand, resting your head on his shoulder. “Why their anniversary?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, really?”

“I just want to understand you. Let me carry it with you, Nathan. You’ve done it alone long enough don’t you think?”

“Alright,” He says, his voice much harder than he means for it to be. He clears his throat, squeezes your hand in apology, and repeats, “Alright. I’m a fucking pipsqueak. I mean small, tiny, maybe like 6 or 7. It’s their anniversary and like a fucking chump, I make them a card. It takes all day. All fucking day, honey and I—“

“You what?” You encourage him gently.

“I was so fucking excited. Buzzing with it. Vibrating. Used their favorite colors, drew us all together like we were one big happy fucking family. And when I…when I gave it to them...” Nathan trails off, shaking his head. He leans further into you, desperate for some safety, some warmth so that he can keep going. Keep showing you like you want.

“They’re scum, I mean who talks to a fucking kid like that? It wasn’t fucking Picasso so it was trash. They shit all over it and I…from that day on it was like I decided to be the bigger asshole. I had to hate them more than they hated me.”

“You deserve so much better than that Nathan. Then and now, and every moment in between. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” He shrugs, running a hand over his face.

You reach for it, pushing it away so that you can cup his jaw, turn his gaze towards yours. “Then I’ll know for us. You trust me don’t you?”

Nathan’s eyes are misty, and you can tell that he’s fighting to hold his tears in. He nods, smiles a little, “With the codes to the nukes, baby.”

“Then trust me with your heart too. I promise I’ll always cherish it.”

“God, you—you’re out of this fucking world.”

“Yeah, I love you too,” You tease with a grin.

“I was gonna say that. Where’s that patience you hound me about?” He asks, pulling you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands rub at your hips tenderly, reverently.

“Misplaced,” You quip, looping your arms around his neck. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“For my birthday…make me a card?”

“Honey—“

You lean in, eyes wide and round, pressing your mouth against his as you murmur, “Please? I want it. It’s the only thing I want…well cake.”

“Don’t forget obedience.”

“You’ll give that to me anyway. Please, Nathan?”

He knows that the moment you want something, if its in his power, it’s yours. And Nathan can certainly make you a card with his bare hands. It’s one of the easiest, smallest things you’ve ever asked him for.

“Alright, fine, sure thing.”

“Do you have crayons?”

He laughs. “Do I look like a guy who owns fucking crayons?”

“We’re going to Michael’s— get dressed.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“It’s what I do. Showered, dressed. I’ll make some breakfast.”

“Hey,” He calls after you, reaching for your hand as you turn to walk away.

“Mhmm?”

“I love you,” He says firmly, bringing your hand up to his mouth.

“Ditto, baby.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333, @reallyrallyauthor

[kangaracha]

skz + losing 3racha

(this is actually written by @keepswingin, who found out i was saving this for a nevermore oneshot and said 'not if i write it first' and kicked me out of my own house)

---

The door creaks as he pushes it open, the room beyond dark and unwelcoming in a way it's never been before. Minho's not used to this - the quiet, the lack of unopened snacks sprawled throughout the room, the absence of clothes, of beanies, of half-finished verses scribbled hastily on scraps of paper or napkin or an old thank you card from a sponsor. 

The room used to be alive with his memory. Now it just sits, a void of their own making, because attempting to do anything otherwise was something Minho couldn't bring himself to do. Not then, not after, and certainly not now, even if it was the company forcing him to be in here after threatening of doing it themselves. And Minho would never let them do something like this themselves. Not now, not ever, not when it was something that concerned Jisung of all people. 

"Is this it?" she asks, attempting to peer over his shoulder. She's a ball of energy wrapped with anxiety, he could tell from the moment he met her, and he had hated it. Hated how it reminded him of Jisung, hated how it reminded him that the world around him would keep spinning even if his own had stopped still. 

"Yes," he whispers, willing his voice to stay steady. 

He takes a step inside, and can't stop his chest from hitching, the soft exhale that leaves him breathless. The bed is made, stripped of old sheets. The shelves are empty, the desk pushed into the biggest corner wiped clean and prepared with a brand new laptop sitting on top. 

She brushes past him gently and comes to a stop in the middle of the room, eyes flickering across what awaits her. Her hands squeeze into fists beside her, and Minho hears her chest hitch too, but when she turns to him, there is nothing but excitement glittering in her eyes. 

"Thank you," she says, even taking the time to bow. Minho can't bring himself to react, at least not when he's frozen like this, unable to form anything close to words as the odd feeling in his chest tightens more. "I'm so grateful your company is providing me with this opportunity, and that you guys are being so welcoming." 

She watches him for a long moment, and if she's waiting for Minho to say something, he can't, he can't, not when he's in Jisung's room with someone else and Jisung hasn't been here in months, and the last thing Minho ever said to him was something he never should have said at all, and then he was gone, they were all gone, and Minho and the rest of them were - 

"Minho-ssi?"

- left behind.

Minho blinks. He feels like he wants to scream, or cry, or not speak for a long while. "I'm sorry," he whispers, turning towards the door. "Please let us know if you need anything." He closes the door behind him just breathes a for a moment, before pressing his forehead to the wood and closing his eyes. 

He can pretend that it's Jisung shuffling around inside if he closes his eyes.

o

The room is a mess of wires and cameras as he sits off to the side in a lonesome chair, allowing a crew member of the channel they're interviewing for to clip a microphone onto the collar of his shirt. The man doesn't say much as he does, and Minho doesn't really pay attention as he leaves, his mind beginning to drift as he watches someone else struggle with fixing Seungmin's shirt in front of him.

He gets lost in a mind a lot these days, and sometimes he doesn't even realize he's lost until one of the members is gently tugging his attention back to the present, a soft look here, a gentle touch there. Too nice, for someone like Minho, who is the barbed wire thrown over a fence long forgotten. Sharp edges and a sharper tounge, once upon a time. Now, he feels like something lost in the wind, far from home. 

"Okay, we're ready to start!" The director announces, walking into the middle of the set and clapping his hands together. "I'd like to go over a few things before we begin." 

And then he waits, eyes scanning the room, like he's looking for someone in particular. He is, because he wants the leader of the group, the one in charge of Stray Kids as a whole, and Minho doesn't realize that he's talking about him until Hyunjin is beside him and gently tugging him up from the chair. 

Minho turns to him, something hot prickling in his throat. He would spit an insult, before. Now, he simply presses his lips together and allows Hyunjin to walk him over to the director with a stiff smile. 

The director waits patiently as Hyunjin apologizes on Minho's behalf, and then the older man launches into what he expects from the shoot, among some other things. Minho doesn't really listen, simply nodding his head when needed. 

He forgets to speak up, sometimes. When they're filming or out at an event that is mostly spoken in a different language he doesn't care about enough to learn. But he's had to learn, and he's had to lead, and none of it ever makes sense in his head because all he wants to do is lock himself in Jisung's room and never come back out. 

Sometimes he even goes as far as pretending that Chan is still around, only for that cavern in his chest to grow wider when he turns and finds he was never there to begin with. 

"What do you think?" the director asks, curious tone cutting through Minho's thoughts. "You know your group best." 

This isn't my group, he nearly corrects, mouth forming Chan's name like second nature. But Chan isn't here, and Chan isn't the leader of Stray Kids anymore. Lee Minho is the one in charge of the five original members, and the three new ones. 

("To keep the name relevant," a higher up had said to Minho as soon as he had asked about two girls joining with only one new boy, instead of keeping them as an all boy group. "Sales are down, and the media has finally stopped talking about the other three. We need to send a positive message of acceptance in these trying times.")

There's a rope cutting into his chest. He can't breathe. Hyunjin squeezes his shoulder, thumb pressing against his skin hard enough to hurt. It keeps him from crying. He's thankful he doesn't cry. He's not supposed to cry. 

Chan was never supposed to leave. 

"Whatever you think works best."

o

The studio is cold and bare of the energy it used to have when Changbin would be there alongside the other two, spitting curses or lyrics or swatting at whoever had decided to make fun of him in the moment. Now it's home to a revolving door of producers that Minho never likes. 

Some bring lyrics that are too disconnected for singles. Others merely want to pander to the girls, offering them notes that Seungmin and Jeongin were more than capable of nailing themselves. The b-sides don't flow like they used to, and far too many of them are disjointed and heavy in rapping that's too heavy for songs meant to be light. 

The chorography is the only thing that stays the same after all this time, the one thing Minho can still throw himself into without having to think. He's given Hyunjin and Felix more work to do in having to train two girls with left feet, though the new guy wasn't too bad, but they never complained. 

"Good," this producer tells him, waving a hand with a small smile. "That's all your lines." 

Minho wants to say something, anything. He wants to record the whole thing, strain his letters less, hit that note like how he should be able to. But the words well up in his throat, and nothing comes out. 

He nods, and murmurs his thanks as he pulls the headset off. 

The booth is too quiet. The producer is too quiet. 

Everything is too quiet without a voice to tie all of it together. 

o

He stands on the bridge and watches the boats as they pass underneath him, the wind stinging at his cheeks. Every breath fills his chest with cold air, and it keeps him here, and awake, and alive, as he watches the lights of the city blink and flicker in the distance. 

Minho had brought Jisung here, years ago. They had talked for hours, standing on the edge of the universe, even if it was nothing more than the pathway of a bridge. He had smiled so much that his cheeks had hurt, and Jisung's laughter had been the sweetest thing he had ever heard. Minho had hugged him - pulled him close and buried his face in the crook of his neck, stayed there until forever was something he thought possible. 

"I'll never forget you," he whispers against the next breeze, hoping it will carry his words to wherever they were, wherever Jisung was. "I don't think I ever could." An exhale that rattles his bones. "I don't want to." 

He closes his eyes. Listens to the wind, and the waves, and the beat of his own heart. 

Something warm wraps around him, squeezing him tight. It feels like someone he knows. He doesn't open his eyes, afraid to shatter whatever illusion his mind has created this time. And then a hitch of breath, and a small, raspy voice, whispering close to his ear. 

"You don't have to." 

[bloodycherry22]

Hello, can I request an Ellie x female reader fanfic? If you could add something about reader being confused because she thought she was only attracted to men, but she realizes that she feels something for Ellie too, it’d be great! You could totally add smut if you want, or do it fluffy, it’s up to you :)

I think? | Ellie Williams

Genre: fluff

Summary: While on patrol, everything starts to fall into place, the way her touch made you melt, the way her smile warmed your heart, it all made sense in that moment.

Warnings: Cussing, gayness? i dunno pure fluff, Ellie and reader are both pretty shy.

Thank you so much for the request lovely anon! Hope this is okay. Its pretty short and i merged another request of a food fight into this. requests still open <3

Not proofread

Kicking your boot lightly against the leather material sat upon your horse, you found yourself unable to focus, the sound of her breathe hitching lightly as the horse sped up in reaction to your touch. Her fingertips grasping on to the material of your thick coat, she wasn't even touching you and it still caused a shiver to run through your body. Winter had hit, and hard at that.

Ellie had been staying with you for a week or so, some houses having been snowed in and with the temperatures so low, and limited equipment, it was a slow process. The domesticated routine with her changed everything, it started to be your new normal, and you were beginning to dread the day her house was warm enough to live in again.

This morning, a new, thicker anxiety was stuck in your chest, having barely slept a wink the night before, deep in thought. About her, always her, she was keeping you up. Not physically, she slept on the couch, but mentally, its like she had taken over your life.

Sitting on a couch together now seemed different, the way her knees had brushed against yours underneath the thick blanket. You craved to be touched by her, loved by her. It was completely new, sending a slight guilt to your mind. You had never liked girls in the past so why now?

The sound of her voice managed to snap you out of your daydream as her finger gently tapped your shoulder. "stop here, last time i saw some supplies through the window" Her voice was shaky, presumably from the cold. Acknowledging her, you came to a halt. She carefully got off the horse and held her hand out for you, when you took it, it was hard to ignore the way she turned away and scrunched her nose ever so slightly, a light tint of pink along her cheeks.

It brought a nervous smile to your face as you hopped off, letting her hand go to tie up the horse to a nearby tree. "you think this winter will calm down any time soon?" you asked, turning to her, both of you walking towards the building, knife in hand, as i it had become muscle memory.

"why? sick of me already?" She snickered, sending you a smirk. With a scoff, you nudged her, quietly entering the building. No spores to be seen, it was quite ope, only appearing to have a few empty tables and a counter, It was most likely a cafe or restaurant of sorts. There was a single runner behind the counter, almost silently, you drive the knife into its neck before turning to her "not at all" you smiled.

She seemed content with your response before she put her blade away, already picking up some objects and examining them. "to answer your question, i think its only gonna get colder, we aren't even near the cold months yet" she sighed.

"months? since when do we keep track of the date?" you asked, examining some of the food dates carefully. She just chuckled "since maria found some old kids calendar" she said

"of fucking course she did" you laughed lightly, picking up a surprising item and holding it in the air "catch!" you shouted, throwing it. she caught the object, eyes flickering over it. It was a nutella jar. magically seeming unopened and safe to eat. She gasped "holy shit" she smiled, walking over to one of the tables and taking a seat. Within seconds you were beside her, with two old spoons.

Both of you quietly giggled as she opened the jar and took a spoon, dipping it into the jar and eating some of it. You did the same and both of you shared a happy reaction. "crazy to think they used to just have this stuff all the time, and all that fast food..so jealous"

You nodded and leaned back into the seat, sighing "jealousy" you whined dramatically and she laughed lightly in response. she suddenly dipped her finger into the chocolate and wiped some over your nose. you gasped and looked at her wide eyed "bitch" you did the same and she just scoffed "oh your on"

The next ting you knew you were both on the floor, laughing messes as she had the messier face, graciously you had her pinned down, straddling her waist, sure your hands were covered in nutella but her face was worse. Both of you panted softly and found yourselves staring into each others eyes. And there that guilty feeling was again, you shouldn't see her that way, but she just looked so pretty.

She seemed to grasp that you were lost in thought, nudging your knee gently to get your attention as she sat up. Now you were basically sat on her lap, thighs either side of hers. Her eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, licking her own as she did so. "Ellie i-"

"shut up" she mumbled and pressed her lips against yours, the anxiety bubbling away almost instantly as you leaned into the touch, her hands flying to your waist. After a few seconds she pulled back and looked at you, both filthy and giddy. She just laughed, so did you and the situation suddenly felt comfortable, like it was right, you did like her.. and that was okay.

[silversatin2105]

I'd love for a fic on Baji x fem reader who is struggling with depression and anxiety (the way he takes care of everyone is so sweet)

Hi

Yeah I can write that situation, I do hope that my Interpretation of how depression can manifest is accurate to what you were requesting if not I can reword it upon request and without further delay I present the scenario to you.

Trigger warnings:

Depression

Anxiety

“ a problem shared is a problem halved”

Keisuke Baji X Fem-Reader who suffers from depression and anxiety Scenario:

You had always suffered from bouts of low moods, hell to you it felt normal and during times of high stress they manifested itself more intensely, you’d loose all interest in your public image, you’d neglect bathing, you’d stay up super late just distracting yourself with any little pointless thing, burning yourself alive emotionally because you accepted this a the norm, however you had this loving beast of a guy who knew your tells and when to tell you “No stop it …its enough” and one morning he did this for you.

It was a dreary Monday afternoon, it was raining outside and you had just gotten up from what pitiful amount of sleep you managed to muster, you yawned and shambled into the kitchen of where you lived in Harajuku, you pulled your phone from your pocket and looked at the screen with your tired eyes, dark circles from too many nights stressing over the littlest thing, as you scrolled though unopened texts your phone began to ring and a famillar name appeared in the caller ID, your guy “Keisuke Baji”.

“Hey there Y/N been a few days since you contacted me, How’s it going?” Keisuke inquired in a slightly worried tone as you answered the call, You didn’t know what to say, you had done it again, unintentionally you ghosted him, you came out of your brain fog and began lightly crying as you began to speak.

“H-hello Kei..im…” you began to speak, it didn’t take Keisuke long to notice that your voice was monotone, that you sounded tired and with that he knew what to do, he needed to get you out for some fresh air, to stop you from burning out any further, to cheer you up and help you smile again, within five minutes it turned from a phone call to full blown plans for an impromptu date as Keisuke told you to be ready in 30 minutes, that he was coming over.

Whatever you had planned for that day was cancelled, not that you were planning on doing anything amazing and if you protested he knew that you needed out of the house even if it was for an hour, you sat on the backseat of his bike as he drove you through the streets of Tokyo, the destination a zoo in Tokyo.

You both walked through the zoo, Hand in hand as he could sense your unease and apathy to the whole situation , you both looked at the animals and in the enclosures and their fuzzy little faces appeared to cheer you up.

“Hey Dear..(one of his names for you) they even have a petting Zoo…lets go see it !” Keisuke chimed in knowing your fondness of small fuzzy animals and within space of no time you were sitting inside the petting zoo with a small grey rabbit in your arms as you pet its little head you started to feel a little bit more like your usual self, a small smile on your face as Keisuke sat with a little brown rabbit on his lap.

“That rabbit is cute, just like you” Keisuke complimented you with his usual toothed grin, to a degree it did cheer you up but it was early days, you were still far from a ball of light but you seemed brighter even after one date and so for the foreseeable you and Keisuke had little meet ups just like this on the fly even if he had to blow off Toman meetings, he’d just have Chifuyu take notes for him, big bear hugs were a must along with breaks from stressful things, He even brought you manga to read and would give you positive affirmations everyday.

It took a while for that spark in your soul to return but with unconditional love and care from Keisuke it came back and little by little you smiled more, you laughed more and hung out with the gang of lunatics Keisuke hung out with a little more, after a while all of first division called you comrade, Keisuke and his friends were a little different but with their gentle encouragement and Keisuke’s unconditional and unending love you had found a support network albeit a one that was built different.

END SCENE

[tiniedemon]

— ♡

the waiting game | smau

part ten

you checked your appearance in the mirror for the millionth time, moving any stray strands of hair to their designated location and using a small beauty blender to pat out any flaws in your makeup. you were determined to look absolutely gorgeous for kyle, taking nearly three hours to get yourself ready. you carefully pulled your outfit on — a simple black top, black leather jacket, and dark wash jeans — and smoothed it over your body. bebe’s words echoed in your mind, reminding you how good you looked in black.

after one more glance in the mirror, an assured nod, and a practiced flirty smile, you decided you were ready. just in time, apparently, because the second you zipped up the boots you’d decided to wear, kyle’s modified exhaust could be heard stopping in front of your house. you took a deep breath to steady your heart and grabbed your phone and wallet, rushing down the stairs and out of the house.

kyle looked just as gorgeous as he always did, his red curls shining in the evening sun and sunglasses perched effortlessly on the bridge of his hooked nose. you made a mental note of how delicious his arms looked in the tight long sleeve he was wearing, and how the light grey fabric seemed to make his skin glow. the more you thought about it, the more you kicked yourself for being so ridiculously infatuated with him.

he looked up from his phone as you opened the door, flashing a giant smile of straight teeth and faint chin dimples. you smiled back, albeit a bit shaky with how nervous you were, and plopped down in his passenger seat.

“you look gorgeous,” he spoke, and you flushed. how did such a beautiful man even dare to compare himself with little ole you? you cleared your throat and fingered the zipper on your wallet, refusing to make eye contact with kyle.

“i think you look gorgeous too,” you stuttered, kicking yourself for how unsteady your voice was. you knew that if bebe were here she’d have blown a gasket hearing how much you let a man affect you.

“i was thinking we could go out by stark’s pond for pictures? the lighting there is always super pretty this time of day,” kyle offered, wiggling the gear shifter before letting his hand break down. you nodded vigorously, finding that you couldn’t trust your voice not to crack. kyle hesitated for a moment, a slight chuckle filling the silence, before he turned up the volume on his stereo and drove away from your house.

you looked around the car as he drove, noting the unopened box of condoms sitting in the cup holder and the nic stick settled under his leg. there was a dab pen resting with the box of condoms, and by the redness of his eyes and the silly smile consistently resting on his face, you guessed he’d been hitting it pretty recently. a few hair ties were hanging from one of the levers extended from his steering wheel. you made a mental note to leave a scrunchie of yours there at a later date.

overall the car was nice for an older model, the drive smooth and the speakers sounding pretty good. plus, you couldn’t deny that kyle driving a manual was extremely attractive. you couldn’t keep your eyes from straying to the way the veins in his forearms popped out every time he shifted.

you brought your nic stick to your lips, taking a long bit to curb the anxiety you were fighting. you couldn’t begin to explain why, but something about being alone with kyle left you feeling queasy. the butterflies in your stomach were nonstop fluttering about, and you were absolutely certain bebe would scold you for using that terminology.

while you were fighting your lusting inner demons, kyle had pulled into the small dirt road leading to stark’s pond. your keen eye picked up on the way he wiped his hands on his light wash jeans before turning to you with a grin. he picked up his dab pen and offered it to you, you taking a long pull from it as he spoke.

“i’m not really sure how this whole photography thing works, but i was thinking we just take a walk and see what kind of pictures you come out with?”

you nodded as soon as he finished speaking, already setting your wallet in the glove compartment as you coughed away the sting from the cart you’d just hit. you made a mental note of the ring settled on kyle’s left ring finger as he handed you his wallet to also place in there. a purity ring, maybe? you were a bit pleased by the thought. at least he wasn’t walking around slinging dick at other girls.

“that sounds like a lovely idea,” you finally responded, voice hoarse and eyes watery from your coughing fit. the two of you were out of the car in seconds, your phone out and camera open as you already started snapping pictures of his face. he raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, a flush gathering on his cheeks and neck. you silently admired the smattering of faint freckles disappearing beneath the neckline of his shirt.

“we haven’t even started walking. why are you already taking pictures?” he stammered, ears glowing red. you grinned at him from behind your phone, a group of butterflies pressing against the walls of your stomach.

“with a model as pretty as you, candids are the absolute perfect way to photograph you,” you responded. he cleared his throat and slowly turned to walk away from you, raising a hand over his shoulder and using two fingers to wave you along behind him. you thanked the gods that you had managed to capture a picture of that, making plans to stare at it and giggle later. you didn’t dally about for much longer than two seconds, obediently jogging to catch up with his much longer stride.

masterlist

[judgementdaysunshine]

Stoned out

Pairing: Sasha Banks x Fem reader x Bayley

Description: After finding you high, Bayley and Sasha take care of you

You giggle while watching tv and swaying side to side, you feel calm after smoking a joint and taking an edible. You had bad anxiety and sometimes you would smoke weed or have an edible to calm your nerves, Sasha and Bayley walk in to hear your laughs upstairs smiling but end up bursting out laughing when they see your state laying on a pillow giggling uncontrollably and swaying as you feel relaxed, warm in your chest, and as if you were floating when you closed your eyes even just for a second, you smile and wave when you see your girlfriends in the doorway of the bedroom before sasha sits down with warm takeout Burger King while bayley went downstairs to get you a drink "Ok, where are we?" you giggle as you eat french fries "Our bedroom" you sway slower as you eat while sasha sits next to you "What are we eating?" you smile while eating more before wiping ketchup off your mouth. "Burger King you got on the way home" she nods as you eat and thank bayley who hands you a cold soda and water "What are we gonna drink?" you lay the unopened water bottle down as you drink soda with bayley beside you while sasha showered and changed "Water" she shakes her head as she sits beside and watches you while both of you eat "Because we drank?" you slowly feel the warmth flutter away and calm down slowly as you talk with bayley and eat "Soda!" she laughs before going to the bathroom to shower and change while sasha stays with you again "You feeling fine?" you nod as you eat your burger and wrap yourself in a blanket while watching sensory videos of fruits dancing not knowing that she was recording you as you danced and giggled quietly before bayley came back out and laughed sitting on the other side of you as you come down from the high and feel yourself slowly falling asleep while laying your head on sasha's chest while bayley's arms were wrapped around your waist.

[disgruntledkittenface]

Thank you @hellolovers13​ and @neondiamond​ for tagging me! I loved reading your answers to these questions.

1. Number of stories posted to AO3 this year: 11

with love on the line

i get so lost inside your eyes

still, somehow

like sun on the rise

subverting expectations

Darling, so it goes

baby, you’re the end of june

The Referral

something to dream about

enough to make a girl blush

make you mine this season

2. Word count posted for the year: 288,979

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction

4. Pairings: Nick/Harry/Louis, Niall/Zayn, Liam/Louis, Nick/Harry, Harry/Louis, Louis/Harry/Tom Hardy, Niall/Louis, Zayn/Harry, Nick/Louis

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: baby, you’re the end of june

Bookmarks: Darling, so it goes

Comments: make you mind this season

the rest under the cut!

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): Darling, so it goes. I’m proud of myself for finishing it, because it took about three years to research and write and I had about three bouts of horrible writer’s block on it during that time. And I’m proud that it’s exactly what I wanted to write and that I posted it even though I wasn’t sure if people would respond to it. It has the heart and warmth that I try to infuse my writing with. It’s me, on a page. 

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): something to dream about. I still feel like reworking it, even though it posted in October. I don’t think it’s bad, but I think it could be better.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: I would say this year it was the experience of posting make you mine this season and getting comments and reactions every day. I’ve never had people engaging with a fic that way because I’ve never posted a wip before. I gave myself some anxiety a few times (Will people be mad I didn’t write the scene with Louis’ family?? Is this zarry ending the kind of happy people want???) but everyone was so kind and lovely and it really made my heart grow three sizes.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: It’s kind of hard right now. I don’t feel very motivated or excited about writing, even though I really like my current wip. I think it’s because I’m having a hard time at work, it’s kind of killing my motivation to do anything, I just want to curl up on the couch and self soothe all day.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: In enough to make a girl blush, I thought it would be more of a slow burn before I got to the smut, but truly the first time the Louis and Niall characters hung out, they wanted to hook up right away, so that’s what they did!

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: from like sun on the rise

“I don’t know if like is a strong enough word,” she confesses, continuing to open boxes so she doesn’t have to look at Louis while she spills her guts. “Like… if that was anyone else trying to talk to me about casting a circle, whatever that means, I would think they were full of shit. But with Harry, it’s like I can tell she really means it, you know? And I start to think, oh, maybe it’s not so bad, I guess I get how that might be comforting to believe in.”

“Whoa.” Louis stops unpacking the box and just looks at Nick.

“I know! It’s like, who am I?” Nick stops working too and sits on one of the unopened boxes. “With every other girl I’ve had a crush on, I’ve always kind of mentally edited out the stuff I didn’t like about them. You know? Like remember Ariana?”

“Yeah, she was hot.”

“So hot, and funny and cool and smart and–”

“Pretentious.”

“So fucking pretentious,” Nick agrees, running a hand through her hair. “So I kind of just ignored that part. That way, I could still have a crush on her.”

Louis shrugs, laughing. “Been there.”

“But Harry.” Nick blows out a breath. “Harry is different. All of her weird stuff, like auras and spells and whatever – that’s exactly the type of thing that I would usually just ignore. I do this all the time, I get a crush for a few weeks, I ignore some stuff, maybe we go out a couple of times, and then it ends because they were all wrong for me. But with Harry, everything I learn about her just makes me like her more. It’s… intense. And I know I haven't known her that long, but I’m starting to think that maybe this isn’t just a crush.”

“So why do you look sick to your stomach? Isn’t this a good thing?”

“But what if she doesn’t like me back?”

“Nick.” Louis levels her with a look. “Are you serious?”

“Is that a rhetorical question, or–”

“Of course she fucking likes you back,” Louis says, turning back to the opened box next to her and unearthing a bag of filters. “She’s been coming here to study every time you have a shift. You text constantly when you’re not together. You speak in shorthand, you two don’t even need to finish sentences around each other.”

“So you think–”

“I know she likes you. And listen, Nick,” Louis says, looking over her shoulder, “don’t fucking hurt her, okay? Or you’ll have me to deal with.”

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: By trying different things! I love challenging myself that way. I wanted to see if I could good alpha/omega girl direction smut (and I think I did!). And I wrote my first advent fic! After I came up with the basic idea, I had to think about how to pace two stories and interconnect them and keep each chapter short enough so people could read along if they wanted to, and I’m really happy with how it turned out.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: By continuing to try new things!

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): I have SO MANY positive influences, truly my little community is an embarrassment of riches. I’m going to say @queenofquiet17​ who doesn’t even go here but always cheerleads my fics and helps me when I need it. She gave me a lot of suggestions for queer literature to include in make you mine this season, and then for my birthday she went to the bookstore from the fic and bought three of the books for me! When I opened the package, I cried. She always makes me feel like I’m part of the queer community and like I’m enough, and that means so much to me. 

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: I wrote still, somehow after my husband trimmed my split ends for me. I was in the middle of a depressive episode and I didn’t realize until I was writing in Liam’s voice that I felt guilty about it, even though it’s not something my husband would ever resent me for.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Take each piece of writing advice with a grain of salt. Something that works for one person might not work for another. If you want to use adverbs, use adverbs. Write for yourself. 

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I definitely feel more excited about the american tragedy au idea after posting about it, so I might actually attempt it this year even though it’s a darker idea and my fics always end up being nicer than I think they will.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@uhoh-but-yeah-alright​ @homosociallyyours​ @louandhazaf​ @kingsofeverything​ @wabadabadaba​ @littleroverlouis​ @onesweetworld18​ @brightgolden​ @absoloutenonsense​ @allwaswell16​

[pjunicornart]

Potential Meet the Robinsons Fic...?

Okay, so I have an idea for a Meet the Robinsons fanfiction. I've actually had this idea for a while, but I'm not sure if people would be interested considering the Meet the Robinsons fandom is pretty much classroom sized... However, I figured I'd at least make a post about it with basic ideas and concepts.

Here's the basic premise: The fic will be called "Agoraphobic". Agoraphobia being a type of anxiety disorder characterized by an individual not wanting to leave environments they deem or know are safe.

Lewis is 16. He hasn't gone to school in four years. After what happened while he was at the science fair... he doesn't want to. The offers and scholarships he received that week while he was mourning still sit on his desk, unopened. He life boils down to staying in his room all day, with the shades covering the windows and his computer all spiffed up to play video games. He has a bathroom, a bed, a phone, a computer... he's fine. Except.

Lewis suffers from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder [OCD]. Because Lewis has OCD, his brain is constantly in an anxiety loop. He'll get an intrusive thought he doesn't want, and it persists. He feels the anxiety like he's in danger or that he's a bad person, and his brain will tell him a compulsion to do to be safe or good again. He does that compulsion, and he gets that temporary relief. But then it goes right back to square one, and he's always in a constant, vicious loop. He's not currently being treated for any of this... so you can imagine how exhausted he is each day.

You may be wondering where Lucille and Bud are in all of this. Well, they adopted Lewis pretty soon after the incident - just 9 months later. But they weren't expecting Lewis to be so... difficult. They don't mean to sound - well, mean. But they had this ideal vision of things, and then the reality hit them like a truck (I'm sure we can all relate to that feeling). Every time they've tried to get Lewis out of his room or tried to connect with him, it's met with silence. Bud has pretty much left any thoughts of connecting with Lewis behind. Lucille however still believes there's hope. She just has to give him a chance.

[TL;DR] This Meet the Robinsons fic will focus on a version of Lewis with severe OCD and trauma relating to a pretty heavy "incident", and because of this he stays in his room all day. Lucille still has hope for her adoptive son. Over time, he will heal from these metaphysical wounds.

I'm still on the fence about writing this thing, since it's been a long while since I've tried my hand at writing fanfiction (it's been 5 years, lol). But I can't deny that it's an interesting idea. For me, at least. Maybe you can tell me what you think.

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tti episode 8

“Last time on Total Takes Island: the teams set out on a lovely canoe trip to scenic Bony Island, where they carried their boats over two miles of treacherous jungle, featuring man-eating beavers and a few grumpy geese. O’s anxiety got the best of him, and he cost his team not one, but four players. While Ass and Courtney were busy tearing their team apart, Michael and Max were the only ones keeping theirs together. Ultimately, the Fujoshis one, and O took the walk of shame- O no! Haha. I wrote that one myself. Will the Fujoshis keep up their winning streak? Will Julia ever get over her crippling fear of geese? Find out now- on Total! Takes! Island!”

Early in the morning just outside Camp, Sha-Mod and McLovin sit on the beach, building a sand mansion together and speaking in hushed tones (though no one else is up yet).

“And, I dunno, they’re both great, but I get the vibe they don’t like each other, ya know?” McLovin says, picking up a sand dollar. 

“I can’t blame Courtney. That Ass is sha-bad news, they didn’t even apologize for crinkling my Lightning!” he exclaims, pointing to the slightly-indented photo of Lightning over his face. “They’ve been a real problem since Mal left.”

“Maybe for you,” McLovin sighs. “Since Mal’s been gone, I’ve had TWO chicks on my tail! I know I’m a catch, but geez, man!”

“Well, as long as I’m here, we can stay partnering up!” Sha-Mod announces, pointing at himself. “Avoid all the girl drama, you know?”

“Thanks, bud, I knew I could count on you,”

Sha-Mod nods as a voice blares over the intercom. “Campers! Get your white-tailed butts in gear and meet me in the mess hall for your deer-ly exciting challenge! Ahaha, I am on FIRE today!”

The intercom crackles off and McLovin and Sha-Mod give each other a perplexed expression. 

The mess hall is almost entirely silent as the campers yawn and stretch, tending to bug bites and trying to down the bitter coffee from Chef’s breakfast ensemble. 

Scruffy carries a tray back to the Anon’s table, making a point to sit away from Michael as Julia, on her left side, glares daggers in everyone else’s direction. Max comes next, making fleeting eye contact with Michael before sitting on the other side of Scruffy. 

---

MICHAEL: “I really don’t get it. Just when I thought we were starting to get along, he gives me the cold shoulder! After I saved his ass, too! Maybe Julia was right…”

---

Staci sits on the other side of Michael instead, smiling brightly and spooning the apple sauce-like substance Chef was serving. “So… has anyone kin-assigned you two yet?”

Julia raises an eyebrow. “Has anyone what?”

“Oh, you know how I’m literally Staci from Revenge of the Island? I’ve been helping everyone on the team find their inner kins, too! Well… I haven’t told them yet, but I’ve been keeping a list,” Staci grins, pulling out a thick, fuzzy pink diary and dropping it on the table. “Ok, so, Max is Scarlett from Pahkitew (ironically, hah), Scary is Scary Girl from the 2023 reboot, Scruffy is Sierra… hmmm,”

Staci takes a moment to scan the two girls over, judging their facial expressions and body language before smiling and nodding. “Gwen and Heather,”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s the standard loner and popular mean girl dynamic, duh,”

Michael rolls her eyes. “Not to rain on your parade, but doesn’t this whole kin-assigning thing feel like yet another way to be forcibly labeled based off of surface-level traits?”

“That’s such a Gwen answer,”

“Okay, I’m outta here,” Michael says, climbing over the bench. 

Chris suddenly ducks inside the hall, grinning widely. “Hope you’re all enjoying your breakfast, campers, because this challenge is gonna be a doozy! Outside, you'll find your supplies for today’s, um, adventure,”

The campers look nervous and stand, following Chris outside to where two large crates are waiting, unopened. Scruffy shakes their head. 

“Today’s challenge is a personal favorite of mine: hunting!” he beams, opening a crate and pulling out a neon pink paintball gun. “Unfortunately, due to province law, I can’t give you anything more powerful than paint without getting everyone a license, which sounds boooring!” he tosses the paintball gun to Courtney. 

“Welcome to the second ever paintball deer hunt! Now, normally, I’d assign hunters and deer for you, but I think it’d be funnier to watch you all sort it out. You have five minutes to decide who’s hunting- and who’s being hunted!”

The teams give each other anxious glances as Chris walks away. 

Courtney turns to the Fujoshis and tosses the gun in their hands to Sha-Mod. 

---

COURTNEY: “Believe it or not, I am a very non-confrontational person. My strategy from the beginning has been the fly under the radar and focus on defense rather than offense. Hunting? No can do. But I can hide!”

---

“If Sha-Mod is a hunter, I wanna be a hunter, too!” McLovin yells, waving his hand around. Courtney shrugs and tosses him a gun from the crate. 

“Oh, me, too. Those little deer outfits are terrible,” Ass nods. Courtney hesitates for a moment, gun still in their hands until Caesar butts in. 

“Um, no. I’m not getting paint on this suit. Gun me, please,” he extends his hands. 

“I was first!”

“Rock paper scissors for it?”

Both hold their palms flat in front of them and tap their fists against them three times. As Ass throws scissors, Caesar walks behind them and takes the gun and safety glasses from Courtney. 

“Hey! I thought we were playing for that!”

“What are you, five?” Caesar chuckles. “Come on, Bonbon, let’s go find somewhere quiet.”

Bonnie adjusts the deer tail and antler headband before walking off into the woods with Caesar. Ass sighs, but puts on the accessories with Courtney without another complaint. McLovin and Sha-Mod fist-bump, and then run into the woods together. 

“Obviously, I’ll be taking one of these,” Max says, picking a neon blue gun from the crate. “Let’s see… Scary?”

Scary growls at him, but accepts their paintball gun and safety gear anyway before bounding off into the woods, giggling. 

“Hm…” Max surveys the rest of the team. “S-”

“I volunteer!” Staci yells, waving their hand in the air. “My aunt’s husband’s grandfather taught me how to shoot, and my great-great-great-”

“Alright! Just take it!” Max shoves the gun into their arms. “Anyone else?”

Michael smiles, and opens her mouth. “I-”

“Kelly!” Max says, tossing them the gun before pointing ahead and walking straight past Michael. “Alright, let’s move out.”

---

MICHAEL: “...am I crazy? Am I going insane? Is that it? Did I just imagine everything?!”

---

MAX: “Michael is a liability to the team. She’s a good player, but she’s distracting me. I mean, she’s a distraction,” he pauses, crossing his arms and glaring at the camera. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

---

“Does this tail make my arse look big, baby?” Austin asks, looking around his back. 

“Yes, dear,” Kelly says, loading their gun with blue paintballs. 

“Groovy!” 

The two walk through the woods, holding hands and paying little attention to their surroundings. The morning sun shines through the foliage above as they enter a clearing. 

“Wanna help me practice?” Kelly smiles, finishing up on their gun. 

---

Austin takes a bite out of the apple Kelly handed him before putting it on his head and standing still with his back against a tree. 

Kelly holds the gun’s aim up to her left eye, closing her right and taking aim. 

“Are you sure this is safe, baby?”

“Yeah, I saw it in a movie once,” 

“Well, in that case, fire away!” Austin beams, putting his hands on his hips.

Kelly readjusts the gun once again and aims, then re-aims it, before finally pulling the trigger. 

Click. 

Nothing happens. Austin keeps smiling, still frozen in place. “I’m waiting, baby!”

Kelly pulls the trigger again- still, nothing. They frown and lower the gun. “I think this one’s jammed or something,” 

Austin slouches and the apple rolls off his head. He walks over and Kelly hands him the gun, which he inspects thoroughly by looking straight down the barrel. “I don’t see anything, baby,”

“Maybe it’s the trigger. What’re we gonna do?”

Austin thinks for a moment. “Let’s go ask someone for help. I’m sure they’ll be willing to lend a hand!”

The two hear some rustling from a few bushes nearby and turn, look at each other, and then peek out of the clearing onto the path from which the noise came. 

“I don’t know, I guess I thought we were friends,” Michael sighs, crossing her arms against her chest and leaning against a tree. Her usual parka is tucked somewhere back at camp so as to avoid getting paint on it, leaving her in a black tank top. Julia sits on a rock beside her, picking at her cuticles. 

“Yeah, well, you get what you pay for. I tried to tell you he has a stick up his butt,”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” 

Kelly and Austin step through the foliage, smiling. “Hey, girls!” Kelly laughs nervously. 

Julia and Michael both raise an eyebrow. 

“We were wondering if you cool cats could lend us some advice,”

Julia’s “No” and Michael’s “What’s up?” overlap, but Austin continues nonetheless.

“Our thingy is straight jammed, baby, very ungroovy,”

“Um… well, I can take a look at it,” Michael shrugs. “No guarantees I’ll know what to do, though.”

“Yeah, have fun with that. I’m gonna go to the kitchen, I’m starving,” Julia says, starting off down the trail. Michael takes the gun from Kelly, looking it over before nodding. 

“Your safety is still on,” she says, taking it out and handing the paintball gun back to Kelly before a rustling from the bushes behind them grabs their attention. All three turn- Kelly aims the now-working gun and fires a few shots into the woods, hitting nothing. 

“Save your ammo-” Michael starts before a round of paintballs hits her in the stomach. “Aw, man, what the hell!”

Sha-Mod and McLovin giggle from behind the bushes, crouching down army-style while they reload. “Hit her again!” McLovin smirks. 

“Uh, shouldn’t we sha-try for the other players, too?”

“We will, I just love seeing that dumb look on her face!”

“Can’t sha-argue with that!” 

Sha-Mod fires at Michael again, practically coating her in pink from the neck-down. “You got me, alright! Jesus!”

McLovin suddenly springs up, aiming his gun and firing at Austin, who grabs Michael’s shoulders and uses her as a shield. 

“What the hell!” she yelps. Austin smiles apologetically and then runs into the woods with Kelly, leaving Michael dripping in pink. 

---

“I’m honestly kinda surprised that the network let you on, man,” Scruffy says, taking notes as they and Frollo walk down the trail. “Usually TV syndicates don’t like having religious views expressed on teen shows.”

“It was God’s will to have me spread his word on this program,” Frollo answers plainly. Scruffy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else as the two walk down the trail. 

---

Frollo sits in the confessional, reading his Bible in complete silence.

---

Caesar offers Bonnie a stick of gum, which they accept. The two are sitting in a sunny flower patch at the mouth of a small pond, a crystal-clear waterfall pouring fresh water from the rock formation above. 

“Who knew nature could be so tolerable?” Caesar sighs, kicking back with his hands behind his head. Bonnie nods in agreement. “If only the woods had a wifi connection, this would be paradise,”

A sudden rustling in the woods beyond catches both of their attention and Caesar jumps up, clumsily holding the gun and stepping in front of Bonnie. He peers through the tall bushes surrounding the oasis and sees Scruffy and Frollo walking the trail, then chuckles. 

“Revenge is a dish best served pink,” he takes aim just in time for Frollo to notice, turning and holding up his Bible like a shield. 

Caesar shoots, hitting the book several times as Scruffy hits the deck and army crawls behind a nearby log. The intensity of the paint pellets eventually causes Frollo to stumble backwards, falling next to his walk-buddy. 

“Hey!” Bonnie shouts. 

Caesar whips around, but it’s too late. Staci shoots Bonnie three times in the chest, leaving them covered in blue. 

“Bonbon, NO!” he shouts, extending a hand for them to catch as they dramatically fall backwards. Time seems to slow down as the two reach for each other, but Caesar slips, falling on his paintball gun and crushing it, and Bonnie simply lands on their butt, unscathed. 

“Haha! That’s for great-great-great uncle Teddy, suckers!” Staci shouts before running off into the woods. 

---

“I think I hear something, man,” Sha-Mod whispers, holding a finger to Lightning’s lips and pressing his ear against the rocky formation, as if trying to hear through it. 

He then nods. “Sounds like those two girls from the other team- or maybe one of those girls and that little guy,” 

McLovin follows his footsteps, also listening in. “Sounds like a cave. Let’s corner them!”

The two fist bump and jog around to the other side of the stone hill, stopping and leaning against the very outer corners of the mouth of a large cave. The echoes of two high-pitched voices follow, though their dialogue is too jumbled to make out. 

“On three,” Sha-Mod whispers. “One- 

-Two-

-Three!”

McLovin and Sha-Mod come running in, screaming and brandishing their weapons like machine guns, shooting everywhere except for their targets. Sha-Mod runs further, crashing into the two shadowy figures at the back of the cave and sending all three to the floor. 

“HEY!” Courtney shouts. 

Ass hisses. "Nice going, genius!"

Sha-Mod opens his eyes, his expression changed to one of pure terror. He immediately jumps back to his feet as Courtney and Ass groan, and then stand. McLovin sucks in his breath from behind the trio. 

“Uh…”

Courtney rubs their head, groaning before realizing they can’t stand up straight. They open their eyes wider and see their antlers and Ass’ antlers are intertwined. Both gasp, and then narrow their eyes at each other.

“Let go,” Ass insists. 

“I’m not holding on!”

Sha-Mod looks around nervously while McLovin starts to back away slowly as the two bicker. Eventually, Ass turns, stepping over to the boys and dragging a stubborn Courtney with them, and they grab the gun from Sha-Mod’s hands. 

McLovin and Sha-Mod run out of the cave, screaming and covered in pink paint as Courtney and Ass chase them. 

---

Julia walks along the path back to where she’d left Michael, Kelly, and Austin, seemingly bored and perfectly calm. 

She pauses as Chris’ voice blares over the intercom: “Don’t forget that removing your antlers or tail will result in an immediate elimination! Hahaha,” 

Julia rolls her eyes before hearing a rustling behind her. She turns, terrified, before Scary swings down from a tree branch, hanging upside down as they shoot her. 

“Hey! HEY!” she screams. “I’m on YOUR team! Wait- this isn't paint!” she yelps as she's pelted with pebbles, covering her in tiny bruises.

Scary giggles and disappears back into the canopy.

“FREAK!”

Michael comes trudging down the path seconds later, sulking and peeling drying paint off her skin. “What happened to you?” the two ask in unison. 

---

Chris leans back in his director’s chair, putting his hands behind his head and sighing as Chef arrives with another platter of fresh crepes. 

He takes a seat at the table seconds later, enjoying the open air and sunshine as the two enjoy their mid-challenge brunch just outside of the woods, relishing in the screams of campers and the sound of paintballs splattering. 

“This really is what I needed. No radiation, no dinosaurs, just some good old fashioned nostalgia-based torture,” Chris grins. “Oh, my- is that lemon curd I spy?”

Chef nods. “Imported,”

Chris licks his lips, but just before he can reach across the table, Sha-Mod, McLovin, Ass, and Courtney run out of the woods, the latter still chasing and shooting at the former, taking turns on the gun as their antlers are still tangled.

As they reach the top of the hill separating the craft services tent from the woods, they trip on each other and roll down the slope straight into the breakfast table. The campers groan, lying on the crushed array of berries, creams, and crepes. 

Chris’ shocked stare turns into one of pure anger in seconds. “Seriously?! That was my brunch, dudes! Do you know how long crepes take to make?!”

Chef rolls his eyes. 

“Eliminated! Disqualified! Done!” Chris pulls out his megaphone and yells into it “Anons in the area, get over here!”

Kelly and Austin, as well as Max, Staci, and Scary come strolling out of the forest, surrounding the pile of Fujoshis on the tattered mess that used to be a nice wooden table. 

Chris jabs a finger down. “Take them out, please,”

Kelly grins, aims, and fires directly at Ass, and Scary shoots Courtney somewhere around sixty times before running out of ammo. 

Chef turns to Chris. “Where’d she get the extra paintballs from?”

“Who cares? Fujos, you’re out! I’ll see you at the campfire tonight- as soon as you’re done cleaning this mess and making me a new brunch!”

The team groans in unison. 

---

“Well, that could’ve gone worse,” Max says, stirring the odd green soup Chef was serving for dinner. The Fujoshis- save for Bonnie and Caesar, who were sitting alone at their table- were off on bathroom cleaning duty, as assigned to them by a still-hangry Chris. 

“You did great, baby!” Austin smiles, wrapping an arm around Kelly’s shoulders. “I’m so proud!”

Kelly beams. Michael rolls her eyes. 

“Are we not gonna talk about the problem, here?!” Julia snaps, rotating an ice pack around the multiple bruises on her body. “I want that little emo weirdo gone!”

Everyone in the group turns to Scary in the kitchen, who’s busy throwing mysterious ingredients into the soup while Chef’s back is turned. 

“That’s something we can agree on,” Max sighs. “But it’s not the right time. Scary is unpredictable, but she’s a good player, and we need that.”

Julia scoffs. “When did you get all soft?” 

“I’M NOT- nevermind. I said no, so the answer is no,” 

“Whatever, Elmo,”

Max grumbles and crosses his arms, but doesn’t press the matter any further. Frollo rolls his eyes, and Scruffy jots something down. 

---

SCRUFFY: “There’s a lot going on on the team that I’m not being told about. It’s hard to report on facts when everyone keeps being so vague… I almost wish I got placed with the Fujoshis, at least their losing streak is something to write about!”

---

“Fujoshis, you’re here because your team sucks, you ruined my crepes, and your complete lack of coordination, aside from when you’re going after your own team members, is honestly pretty pathetic,” Chris says. “Unfortunately, only one of you will be going home tonight.”

“McLovin- you’re safe. Courtney, Bonnie, Caesar. You get to stay,”

Ass and Sha-Mod look at each other nervously. Courtney smirks a little. 

---

COURTNEY: “I’m not a vindictive person. I’m not! Let's just say I'm not a fan of the attitude demonstrated by some members on the team. But… we wouldn’t have lost today if someone had been able to see who he was shooting.”

---

Chris grins. “And the final marshmallow…

Goes…

To…

…Ass. Sha-Mod, I’m sorry man- Not!” Chris’ smile drops. “Now get out.”

Sha-Mod sighs, and even the crinkled Lightning picture looks sad. He stands and begins walking down the docks, boarding the boat of losers as McLovin follows after him. 

“I’ll win this for us, bro! We’ll have a real mansion someday! With real giant sand dollars!”

Sha-Mod waves as the boat speeds away. “I believe in youuuuuuu!”

“Wow, how touching,” Chris says in a monotone voice. “Will McLovin actually live up to his promises? Will Ass and Courtney ever make up? Find out next time- on Total! Takes! Island!”

[soursturniolo]

scare, alternate ending • matt sturniolo

pairing: matt sturniolo/fem!reader

summary: matt and you handle a pregnancy scare. alternate ending to the original scare

tags: angst and then fluff, with some humor sprinkled in. happy ending.

tw: light discussion of periods and pregnancy

It feels like my heart stops as I look at the calendar on my phone.

9 days late. And I’m never late.

I noticed this morning that my box of tampons still sat in the cabinet, unopened, in Matt and I’s shared bathroom. I hadn’t thought anything of it, until I opened my calendar to see when my next dentist appointment is.

I swallow dryly as I lock my phone and slip it back into my pocket, dropping down to sit on Matt and I’s bed. All I can think about is that damn calendar. 9 days late. 9 whole days. One or two days is normal I guess, but nine entire days?

I can feel my thoughts spiraling already. Matt and I are safe. I’m on a good birth control and we use condoms often. But even those aren’t foolproof. I do remember forgetting my pill twice this month.

Oh god. What if I’m pregnant? I’m not ready for a kid right now.

Oh god, and Matt. Matt isn’t ready either. With his career and plans with his brothers there’s no way this could even work right now. It would ruin everything. I feel tears of worry and anxiety fill my eyes and begin to drop down my cheeks.

My thoughts just continue to spiral and spiral, until I feel the bed dip next to me. I turn to see Nick, who had stayed behind with me while Matt and Chris went out to pick up some groceries.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” He asks concerned, his arm wrapping around my shoulder, pulling me into a side hug as we sat together.

I open my mouth to speak as my eyes meet his, but all that comes out is a sob. My hand moves to cover my mouth as more sobs follow. Nicks face creases in worry as his other arm wraps around me, pulling me into a hug as he rubs my back soothingly.

“Deep breaths, babe. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay,” he tells me, making me jerk back as I shake my head.

“No it won’t! He’s going to hate me!” I cry.

“If you’re talking about Matt, that kid could never hate you,” Nick tells me, voice calm and reassuring.

“I don’t know, Nick,” I laugh without humor, “this might.”

“Did you cheat?” Nick asks face calm, but apprehensive.

“No! God no,” I immediately answer.

Nick gives a small smile at the quick response.

“Okay, highly doubted it when I asked anyway,” he laughs, “but I don’t know what else could have you so upset thinking he’s going to hate you. You can talk to me, I want to help. What’s wrong?” He asks again.

I sigh. Nicks my best friend. He’s how I met Matt in the first place. I really wanted to just talk to Matt about this first, but with LA traffic and all Matt probably won’t be back for another hour. I don’t think I can survive another hour keeping this all bottled up.

“Nick, it’s bad,” I begin, voice shaken.

“I don’t care how bad, I’m here,” he immediately responds.

I take a deep breath.

“I’m late.” I state.

If this wasn’t so serious, Nicks reaction would have been funny. He stares at me blankly for a moment, before his head cocks to the side a bit in confusion.

“Like, to an appointment?” He asks, lost.

“No, Nick,” I sigh, shaking my head, “my period is late” the last part comes out like a whisper.

Once Nick connects the dots his jaw drops open a bit in surprise, confirming my feelings.

“See! It’s so bad, Nick, this is so bad!” I yell, jumping up from the bed and beginning to nervously pace in front of where Nick sits, still shocked.

“N-no, it’s not bad!” He stutters as he watches me with wide eyes.

I stop pacing and just look at him.

“Really? Not bad? Your jaw dropped open like that because you were trying to catch a fly, then?” I ask sarcastically.

“Listen, I just got confronted with the fact that my best friend and brother fuck, I needed a second,” he defends, hands up.

“Nick, we’ve been dating a year. We dont go to bed and play clash of clans together,” I tell him, making him roll is eyes.

“I know! I know but I also don’t think about it and now we kinda have to think about it and I don’t like it!” Nick exclaims.

“Don’t think about it!” I yell back.

We pause for a minute, staring at each other before we both crack smiles at how ridiculous this has become. We laugh and I return to sitting next to him. Nick wraps his arm around my shoulder again and rests his head against mine.

“So, how late are we talking?” He asks, getting back to the important point.

“9 days,” I whisper.

“Okay. Not horrible. Could be later,” he says, nodding. I nod too. A moment of silence passes as I nervously pick at my nails and Nick stares at the wall, thinking.

“Well, I think we know what we gotta do.” He says, softly.

I turn to him, knowing too.

“Let me call Matt, he should still be at the store with Chris. They can pick up a test,” Nick says. I take another shaky breath before nodding in agreement. I get my phone out and go to Matt’s contact, dialing his number before handing my phone to Nick.

“Hey baby,” Matt’s voice comes through the speaker softly.

“Hey, it’s Nick,” Nick says, earning a confused noise from Matt.

“Nick? Why do you have her phone? Is she okay?” He asks quickly, his concern making me smile softly despite the stressful situation.

“Um,” Nick pauses, which only worries Matt further.

“‘Um’, isn’t a good answer when a guy asks about his girlfriend, Nick,” Matt responds quickly.

“Sorry, she’s okay, but we need you to pick up something else for her while you’re at the store,” Nick says.

“Okay, what?” Matt asks.

Nick looks at me, encouraging me to speak. I take a breath before taking the phone out of Nicks hands, taking it off speaker and holding it to my ear.

“I need a pregnancy test,” I tell him softly.

I cringe as there’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

“Okay, I can grab that. Do you need anything else, sweetheart?” He asks softly. I smile again despite the tears I can feel coming again.

“No, that’s it,” I whisper.

“Okay, we’ll be back soon, I love you,” he tells me.

“Love you too” I say back before hanging up.

Nick and I move downstairs, where he puts on a movie for us to distract us while we wait. I let myself be pulled into its predictable plot line as we wait for Matt and Chris to come home.

We both are startled out of our focus on the movie when we hear the front door unlock, followed by it opening to reveal Matt coming in with a mostly empty plastic bag in his hand, while Chris came in carrying the other groceries. Nick moves to help Chris and grabs some of the heavier bags from him, both of them walking to the kitchen while Matt walks over to me.

I stand as he meets me by the couch. He looks surprisingly calm, while meanwhile I feel like my insides are shaking with the anxiety I’m feeling right now. He gives me a small smile before wrapping me in his arms. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I relax into his arms, resting my head against his chest. He gives me a gentle squeeze as I feel him press a kiss to my head.

“Let’s head to our room, baby,” he whispers, pulling back from the hug and grabbing my hand to lead me that way. Once in his room, he hands me the bag with the pregnancy test in it before sitting on his bed. Before walking to our bathroom, I pause.

“Matt, I need to know what this will mean,” I tell him.

He gives a small smile and holds his hand out to me. I walk over and grab it. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, before bringing it up to lips to give it a kiss.

“We’ll do it together. Whatever it is. Sure, I thought kids would be later. But, if now is the time, now is the time. I think I’d be more freaked if this was with some random girl. But with you? I know whatever happens, we will be just fine,” he tells me, before giving the back of my hand another kiss.

“You promise?” I ask.

“I swear,” he tells me.

I smile and nod, before heading to the bathroom. The test is quick and easy, and I’m soon done. I leave the test on the bathroom counter, set my timer for fifteen minutes, and come back out to sit next to Matt on our bed. I rest my head on his shoulder as Matt wraps his arm around me. We just quietly sit, both of us lost in our thoughts as we wait, only to be shaken out of our trances by my phone loudly going off.

I sigh as I stand and walk back to the bathroom to grab the test. I pick it up, careful to not flip it over to show the result, and walk back out to Matt. I stop in front of him. He gives me another reassuring smile as his hands come up to rest on my hips.

“Ready?” I ask, voice cracking.

“Yeah, baby,” he says.

I take a deep breath, knowing this small test in my hand could change everything for the both of us. But I look at Matt, looking up at me with so much warmth and comfort in his eyes, and it’s not so scary anymore.

I flip the test over, both of our eyes moving to see the result.

Two little lines that change everything. It's positive.

My eyes immediately fill with tears, overflowing and hot as they run down my cheeks. My eyes move from the test to trail up to Matt's face. His eyes are wide as they stare at the result in shock, but I watch as a smile overtakes his face, his eyes moving from the test to my face as he beems at me.

"Baby! We're having a baby!" he cheers, dropping the test as he scoops me up in his arms, twirling me around. Despite the fear and anxiety I feel, I find myself smiling and laughing at his excitement. After a moment of us both giggling as he joyfully swung me around, he sets me back on my feet gently, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks and brush my tears away with his thumbs.

"I know this isn't how we expected this to happen, or even when we expected it, but I swear to you that I'm all in. One hundred percent. I'll be with you every step of the way. Every day, every appointment, every late night and early morning, I'm here and I'm always going to be here. I love you so much, sweetheart, and I love our little us just as much already," he tells me softly but devotedly. He means every word with his heart and soul, but I never had any doubts about him to begin with.

"I know, Matty. I love you too." I whisper to him, my voice breaking as tears start falling again.

"I know, I know this is sudden and scary and it's going to be a big life change for us, but we have each other always. I know you will be the best mom to our baby. I am so lucky to have you, and to be doing this with you. You don't have to be scared, I'm right here with you," he says, leaving a soft kiss on the top of my head as he pulls me into his arms, holding me so gently against him.

It's all suddenly so real. I'm having a baby with the love of my life, the best and most kindhearted man I've ever known. I pull Matt even closer to me, cupping his face and pulling his lips against mine for a sweet kiss, soft and full of all the love we have for each other and this new little life we will have.

We slowly pull away from each other, soft smiles painting both of our faces when we suddenly hear a loud thud from the hallway. Matt raises an eyebrow and walks towards our closed bedroom door, and I follow. Matt opens the door to find both of his brothers laying on the floor outside of his door, all tangled up in a heap, Chris on top of Nick who is caught in the middle of cursing Chris out as soon as the door opened.

"God damn it Chris, the one fucking time you really need to be careful you fucking flop on me like a goddamn elephant you stupid— oh, ha ha, hi there matthew," Nick says, voice quieting even more and looking sheepish at being caught eavesdropping. I stiffle a laugh at the two of them laying on the floor, as I look up to see Matt looking at his brothers with an irritated look but some fondness still in his eyes.

Chris, however, has no shame in being the clumsy one to get them caught, and instead quickly rises to his feet and grabs Matt in a bear hug, despite Matt stiffening up and turning to look at me with a loof as if asking for help. I stiffle a laugh and shake my head at the antics of the soon to be uncles.

"You're going to be a dad! Can we start buying cute baby shit now?!" Chris asks us both excitedly, still squeezing Matt in his arms. I smile and nod as I move to join in on the hug, Nick following to join in too. We already have such a good little family here, and I feel overwhelmed with happiness and excitement in adding to it.

note: woo its been 5 months since I posted the original version of this story. I'm so so sorry it's taken so long for the alternate version I promised but life has been a whirlwind. I'm hoping this will be the start of getting back into writing and creating :) love u all always ♥

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[beingdreeyore]

Reflecting today on how much has changed...

Today has been tough. It feels like a rough day, one of the lowest days, like tears would be acceptable and necessary, but at the same time it looks so different to how these days used to look.

I woke exhausted but also relieved that it was one of my three 'work from home' days left for the year. One or two nights a week the pain in my spine is so bad that I spend the night tossing and turning, endlessly searching for some magical (and fictional) position that will ease it all so I can drift off to sleep. Midnight passes in a flash. 3am becomes 4am. The traffic starts outside. Then it's 5am. Suddenly the song that plays at sunrise on my speakers is gently floating through my tiny apartment and it's time to get up, regardless of how sleepless the night was.

Thursdays I do a walk though. Not the longest walk, but a decent walk before the day starts. Otherwise I might spend the entire day in the safety of the apartment and never hit a single heartbeat over 100 in a minute. It's tempting to be that person. I struggled the whole way with lumbar discomfort and a heaviness in my legs but reassured by the physio yesterday that what is happening is not doing damage, it's rebuilding.

Once home, I did a practice multiple choice exam. I passed but it wasn't the mark that I'd set in my mind. I know on exam day I have to factor in what will likely be a sleepless night the night before and also performance anxiety. It wasn't high enough to make me feel safe if both those things occur, but I still passed. Two months ago I failed in the most spectacular fashion and I thought I'd never get to this stage - I'm passing each and every practice run. It was a sleepless night and I want to sit down and sob, and yet I was still able to pass.

There's a bottle of wine in the fridge and as the urge to cry hit me at regular intervals, I thought about it. But I went back to my questions and my emails. Finalised my reports. Attempted some dancing on my lunch break. The alcohol is still unopened. Would it have been three months ago?

Dancing was a mess. It's only one move that's breaking me but the whole routine relies on it. It occurs in the first 15 seconds and then at regular intervals afterwards. After 35 minutes of not making it past the 16th second, I gave up. It beat me today. I wanted to cry again, but didn't. I wanted to binge eat, but didn't. I stuck to my nutrition plan. I made an appointment with the clinical psychologist I haven't seen in six months, just in case these symptoms linger. And all the while I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I didn't drink or eat or give up. The sadness comes too but the work still gets done.

The thing about this atypical depression is that it kicks my butt. It kicks my butt, it makes me fat, it takes my sleep, and it slows me down to a stage where I come home from work each day exhausted. But where the wins are though is that when I reflected on my goals for the month and my goals from last month, I'd met them all. Well, all except the weight loss.

The reduced drinking. The sticking to the nutrition plan. The exercise as dictated by the physio. The daily study. The meal prep. All those things I told myself I had to do to get through this, I did them. It didn't look like that the last time I was in this place. The last time it looked very much like I was drowning. I can usually manage a few on certain days, but I don't do all on every day. It hasn't been easy. It's been checklists and reminders and a lot of positive self-talk, as well as self tough love. There's also been inner negotiation and bargaining but it's paid off. Regardless of how low I feel the work is still getting done. How many times did I put these exams off because the lows were too much?

So today is a day of reflecting. It's not perfect. I still slip up. I have so much more work to do. But little things today like hearing my inner voice tell me that I'm not unloveable hit home. Has that inner voice ever told me that? I've told myself on repeat so many times that I'm not asking for too much when I ask for the bare minimum that I suddenly seem to believe it. It feels real and no longer contrived. I know what I want and it's more than being offered. It feels rude and ridiculous that men expect me to settle for far less knowing what they will get in return. When did I start believing that?

So there has been reflection. Its a win on a day like today and I'm taking it as such. I know it won't be perfect and I don't expect that of myself. But I have my checklists and my reminders and I know I will get through this too. Though I only see it when I look back, it's clear now that each time I get a little stronger and I get a little closer to beating this for good. Today I am grateful for finally having that realisation and for learning to love myself enough to be able to even get to this place.

[bt5bby]

Hello 👋🏻

I have finally finished uni for the year, so I will hopefully be a little more active now!

I wanted to celebrate with a new story, this one is about Jimin. It’s probably one of the first stories I wrote so I hope it’s okay, it might be a bit outdated.

Either way, this is Not in the Living Room!

Warning ⚠️

Tags - Pregnant Jimin, Mpreg, Magical pregnancy, Magical dildo, Child birth (pretty graphic), Masturbation

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Jimin knew it was risky doing it in the middle of the living room. He knew that he shouldn't, but the air conditioner in his room was fried, and it was the middle of summer. He was already deprived by trying to do it in his room many times and failing because he started to get heat stroke. So now he had no other option, not to mention he was sure the members would be out of the dorm for another 2 hours at least. He did take some precautions, though, locking the door and putting a little bell he had on the handle so that he would know when someone was trying to open it. He also put a spread-out blanket on the top of the couch, so he could flick it on himself whenever needed, just in case he didn't have enough time to run to his room. He grabbed the tv remote and turned it on but muted it as one last precaution. He felt like he could never be too careful.

Honestly, he wouldn't have been so embarrassed if one of the members had walked in if he wasn't the only gay guy in the group. As much as they accepted Jimin for who he was, it still made things slightly weird. He had been accused more than once of staring at one of them, and even though there were no hard feelings, he still felt like they were judging him, not to mention all the times he was checking them out. He couldn't be blamed, they were seven attractive boys all living together, and none of them was able to date. It was hard, but Jimin managed to find his fill of love with his members. It still made it uncomfortable, not just for them, who would have to walk in on Jimin fucking himself with a dildo while he imagined it was them. It also made Jimin uncomfortable. He didn't want his secret outed, not to mention if they caught him, they might stop hanging out with him so much, and that would break his heart.

He pushed away his anxieties about getting caught and pulled out a brown box, unopened. Usually, Jimin could go a few days or even a week without using his dildo to get him off. He had the willpower, but this was a brand-new toy. He ordered it online when he read raving reviews about it. He didn't read the reviews, but it had 5 stars, so he knew it must be good. He pulled it out of the box, quickly moving to the sink and pouring hot water all over it. Just because he likes things up the butt doesn't mean he doesn't care about hygiene, especially when it comes to sticking things inside his holes. He also found with his other dildos that when he did, it made them warm, which made them feel more natural. He gave it a good clean before he skipped back to the couch, grabbing his other box and pulling out the lube he had. He opted for his non-scented one today cause god forbid, one of the members somehow managed to recognise the scent.

He placed both on the towel he had laid on the couch; for respect, nobody wants to sit on a sofa that someone had cum all over, moving to start undressing. He folded his clothes neatly and placed them on the couch's armrest, using them as a pillow. He smiled happily, excited to finally get some much-needed release. He popped open the lid of the lube and squirted a few drops on his hand. He rubbed them into his fingers and then kneeled, bending himself forward, resting on one arm while the other bent back, moving to his tight rim. He furrowed his brow as he slipped his little finger in, happy that he had decided to cut his fingernails just two days before. The small intrusion didn't hurt at all, but it worked well to ease the tightness of his ring. Jimin was amazed that he was still so tight, though he supposed he had had more than a week to close back up.

Working his way up to two fingers, Jimin slowly started to feel the relaxation washing over him. It was always his favourite feeling. Sure the pleasure he got from cumming was terrific, but the feeling of being stretched out properly, how he could fool his brain into thinking it was Yoongi's hands, or Jin's or any of the others. That they loved him and being so gentle and caring. The way his whole body felt relaxed just topped all other feelings. He moaned softly as he worked his third finger in. He had bought the dildo at a slightly more considerable girth than he was used to, so he had to stretch himself more than usual. The sting was welcomed, though, because he was positive this would be great. So many people who bought it loved it, so why wouldn't he?

Once Jimin was stretching himself, he leaned down and collected the dildo. He was slightly disappointed that it had cooled down, but it didn't matter. He would enjoy it nonetheless. He squeezed more lube onto the toy, lathering it up to make the slide easy. He wasn't one for pain. He didn't mind a bit, but he wasn't a masochist. He liked to make things easy for himself. He was looking for pleasure and found it best when he was calm and relaxed. He took a deep breath, quickly grabbed a sip of water he had put on the side table next to his head and then began.

His moan was loud as he pushed the tip of the dildo in. He took a shaky breath and pushed a little more in. He was surprised that even when he stretched himself with three fingers, it still stung a bit. This was bigger than anything he had ever taken. He breathed through the pushing he did, working the big dick into him slowly. He stopped every few seconds just to adjust to the feeling. Jimin didn't know how long he had been working the thing into him, but finally, he was finished. The item was sunk in down to the hilt. He left it again to ensure he was fully ready to start. He wriggled his hips, trying to grind on it a little to work it in and help the stretch. He felt it prod his prostate and shivered, and a low moan left his mouth.

Jimin smiled at himself and decided to turn himself around, moving to lay on his back with his legs in the air. He rested his feet on the opposite armrest that his head was at and then moved the clothes under his head to keep him in a crunch position. He leaned forward and gripped the base of the dildo, pulling on it, getting the tip to sit right at his rim and then pushed it back in again. The lewd moan left his mouth and echoed through the empty apartment, filling only Jimin's ears. He found it even better with the echo he got in the immense living room space. Once it bounced off a wall or two and made it back to him, he could almost convince himself it was someone else. "Nah..." he gasped as he sped up a little. He was lost but not enough to remember whose turn it was to fantasise about today. He had started using a mental list to decide who he would think about each time he fucked himself. Some days though, he got a bit greedy. "Yes, Hyung! Ah, Hobi." He moaned, the spare hand lifting to rub his nipples. He squeaked when his fingers punched a little making the sensitive nubs harden. "Oh, Joonie, right there." He whined.

He worked the dildo in faster, gaining speed with every few thrusts. He had to keep his breathing steady to not fall over the edge so quickly. He wanted this one round to last him. He didn't need to have 20 orgasms. He only needed one perfect high that would wash over him like the floodgates had opened, and he found the best way to do that was to make himself wait. He thought he was odd, making himself work for the orgasm, but it gave him the best pleasure. He held his breath with each thrust in and then let it out very slowly as he pulled it out. His speed was now twice what it was before, fucking into himself well. He was starting to understand why the people liked this dildo so much. It felt amazing. Just the right length and width. It had the perfect sculpted veins and ridges in it. Its tip was slightly thicker than the rest, making it massage his whole tunnel as it went through. He pushed down the next orgasm, holding it again. This time he started to grind down on the dildo that he drove into himself. An odd tingling feeling floated through his body, arousing him even more.

Jimin couldn't stop his noises now. He was being loud and knew it, but he couldn't stop. He was too lost in the fantastic feeling. He hadn't felt this good before, not by himself. A buzz was running under his skin, lighting up his nervous system as each little flicker in his body made his pleasure more intense. It was almost hypnotising. He had his eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving with each thrust. He should have been surprised he could thrust into himself so fast. How hadn't his hand cramped up like it usually did? How was his arm not aching from the repetitive movement and strain? He couldn't even hear himself anymore. He was lost. Lost in the fantastic feeling. "Oh, Hyungs!" He screamed.

Unfortunately, he hadn't heard the door to the dorm open. He had been so extra about all the precautions, yet he lost himself in the pleasure that he didn't even notice the six boys standing in the entrance, mouths dropped open as Jimin continued to fuck himself with his dildo. "Holy shit!" Hoseok said, looking at a wildly fucked out Jimin. The six boys all looked at each other, bright red tinted on their cheeks. Jimin filled their ears with yet another loud moan, and suddenly, they were palming themselves in their pants. Straight or not, the inappropriate noises coming from the small boy sent all their dicks hard in an instant.

The first person to move around to Jimin was, of course, Taehyung. Staring down at his best friend, watching him fuck himself with a dildo, just seemed to make him feel even hotter. And as if the one person was an invite to the rest, the others moved forward so that now they were looking at Jimin in front, yet the boy still hadn't noticed them. It wasn't until Yoongi reached down with his spare hand to grab Jimins, pushing the dildo into him. The small boy's eyes shot open, looking mortified for no more than a second before he glazed over again, closing his eyes and going back to moaning without hesitation. "Fuck Min, look at you take that thing," Hoseok grunted, fist clenching around his member with each thrust he saw of the dildo. There was no response from the small boy except another loud moan and a squelch as Yoongi helped him push the dildo in and out.

"Ah, yes! Joonie!" Jimin squealed. Did Yoongi feel a bit offended? Yes. But did that matter right now? No. He wanted to see the supposedly straight leader fucking their dongsaeng with a big dildo. He made no fuss in stepping out of the way when Namjoon was pushed to his place by Hoseok. Namjoon looked down at the squirming Jimin, seeing just how keen he was for more stimulation. He reached forward and immediately started to work the dildo in and out of Jimin again. "You like that, Min?" He called with a smirk on his face. The boy below him screamed in pleasure at the sudden movement again. Namjoon kept moving it in and out, just as Yoongi had before him, while he rubbed his cock. Dicks were out instantly, and all six jerked off at seeing the petite dancer being fucked by the dildo.

"I-I..." Jimin started to stutter. It was so close, but he wanted to hold it off for as long as possible. He had to. The tingling feeling seemed to intensify with each thrust, the epicentre of the feeling bubbling in his tummy. "Oh! Oh, I-I thin...think! Ah!" Jimin cried out, so close. His dick bounced against the base of his stomach, rock hard and leaking pre-cum on his abs. Jimin felt the tingling getting more and more intense. His whole body started to shake the closer he got to his release. His mind was blank. He wasn't even aware of anything that was going on. He had opened his eyes before, but he barely saw anything. His fucked out brain telling him that the members around him were just his imagination. He rolled his hips harder onto the dildo, pushing it right up into him.

"So good." Taehyung moaned as he pumped his dick along with the rhythm of Jimin's thrusting. All six were following the beat, imagining themselves in the tight hole, the warmth of their hands acting like the heat of another body. They weren't particularly all imagining it being Jimin, but just a nice tight hole to thrust into. "Go on, Min, cum for us." Namjoon smiled, thumbing the tip of his dick too. Jimin's body quivered underneath the leader's watch, feeling the last few thrusts hitting the perfect spot. "Ah!" He screamed.

Jimin arched his back, his orgasm exploding into him just as all the others cum harshly into their hands. Jimin came with a scream, and for a second, they were all content with the scene that just took place. Everyone was lost in the split second of bliss until the screaming didn't stop, and everyone's hands weren't covered in cum like they usually would be. The few who weren't near Jimin frowned, not yet paying attention to the boy to look down and see that their orgasms had primarily been dry except for the little spurt that dribbled out at the end. The ones that were around Jimin looked down at the boy to see why he was still screaming.

Jimin's eyes had shot open when he felt his orgasm hit, but not because of the pleasure. A sudden sharp pain sparked in his tummy, right where the tingling was the worst. His hands rushed to the painful spot, trying to massage it, only to find that his stomach was growing bigger?! Jimin's breath caught in his throat, and his head snapped to look at his body immediately. All the haziness from before was gone; he was in clear mind now and horrified. "What the fuck?!" Yoongi exclaimed when he, too, saw the boy's stomach starting to distend. Jimin was panting hard, freaking out completely. "What is happening to me?" Jimin cried. Pain shot through his body with each second that passed, and he couldn't keep the laboured groans in.

All the others looked down at the small boy who was quickly filling out. "Jimin, what is this?" Jin asked, already having tucked his dick away. He was proper and polite, not to mention a bit reserved. Jin had finished. He didn't need others looking at his dick. Jimin's mind raced as he continued to feel his moderate swell, splitting his fingers apart as the skin grew under them. "I-I don't know!" Jimin cried. "H-help me, please." He begged, not taking his eyes off his middle once. No one knew what to do. Everyone had stood back away from the boy as they saw him start to grow. Jimin felt a weird gushing in him, filling his abdomen and assumed it must be the dildo. "Please take it out!" He begged.

Nobody moved for a moment, unsure what to do until he cried out again in pain. Taehyung rushed behind Jimin, lifting his top slightly so he could rest his best friend on him. They wrapped Jimin in a warm embrace, trying to comfort him while the others worked on his below. "Please, hurry." Jimin's voice was urgent and filled with fear and pain. He was horrified at how much he had grown in just a few minutes. It hurt too. He felt his muscles being pulled apart, his skin stretching. In the new position, Jimin could see his swelling belly, but also just past that. With his legs up like they were, he looked like a pregnant mother in a labouring position. He watched as the five other members fumbled over each other, not yet acting as if they were too scared. Jimin felt another twitch from deep inside him as something hard seemed to be moving. "Get it out now!" Jimin screamed, suddenly making everyone flinch.

Yoongi shoved Namjoon out of the way, leaning down to grab onto the base of the dildo sticking out of Jimin's ass. He meant to rip it right out of Jimin, but the minute he touched it, it heated up, burning his hand. "Ouch!" He yelped and jumped back. "What?" Jimin asked as he tried to look over his ever-growing middle. "It's hot." Yoongi gasped, shaking his hand. Jimin felt something hard in his stomach, almost a weird sense of movement. "There's something in me!" He screeched, freaking everyone out. "What?" They all yelled. "Get it out!" He cried, but Yoongi knew it was no good. Jimin's belly rapidly grew, beginning to tower over his body as he just cried and moaned. Looking at the giant orb, Jin could swear he did see something moving in it. "Make it stop!" Jimin wailed.

It was only a few more seconds before the growing stopped, leaving him with a giant belly, looking to be carrying triplets. He let out a wail as he felt the dildo start to push itself out of him. He couldn't see over his middle, but the others standing by his lower half could see the thing slowly moving out of him. "What is it doing?" Jungkook asked, looking at the thing with wide eyes. It rolled down inch by inch in Jimin, feeling like it was scraping his walls. Jimin continued to whine at the feeling of slowly being forced back out of him. "What is it doing?" Hoseok repeated Maknae's question, but still, no one had an explanation for it. Taehyung continued to pat Jimin's damp hair as he whined and panted until it fell out eventually and landed on the couch. The older boys looked at the odd-looking dildo, and then right before their eyes, it seemed to vanish.

Jimin let out a sob of relief once it was out, but it was short-lived because nothing could go Jimin's way today. The second it left him, a sharp pain pierced his middle, making the small boy scream louder. Everyone looked up to Jimin just in time to see a gush of liquid exit his body from his stretched hole. "What now?" Hoseok asked, looking down at Jimin, but he was in no position to reply. The sharp pain squeezed his insides hard, making his whole body tense. "No way!" Namjoon gasped nervously. "It's coming out!" Jimin screamed, holding his big belly. The others all looked at him, eyes so wide they might drop out of their heads. "What?" Jungkook paled. "He's in labour," Namjoon answered. Jimin contracted again, squeezing his eyes shut and crying hard.

His sobs filled the room, breaths shallow and ragged. His chest felt like it was on fire with all his emotions. Panic set deep in his body as he felt more pain clench the muscles in his stomach. Jimin didn't know when, but at some point, his ears started to block out the sound of everyone. All he could focus on was the pain he was feeling and trying to figure out what was happening. "Jimin!" Someone yelled, finally pulling him back to reality. "You need to control your breathing," Jin said, crouched down near him. Jimin looked at the eldest with wide eyes. He wasn't sure if he could control his breathing. Everything seemed so out of his control that he couldn't do anything. Another scream left his mouth, and he felt a strong urge to push this time. His body forced him to bare down and push hard, feeling like he was having a big shit.

"Are you pushing?" Yoongi asked, looking at the boy's strained face. Jimin continued for another few seconds and then let out a big shaky breath. "You're ready already?" Hoseok gasped, looking at Jimin. The small boy whimpered with a nod, trying to catch his breath before the next contraction. Jimin wailed again at the tightness in his belly. He pushed hard again, his whole body telling him to. "Shit, ok. We need to prepare for this." Namjoon said, panicking. "How can he be pushing already?" Taehyung asked, looking up. "How can he be pregnant at all, Tae? This isn't a normal situation." Namjoon rolled his eyes. Jimin finally got a reprieve from pushing again and hung his head back on his shoulders.

Jin looked at the pregnant boy, watching Jimin struggle to breathe after the second push round. "You're doing so good, Jimin." He said encouragingly. Jimin looked at Jin with a terrified face. "Hyung..." He whimpered. Jin shook his head, telling him not to talk. "Save your energy." Jimin's face scrunched up again as the next one came, and he had to push. He let out a loud cry that time, feeling something shift in him. "We need to help him," Jin called to the others. Immediately Hoseok grabbed the other hand that Jin wasn't holding, helping to calm him. "I don't want to do this." Jimin cried, looking at his friends. They all looked at him with sympathy. "We know, Jimin, but you have to." Hoseok smiled, trying to comfort him. "H-how has this even happened?" Jimin gasped as he felt the next contraction. He bore down hard again, feeling his insides start to open up. "A-am I being punished?" He asked with a loud sob after he finished the next push. "No way, Minnie." Everyone reassured him. "This isn't because of you. Something must have happened with that dildo." Jimin wanted to respond to the eldest rapper, but the next contraction came again.

God, he was surprised that they were so close together. He felt like he couldn't catch his breath. "Get it out!" He screamed as he pushed hard, the top of the thing in him sitting just at his entrance. "It looks like a human head so far." Namjoon described. The leader rushed to the linen cupboard and grabbed a towel for the tiny child. The contraction ended again, and Jimin gasped for air. "I can't!" He cried. "I can't do it." Taehyung shook his head, leaning forward to pull Jimin into a hug. "You can, Minnie. You have to push this baby out." They tried to motivate him, looking to the others so they could. "You're doing well, Jimin. Just a little more, and the baby will be born." Yoongi added.

Namjoon returned with two towels and laid one down under Jimin to soak up the blood he knew was pouring out of him. The towel Jimin had been lying on was already wet with amniotic fluid. The other towel he gave to Jungkook and asked him to stay close to help with the baby. The next contraction hurt much more than the others, and Jimin screamed. His whole body seemed to be pushing without his help, wanting nothing more than to expel the creature in him. "So good, Minnie, the baby is crowning." Namjoon smiled. Jimin fell back against Taehyung once he finished, seeming to be his routine.

Jimin was so engrossed in his birthing for the whole time he was pushing, trying his very hardest to get the baby out, but in the small moments, he found his mind wandering back to the bigger picture. He wept, rolling his head on his shoulders as he tried to breathe through the pain that lingered even after the contraction finished. However, with each contraction, the downtime was getting shorter and shorter. Jimin couldn't see over his gigantic belly, but he could feel his hole stretched beyond belief as the baby's head sat half in, half out.

"One more push, and the baby's head is out," Yoongi told him, looking down at his hole. Jin raised a hand and brushed the sweat-stuck hair back. "You're doing so good, Jimin. Just a little more." He cheered, giving the small boy a bright smile, hoping it would make him feel better. The next contraction came, which was the most painful Jimin had supposed. His hole felt like it was on fire and he swore he felt his skin rip, but he felt such relief when Namjoon told him the head was out. "P-please..." Jimin whispered, not feeling the energy to talk any louder. "Please, what, Min?" Hoseok asked, pulling his hand closer. "I want it to stop." Jimin sniffled, a slight hiccup cutting his words up. "It will be over soon. Just push the shoulders out, and then you're done," Namjoon said, hiding behind the bump of Jimin's belly. "Two pushes, and it will be done." Yoongi smiled.

Jimin gave him a shaky nod and then pushed hard again, finding a new motivation. He bore down hard, nearly feeling his ears pop with the pressure he was feeling throughout his body. "Yes, Min, just like that." Jimin felt the shoulders move; once again, the burn was tremendous as he was stretched wider than the head. He screamed in pain, holding Jin and Hoseok's hands tightly. Taehyung petted his head and hugged him softly, encouraging him, while Yoongi and Jungkook helped Namjoon below. "Kook, get the towel ready. It's nearly done," Namjoon called. Yoongi got up and rushed into the kitchen to get some scissors and a few clips they kept for bags to seal off the umbilical cord.

Jimin wailed with one last push, the baby sliding out of his body. He sobbed a little harder, thankful that it was over, laying his head back onto Taehyung while he kissed all over his face. "You did it, baby." He smiled. Hoseok and Jin patted him all over and told him little praises. Jimin smiled, happy that the whole predicament was finally over. He gave in to the hugs, kisses and compliments, feeling so much love, even though humiliation burned underneath it.

Namjoon grabbed the baby and quickly moved it to the towel Jungkook was holding, ready for Yoongi to step in when they realised that the baby had no umbilical cord. The three boys stayed silent for a moment, looking at the little thing in Jungkook's hands. "Do you think it came off inside him?" Yoongi asked, looking down at Jimin. Namjoon shrugged, unsure of what to think. Jungkook wiped the baby's face clean, getting a good look at it when they noticed something. "Ahh, guys?" He called, and everyone stopped to look at him. "What?" Jin asked. Jungkook's wide eyes looked up from the baby to Jimin and then just past him. "I-it looks like Taehyung," Jungkook said, unbelievably. The two 95's looked at the youngest with stunned expressions. "What?" Tae asked. "How is that possible?" Everyone knew that he wasn't looking for an answer because there was no explanation for anything happening right now.

Jimin would have been completely freaked out that the baby he had just given birth to looked like his best friend if it wasn't for the pain that continued to push his insides. He had a short break once the first baby was born, but a sharp pain took the peace away. He closed his eyes and squeezed Jin and Hoseok's hands, pushing again. A loud wail brought the others back to him. "What is it?" Taehyung asked as he looked down. "No, no, no, no, no." Jimin chanted in fear as his body pushed against another hard thing. He looked at the others helplessly, pleading with his eyes for them to help him. "What is going on?" Taehyung yelled when no one answered. "There's another baby." Namjoon frowned after instructing Jungkook to get another towel. Jimin huffed and puffed through the contraction, falling back when it finished. "I don't want another." Jimin wailed. "I can't do it anymore." He begged them to make it stop, but no one knew what to do for him.

"I know this is hard for you, Min, but you can't stop now. You have to get this baby out of your body." Namjoon said softly, trying to encourage Jimin. "This isn't fair!" Jimin screeched. "We know it's not fair, Minnie, but it has to be done. We can figure all this out once the baby is out." Jin moved his spare hand to wipe the tears on Jimin's cheeks. Jimin turned to look at the eldest, making his heart wrench by his expression. Jimin opened his mouth to speak, but the next contraction hit, and he let out a cry of pain instead. "Push through it," Yoongi yelled. "I want it out of me!" Jimin screamed, pushing hard.

Jungkook returned with another two towels just in case he saw the baby's head poke out faster than last time. "Good job, Jimin. The baby's head is out." Namjoon announced. The boy fell back against Tae, who resumed kissing his face. "It's not me." Jimin whimpered through his breaths. Taehyung stopped to listen to the boy. "These babies are forcing their way out." He huffed. "But you're pushing them so well." Tae smiled, but Jimin only shook his head. "I can barely push anymore." Jimin looked up at Taehyung behind him, his eyes filled with fear. "They are coming out by themselves as the dildo did." Taehyung frowned, wondering what this meant, but again, nothing lasted as Jimin resumed crying through another contraction.

The second baby exited Jimin on the next push, sending relief through him and all the others. "His belly hasn't gone down?" Jungkook observed, looking at the giant orb that was Jimin's middle. Everyone looked at it, seeing the bright red skin still stretched tight. "You don't think there's more?!" Jimin asked, but he answered his question with another, much faster, contraction. "No!" He screamed, pushing hard again. "No more, no more." He repeated. His hands let go of Jin and Hoseok's, and he started to sit up, thinking that maybe he could just walk away. "Stop, Jimin," Jin warned, reaching back up to grab his hand and pull him back down. "I can't! I don't want any more." He wailed. "I want them out of me!" The boys held him tighter, trying to comfort him. "Just a little more, and it will hopefully be done. You're being so strong, Jimin." Hoseok praised, but the boy didn't care.

Namjoon had moved the second baby to Jungkook, who looked down at it like the first one. "Shit! This one looks like Jin Hyung." Jungkook said, looking up to the eldest. Jin froze for a moment wanting to go see for himself, but Jimin needed his help more. "S-so, we are all gonna have a baby that looks like us?" Hoseok asked. Nobody could answer until Jungkook gasped. "The cum!" He said, grabbing everyone's attention. "Cum?" Namjoon questioned, kneeling back down to Jimin's height. "We all came, right? Seeing Jimin Hyung fuck himself with the dildo. When we came, our cum disappeared. What if, by some magic, it went into Jimin, and that's why the babies look like us?" It sounded ridiculous to all of them, even Jungkook, but nothing that had happened so far had been logical.

"It actually would explain a few things." Hoseok shrugged, looking up at Namjoon. The leader frowned, unsure what to think of it, but thankfully he didn't have to ponder as long as Jimin was screeching again, yelling at them to get the babies out, and he no longer needed to answer the question. "Oh god!" Jimin gasped as he felt the baby start to crown. "It's ok. Breathe through it," Namjoon said, stroking Jimin's thigh as the baby pressed hard against his rim. The contraction stopped just as the baby's head spread Jimin open, making it halt. He whimpered at the pain, feeling like he was tearing up again. "I-I think I'm gonna pass out." He said softly, his eyes slowly closing. His mind was fuzzy, and his eyes couldn't focus on anyone.

Jin raised a hand to Jimin's face holding it tight. "Hey, Min we need you to stay awake." He said, tapping on the small boy's cheek. Jimin lazily turned his head to the eldest, but his eyes weren't open. His head rolled around for a moment until the boy fell limp. "Shit, Jimin!" Yoongi called, trying to wake him up too. "He needs to push the baby out." Namjoon panicked, unsure of what to do. "Please wake up," Taehyung begged the small boy, worried for his best friend. Another contraction crushed Jimin's body, tightening his muscles and the baby pushed out more. Namjoon watched in amazement as the baby's head finally pushed out. "H-how is that possible? He's pushing while unconscious?" Namjoon asked, looking up at the others. Taehyung shook his head, recalling what Jimin had said earlier. "No, no, he said. He didn't even need to push anymore. His body was doing it for him as the dildo did before." Everyone looked at each other now understanding.

"This baby seems to be coming out easier," Namjoon said as the next contraction pushed the baby out completely. He picked it up and saw a little Jungkook looking at him. "This one must be yours," Namjoon said, handing it to the youngest. Jungkook felt nervous grabbing the baby this time. He held it more softly, being extra careful, and when he looked down, he felt like he was looking at baby him. It was almost uncanny. The Maknae was only drawn away when Namjoon told him another was coming, and he had rerun out of towels. He put the baby next to the others on the floor, away from everyone and rushed for more towels, grabbing several more now as he didn't know how many they would need.

"He looks like he's still in pain," Taehyung said with a frown, looking at the scrunched-up face Jimin was pulling. "Well, you push several babies out your ass and see how you feel?" Yoongi quipped at the younger's stupid thought but earned a smack from the leader. "How is this even possible? Where are the babies coming from in him? He has no womb." Hoseok asked. "None of the babies have umbilical cords. I think that whatever did this simply inserted the babies in him, and now he's pushing them out." Namjoon explained as he started to help birth the next baby.

Jimin's body constricted and squeezed again. Namjoon was surprised that these babies were pretty much one after the other. No rest in between. The next one looked like Hoseok, landing right in Namjoon's arms. "So he only has two more?" Yoongi asked. Namjoon nodded, moving back to the boy's hole. "He will be ok, right?" Taehyung asked, brushing the hair out of Jimin's face again. "I don't know. This would have ruined his hole." Jin sighed. "His skin is covered in stretch marks." The eldest moved his hand to the boy's tummy, which still wasn't any smaller, though no one mentioned it. "His body won't be the same."

Taehyung frowned, looking down at the small boy, feeling bad for him. They all knew that Jimin hadn't wanted this. He must have been tricked or something. He was too naive sometimes. "Wow," Namjoon said, holding up the next baby. "It's weird to look at yourself." He mumbled. This baby was slightly bigger than the others. Going to grow into a tall boy, just like the leader. "So, just Yoongi is next?" Jungkook said, placing the baby Namjoon with the others.

A soft groan was heard from Jimin as he started to move his fingers. His eyes moved under his lids for a moment until they fluttered open. He seemed a bit dazed and unsure of what was happening. The boy almost wished he could have stayed asleep because it would have been easier for him. "W-what- ah." He gasped, not even getting out the whole question. "This is the last one, Min. You did so well." Namjoon said. Jimin was almost pulled back into his hysterics, finally returning to the situation. "Hey, just relax. You don't even have to push. Just focus on Jin, Hobi and Tae." Yoongi said, rubbing his leg. Jimin whimpered but nodded. Looking to the others around him.

Jimin felt the next contraction and couldn't stop the urge to push. He felt like he had to help get it out. He squeezed Jin and Hoseok's hands again, trying his hardest. "Ok, it's nearly there," Namjoon said, holding the head of little Yoongi until the next contraction and Jimin could push him out all the way. "You've done so well Jimin. You don't know how proud of you we are." Jin smiled. Jimin held his breath and bore down, pushing the shoulders out finally.

"Done!" Namjoon announced, picking up the tiny baby and giving it to Jungkook. Jimin knew, though. He knew this wasn't it because he still felt something inside him. He tried this time to be quiet. He didn't want to make any more panic, but his mind was freaking out. What if he was to continue to give birth forever now? When would this end? "J-Joonie," Jimin whined. Namjoon turned to him with a furrowed brow. Jimin squeezed tightly and pushed, making it quick. "Another?!" Everyone yelled. Namjoon moved to the boy's legs, but by that time, Jimin had finished. The last babysat between his legs, looking up at the leader.

Namjoon sighed in relief when he saw it. He chuckled and picked it up. "Of course. How silly of me." He said with a smile. "You came to Minnie." He said, turning to the baby that looked just like the boy. Jimin cooed, seeing his little face. "You did it, Min. You gave birth to seven babies." Taehyung said, amazed. Jimin sighed in relief. For the first time in what felt like hours, he had nothing pushing at his insides. His stomach was still the same size as before he gave birth, but it was empty, and he felt much lighter.

The seven babies were lined up on the floor by Jungkook. He whipped his phone out and took a picture, amazed by all the little creatures. "What do we do with them now?" Yoongi asked. As if on command, the seven babies vanished, just like the dildo. A gasp was heard from the Maknae, and he looked up. "What is it?" Jin asked. "They're gone." He said. Everyone looked down at the seven empty towels lying on the floor. "Well, I suppose we couldn't take care of them now, could we?" Hoseok sighed. It remained quiet for a while, everyone thinking about everything that had just happened.

Jimin gasped. The sound of water rushing filled his ears again, but suddenly, his tummy started to deflate. His hands sunk with each second, and he groaned, feeling his muscles move back into place. It shrunk just as quickly as it swelled, and after minutes Jimin's stomach was back to being as flat as it was before everything happened. He contorted his lithe body, thankful he was back to normal, and looked at his tummy, inspecting for even a single stretch mark.

"It's back to normal." He said, a slight tone of hope in his voice. He briefly wondered if this was a dream, or maybe someone or something taunting him more, letting him go back to normal, just to have it done again.

All the boys around Jimin smiled, happy to see their friend return to his old self. Jimin quickly shot up off the couch, so glad he could move again, not being pinned to the sofa by a giant belly. He ran his hands all over his bare tummy, inspecting still. "Thank god that's over." Yoongi sighed, flopping down in the armchair off to the side. Everyone mumbled in agreement, nodding their heads.

Jimin looked up at them with a straight face. His thoughts about how they had all just seen him so exposed and vulnerable. "Let's forget this ever happened." He said quickly in the silence left by everyone. The boys all looked at him with confused eyes. "What?" Tae asked. "I want you all to erase this from your memory. Nothing happened today." Jimin urged. "We will never speak about it again, and we don't need to tell anyone."

The six boys all gave each other a look, discussing it mentally, and after a moment, they turned back to the small boy. "Ok, Jimin, if that's what you want," Namjoon said, giving him a soft smile. Jimin felt the sting of humiliation still in his chest, but he nodded. "It's what I want. Don't talk about it. I..." he looked at each of them. "I-I'm going to my room now." He said very quickly and almost ran away, forgetting everything on the couch and his clothes.

The six sighed and leaned back. If Jimin wanted them to forget, they would. They would let everything go back to normal and continue living like they had never seen anything, but when they needed a little something, each and every one of them would remember. Only when they couldn't get off to whatever they had seen so many times before Jimin's beautiful face would pop up.

And it wasn't long until one of them gave in to temptation, logging onto Jimin's computer and going through the history, searching for the website. Unsure how Jimin had stumbled upon it, he read the descriptions and decided the next time they all wanted to get off, they might get Jimin to use a different dildo...

[crazywolf828]

I posted something RWBY related on Snapchat and this girl (we had originally bonded over RWBY and bmblb) who ghosted me and hasn't talked to in over a year just sent me a chat. The anxiety to open that is incredible.

[whirlybirbs]

         (  chapter 6′s gif by @buckysbarnes​​ from this lovely set !  )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  6/?

summary: gunshot wounds, panic attacks, and evil next door neighbors.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 5.3k, a filler before the real sexual tension.

a/n: be warned, this chapter has a diy medical procedure where bucky removes the slug from rabbit’s shoulder. it’s nothing too graphic, but keep that in mind! also, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has rec’d, reblogged, commented, kudos, liked, looked at this fic. the response to every chapter has been so overwhelmingly kind and i’m so thankful that i have the oppurtunity to share this fic with you all. that being said, i broke this chapter up. next week has some spice. ;-)

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Bucky wakes up with a headache that feels like someone’s tapped an icepick between his eyes. A fire-bright burn radiates under his ribs.

It’s a slow creep back to reality — he just lays there and stares at the peeling wallpaper that meets the corner of the ceiling for a while, knowing deep in the back of his muddled, confused thoughts that he most likely has a nasty concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.

How? Hm. Fighting. Music? The club.

Rabbit.

He sits up fast and Bucky’s blue eyes struggle to adjust in the low-light of the scarcely furnished apartment. The searing pang of his headache is enough to make his stomach churn, but he’s had worse. So much worse. This is manageable. So, he swallows down the nausea and looks around the room like a wounded animal — and almost immediately, relief greets him at the sight of you in the armchair across from the couch.

Your hair is a mess, falling from it’s previous style that you’d proudly worn to The Glass Cannon. Your lipstick is smeared, there’s glitter on your cheeks, and your make-up has transitioned from starlet beauty to broken-hearted bombshell. Bucky notices, with a bit of dismay, that you’re even missing an earring. There’s a nasty bruise forming along the peak of your cheekbone and a gash there from when Alexei had cracked you across the face with the pistol — and even despite all this, Bucky can feel his heart clench at the sight of you. A good clench. The sort that makes his heart kick into a stutter step.

You look… well, you look like someone who’d had the shit choked out of them and then was shot.

Shot.

Your jacket, punched clean through with the single bullet hole, is hanging over the back of the chair and there’s gauze taped to your shoulder. You’re leaning your good cheek in your hand, attention turned totally to Bucky, where you’ve fallen asleep. From here, you’re a picture of exhaustion.

Anxiety flashes in his heart and he swings his legs over the edge of the couch.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Take it easy.”

It’s the woman from before, Kiwi, and she’s got an ice pack in her hands. It’s wrapped in a ratty, green dish towel, and she hands it off to Bucky with a pitiful little look. Rounding the couch, Bucky finally gets a better look at her.

She’s older than you, maybe by a handful of years, but sharp and beautiful nonetheless. Her hair is dark as night and the tips are drenched in a lime colored dye. Her eyes are dark, too, ringed by kohl and glitter, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever seen her before.

“You heal quick,” she says quietly as she plops down into the chair across the room. On a makeshift desk, there’s a laptop, “Care to explain how you know our dear friend Rabbit here?”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Again, his eyes fall on your sleeping form.

He maneuvers the ice pack in his hands, then gently presses it to his ribs. He melts a bit, ignoring the evident tears in the silk shirt. He feels bad — he’d busted some of the seams in the midst of the brutal scuffle and it seems like this artifact of Jaimie’s was most likely beyond salvation.

His dog tags jingle against his chest.

“Therapy,” Bucky croaks, “We, uh, we met in therapy.”

A new voice comes into the picture now, one that’s muffled by a mouthful of food.

“That’s cute.”

It’s the other one, Climber. He’s traded in his all-black, all-polyurethane outfit for an expensive looking t-shirt. Without the strobes, without the tunnel vision, Bucky can now see the intricate buzz cut that sits beneath the mountain of blue curls on his head. There are patterns buzzed into his tight-shave. He’s got a smile, too, the glimmers a little too artificially. Bucky spies crystals inset on his incisors between bites of what looks like a bowl of cereal with no milk. Spoon and all.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Climber says as he plops down next to Bucky on the couch, “What’d you say your name was?”

A hand is jutted his way. Bucky blinks. He shakes it with his vibranium hand.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Well, I’m gay and you’re gorgeous,” he says candidly, giving it a good shake, “So, if that’s of any interest—”

“Can you please shut up, Climber?” comes an irritated rasp from you in your armchair. Bucky turns to watch as you raise your head and rub your eyes, “Christ, I just fell asleep.”

“And your little supersoldier just woke up,” Kiwi chirps from her preoccupation with the laptop and contents on it, “So why don’t you stop being a little baby and let him look at that gunshot wound.”

Bucky’s face falls flat. He drops the ice pack to the coffee table with a thwunk.

You sit up, gingerly trying to maneuver yourself so as to not bother both your ribs and your shoulder. It takes a moment, but finally you’re sitting up with only a dull ache of pain throbbing beneath your skin. Now, the real sting comes from the bitter look Bucky has pinned you with.

“You haven’t cleaned it yet?”

“The shits in the kitchen,” Kiwi waves at Bucky, as if to say told you so, “She fuckin’ refused to let me take care of it.”

“You’re going to get an infection if it stays in you any longer,” he snaps, standing to his feet, “Get up.”

“Kiwi isn’t exactly the most gentle person I know,” you manage to supply as an excuse as you move through the room, “And I know that thing isn’t coming out without a fight.”

He can feel the grey hairs coming in already.

You stand slowly, and Bucky looms behind you as you weave into the small apartment’s kitchen.

It’s barely lived in, but a few years ago it most definitely had life. Now, it’s mostly abandoned save for a few necessities. Kiwi had told you, a long time ago, about this spot — it was her parent’s place before the Snap. After the Blip, they ended up moving back to Massachusetts. Now abandoned by anyone seeking to really live in the one bedroom, it sits collecting dust until Kiwi inevitably needs it.

Like now.

“Up on the counter.”

You wince at his tone, but still thankful to be away from Kiwi and Climber’s prying eyes.

For the entire time Bucky had been out, you’d been subjected to a myriad of questions — all were fair, really, since Bucky did just bust out the Avenger-level super-moves on some Russian mafiosos for your sake, vibranium arm and all. The arm was really the biggest stuck point in the conversation as you tried your best to explain the nature of your relationship with the unconscious supersoldier on the couch. It was met with plenty of looks, both curious and skeptical.

You’re slow to hop up on the dusty marble countertop. From there, you watch Bucky poke through the kit that Kiwi had pulled from under the sink.

Then, with the calculated process of a man who has pulled one too many bullets from himself, Bucky slams the kit shut and wanders into the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of large tweezers. He’s silent as the dead as he rummages for a pan, fills it with water, and sets the gas burner on. He stares, watching the pot boil, as his foot taps against the floor.

You swallow down any comments.

There’s a clean towel beside you, and Bucky casually reached into the boiling water with his vibranium hand to retrieve the tweezers — whether or not he purposely ignored the pain is lost on you. You’re too busy anxiously spiraling into silence.

(He’s trying to ground himself, to feel something other than panic. It’s a mild spike, but it’s still panic. Because you’re hurt. Because you still have a fucking casing lodged in your shoulder and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. Because he saw it happen and then it was black, and now that anxiousness is creeping in.)

Rubbing alcohol, tweezers, gauze, tape, and… Jack Daniel’s.

It’s from the top of the fridge. It’s got a layer of dust on it — and it’s unopened.

Bucky unceremoniously pops the cap and hands the open bottle to you.

You take it and pause.

Bucky’s gaze is cold.

“You’re gonna want to take a few swigs, Doll.”

You almost snarl. You take a long drink then, ignoring the burn of the whiskey down your throat. It’s only when you’ve had enough to nearly gag that you hand the bottle back and then hiss:

“Don’t call me Doll.”

He takes the bottle and unceremoniously slams it down on the counter.

His movements are rough as he washes his hands — and if Bucky was a better person, maybe he’d take a second and parse through why he was feeling so damn irritable. But, no, no, he could figure out that he was angry at himself and you and Alexei Gardzov and Innessa Sidrova and fucking… everyone because he can’t have any normal relationships in his life without there being bloodshed or pain or suffering. That was enough, and he didn’t want to dig deeper into the nipping fear of losing you, not now, not when he had a job to do—

You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush your collarbone. He gently moves the delicate strap of your bodysuit, ignoring the soft skin beneath, and pulls the gauze away from your shoulder.

Your jacket had taken most of the impact it seems. Bucky frowns deeply at the pink fibers clinging to the entry wound. It’s a nasty puckered bit of flesh, smeared with blood, right in the soft muscle of your left shoulder. The hole is a little smaller than a quarter — Bucky recognizes it as shot from a 9mm almost immediately. He’s taken a few of these in his days. He’s glad it wasn’t close range. The burns from the muzzle flash make for nasty scars. He’d know. He has one on his back, right above his hip.

Bucky’s jaw is tight. He’s gritting his back teeth. His headache throbs angrily behind his eyes.

Bucky leans, eyeing the wound carefully. His limited reaction is enough to spark a little light of bravery in your gut, and you move to look at the hole — only to find a vibranium hand rooting your jaw in place. It’s gentle enough as it recorrects the line of your gaze straight ahead. His thumb rests on the curve of your chin as his index climbs your jaw, and the vibranium is warm and cold all at once. It’s an odd sensation. Not bad, but not flesh.

You like it.

(You find your mind quickly flashing with the thought of what that hand would feel like in other places. You ignore it.)

Your eyes are stuck on Bucky.

He’s clearly upset — the pinch between his brows and the evident scowl on his lips is enough of an indication. The bridge of his nose is busted and there’s a bruise crawling under his left eye. The shirt you’d given him is a wreck, and as he bends to snatch up a rubbing alcohol soaked pad, the feeling of shame creeps up on you. The anxiousness that’s settled in the pit of your stomach doesn’t help.

Arguably, it exacerbates the symptom.

The whiskey is slow to make an impact.

But, when Bucky finally swipes the gauze across the wound, your ankles have begun to tingle and it isn’t blinding white pain you feel — not yet. It’s sharp and it feels like he’s touching your shoulder blade when he presses his fingers into the holes to clean the immediate area. That has you grimacing tightly.

His obsidian-hued hand holds your face still through it.

So, you opt to stare.

His arm reminds you of some pottery you’d seen back at the Museum of Modern Art once, on a school trip. In a dimly lit room, spotlights lit up a row of vases that had been gilded back together with gold-dusted sap. You’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at those things. You can’t remember the name now, not while Bucky does one more pass across the wound. It started with a ‘k’. It was beautiful. You loved that exhibit. Why can’t you — fuck — remember the name? Kinsi… kinsigumi? Gumi. Kintsi —

You grit your teeth and grip the counter tightly. He pauses. You exhale.

You inhale.

Kintsugi.

The seams of his arm remind you of Kintsugi.

It’s beautiful.

Bucky’s eyes flit to yours. He sees your stare.

Maybe it’s the pain, or the half-cocked daze, but the look in your eyes is enough to spur an immediate reaction. Bucky scowls. He yanks his hand back, retreating to the supplies on the counter. He’s pulled, hard and fast, and now he seems miles away.

Quietly, and with a bit more chill than he intended, he speaks. “If it was making you nervous, you should have said something.”

It.

Your head snaps to him.

“What?” you ask, nearly incredulously.

He’s silent. He has the tweezers in his hand now.

Your eyes narrow critically — and instead of shame and anxiety, it’s hurt that flies off your tongue. It’s drenched in enough pain that Bucky hears it in the waver of your voice.

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

It’s nearly a whisper.

He swallows.

He ignores it. He has to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. Either way that conversation goes is enough to drag him into territory he can’t handle right now. Not when he needs to do this without his hands shaking.

“This is going to hurt.”

Your mouth is open — be it shock or anger, he’s not sure. Bucky, however, makes a point of ignoring your expression and your reaction by handing over the whiskey once more. You snatch it from his hands quickly. There’s a look on your face that makes his chest ache. With one last pass over him with your eyes, you take a long swig.

You feel like crying.

You won’t, though. Not now. Not while he does this.

You deserve this.

And holy fucking hell does it hurt. It’s like someone’s taken a hot poker and punctured your skin, then rotated it around and around and around. You can feel every time the tweezers touch the bullet because the metallic little click echoes in your chest. It’s enough to make your head spin, and you grit your teeth and close your eyes and try to breathe — but even after a handful of minutes, when Bucky finally retrieves the slug, there’s no relief. Just a desperate throb.

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the whiskey once more.

You do cry, finally, when Bucky packs the hole.

He rolls the gauze up tightly into a cylinder and, as gently as he can, pushes it in.

It’s a horrible choke of pain that you smother into your palm and pant through. It reminds you to breathe, and while you stare up at the water damage on the kitchen ceiling, Bucky tapes a square piece of gauze over the bruised wound and wraps your shoulder tightly. He takes his time, but there’s a curtness to his actions.

Finally, when he begins to clean up the mess of bloodied gauze, you speak.

“If you’re mad at me, then just say it.”

He snaps almost immediately, like a kicked dog. “And say what, Rabbit? That I almost lost you?”

Your mouth slips shut.

Bucky pauses what he’s doing. He drops the gauze onto the towel and he bares both hands against the counter top. He leans and exhales and drops his own head back — then, you can see his own waves of anxiety knocking him against the shore of composure. His eyes move back and forth, he inhales, and then after a long while he speaks.

It’s calmer. Not so horribly mean.

“You should have told me about Alexei.”

You go to speak — but he stops you.

“I mean really, really told me,” he explains, “Had I known he wanted your fucking head mounted on a spike, I would have kept you far away from that place.”

“We had to—”

“No,” he says sternly, standing up full height, “No, we didn’t. We never have to do anything that’s going to put you in danger. Never. I won’t do it again. You should have fuckin’ told me.”

You’re quiet.

“A few more inches to the right,” he says, gesturing to your throat with his finger. His eyes are expressive and he’s speaking like he’s lived this experience, “You’d be dead. Cold and dead and I’d be here, carrying the fucking guilt around with me because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

His voice splinters at the end — but he’s moved to throw away the gauze and dump the tweezers in the sink. He can’t look at you as he says it, and you know that. Because, just like before, people like you and him have a hard time looking the truth in the eyes.

You slide off the counter.

Your heart is sad. It’s heavy and mournful and weighed down with guilt.

“Bucky.”

It’s soft. He’s scrubbing your blood from his hands.

He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He can feel the prick of an anxious breakdown beginning to climb into his eyes. Instead, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and your blood is stuck in the plating of his hand and it’s not going to come out—

Think of what could have happened if it had been a few inches to the right. The arched spray. Blood everywhere. She can’t speak through the gargle, she’s going cold, she’s gone. And, like always, you’re alone again, Bucky.

Then, your hands are on his.

The touch is enough to stop him. It’s enough for him to move aside at the large, inset kitchen sink. You exhale slowly as you run the water a little warmer and gingerly run his hands under the tap. Your hands are smaller than his, a bit more delicate, and he’s stunned into a sharp silence at the feeling of your fingertips gently washing away the crimson blood.

You grab another dish towel from a drawer beside the stove.

Then, in the dim light of the kitchen, you take both his hands and dry them.

It’s the vibranium hand that you pay special attention to, though. And Bucky feels like a fucking idiot — just standing there, just watching as you run the rag between the gilded plating and use gentle pressure to get into the harder to reach spots. You turn it over, and you dry his knuckles.

You take your time.

You don’t look up when you speak. You’re focused. Almost reverent.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say sternly.

His mouth is dry. “Rabbit…”

Bucky shifts on his feet and takes a deep inhale. He feels lightheaded.

The whiskey, and the closeness of the two of you, makes your skin warm. His whole nervous system feels like it’s on fire.

“I didn’t mean to stare, I don’t ever mean to,” you apologize as your hands still over his arm. He watches your irises trace the plating above his wrist. The rag is forgotten, its purpose null. Your words are heavy, and Bucky can hear a little shake in them as you swallow, “I just… think it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful.

Even now, blood-soaked and sweat-stained. With makeup running down your cheeks and your composure in shambles. Even now, on the run and apparently wanted, you’re incredibly beautiful. Bucky hates how easy it is to admit and how hard it is to keep off his tongue. It nearly gets the better of him. He watches your eyelashes flutter. When you look up at him, the world is suddenly drowned in honey.

“I’m sorry.”

You mean it.

Your bottom lip wobbles.

Bucky, immediately, regrets being so goddamn cold.

You were just trying to help — you were just trying to do the right thing.

“Stop it. Come here.”

The hug is the first time you can remember touching him like this. You think you’ll always remember it, too. It’s sturdy and warm and gentle and honest and you bury your face into the shoulder as his arms come up around your neck. He’s careful of your own injured shoulder, and his fingers find the base of your neck. Around his waist, your fingers dig into the back of his shirt. Both of you ground yourselves in the other’s arms, and for the first time in a handful of hours, you both find peace.

Quiet, sturdy, lovely peace.

And the two of you stay like that for a while in the quiet little kitchen.

It’s not until Climber’s voice rises from the living room that you’re pulled away from Bucky — and even then, your face linger inches from one another for a moment too long. Neither of you say a word, only swallow down confessions that could have been, and move on.

“Oh, girlie, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Bucky frowns. With your brows knotted tightly together, you weave through the kitchen and back into the living room.

Kiwi has sat up and both her and Climber have their eyes on the bulky flat screen on the dust-covered entertainment center. It’s cable news, and as Climber leans to turn the television up, a picture of you flashes across the screen.

It’s a photo from your arrest six months ago.

“Local authorities are asking that anyone with information on the whereabouts of this young woman call the FBI’s anonymous tip line—”

“Is there a reward?” Climber whispers almost excitedly, eyes on the screen.

“—Authorities are offering $100,000 dollars to the person who provides enough information to lead up to this dangerous fugitive’s capture.”

“Dangerous fugitive?” hisses Bucky.

“A hundred thousand dollars?” cries Kiwi, “Who the fuck did you piss off?”

You inhale deeply as you wave your hands. “The bigger question is who the fuck knew I was going to The Glass Cannon last night. Because they’re looking for me — not you.”

You point at Bucky and the gears are turning in your head.

The pacing is almost immediate, and Bucky crosses his arms tightly as you begin to walk back and forth behind the full length couch that Climber is currently spread out on.

It’s cut short, though, by Kiwi’s laptop chiming successfully.

“Well,” she stands quickly, “I have a feeling that someone knows you’re onto them. And the facial recognition software just got a match. A three point one, too.”

Your eyes brighten.

You’d given Kiwi the photo of the young Innessa, with all her decorated furs and blonde curls. She’s laughing and she’s young and she’s in love and it’s hard for you to imagine a woman like her to be dangerous. While you’d made sure Bucky was propped up comfortably on the couch and then finally calmed down from the adrenaline high enough to get comfortable yourself, Kiwi had dug out the hard-drive she kept on her at all times and began pulling data from the Alexandria Library files.

It had been a handful of hours, so it was clear that Innessa had hid herself well in the vast, expansive database SHIELD kept for all those years while it was in operation.

Bucky is quick to gather behind Kiwi, eyes scanning the screen.

Sure enough, when you come to look at the photos pulled up on Kiwi’s screen, there’s a hit. There’s an identification card photo of an older woman, maybe in her forties, pulled up alongside the photo Bucky had given you. Her hair is no longer blonde, but deep auburn color. She’s marked as having worked with Rumlow — a supervisor of some sort. Makes sense. You didn’t need to see a picture of Crossbones to remember Brock. Even when you’d interned, he’d been infamous.

And that was when he was one of the good guys.

There’s a handful of other photos of her — candids, professional photos, and even one where she is shaking Tony Stark’s hand.

And in all of them, you see your next door neighbor Bonnie McLayne.

“Fuck.”

Bucky blinks. Kiwi turns to look at you over her shoulder.

Again, you speak. Your eyes are wide. You can’t look away from the screen.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Rabbit…?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky’s face narrows considerably, confusion melting to make room for realization.

His voice is quiet.

“Do you know her?”

“Oh my god,” you say loudly, shaking your head and blinking, “Oh my fucking god, that’s my neighbor.”

Bucky can feel his whole face go clammy.

“The neighbor who—”

“—Who I showed your fucking picture to,” you nearly shriek, “Like it was some cute little matchmaking game!”

Immediately both hands are over your face as you throw your head back. Now, the pacing has begun, and like you’re being carried on autopilot, you begin to move back and forth and back and forth and—

“You don’t think she’d hurt Poke, do you?”

“Rabbit.”

“Oh god, oh god—”

Oh.

Oh, you’re having a panic attack.

Oh, that was quick. Brutally fast. Nearly immediate.

After all, she knows where your family lives. She gets Holiday cards from mom to give to you. She’s been your closest friend for nearly six years. But she’s not Bonnie, she’s Innessa fucking Sidrova. She’s seen you with Bucky. She knows — she knows a lot and you don’t know anything and you’re miles from home, from Poke, from Mom, from Ana… Oh, god, the baby. The baby.

“The baby.”

Bucky’s voice is level. “Rabbit, you gotta calm down.”

“I have to call my mom.”

“No,” Kiwi snaps immediately, “They’re going to be watching for your cell phone pings. No calls, no texting, none of it. And god forbid this woman is one step ahead of the FBI—”

“Oh, god.”

You gasp like a fish out of water, paralyzing fear sending you to lean against the back of the couch.

You claw at your chest and try to remember what Dr. Hart said about these sorts of moments. Square breathing. In and hold and out and hold. Again and again.  

“Sit down,” Bucky says as he returns to your side, nearly sweeping you up long enough to plop you down into the armchair from before, “And do me a favor and breathe.”

The whiskey isn’t helping right now.

“I’m trying.”

Another gasped breath.

Climber and Kiwi watch.

Bucky shakes his head sternly, kneeling on one knee and snagging your hands. “Don’t try. Just do it. You can do it. Just follow my lead — you’re the sidekick, after all. Remember? C’mon. There’s the smile. Breathe.”

So you do.

In, hold. Out, hold. You draw a square with one hand on your jeans and hold onto Bucky’s with the other.

Again, in and hold. Out and hold.

And again.

And then, you just listen to Bucky’s breathing.

You’re not sure how long it takes — half an hour, ten minutes, who knows — but finally you’re able to calm the spiraling thoughts in your head. Finally, the loudness quiets down, you catch your breath, and the world isn’t falling apart. The bite of anxiety still remains in the hollow of your chest and Bucky can see that when you finally open your eyes and squeeze his hand.

There’s that look again between the two of you. The one from before, in the kitchen.

“Good?” he asks quietly, blue eyes swimming with some sort of emotion you can’t really pin down. Not now. Maybe, if you’d been a bit more collected, you would have seen it as infatuation. But, no. It’s just… nice.

You swallow and nod.

“Damn, girl,” says Climber from his spot on the couch, “Now I’m starting to get the whole therapy thing.”

“Thanks, dickhead.”

“That’s recent, isn’t it?” he asks, genuine worry crossing his face as he stands to gently pass a hand over your back, “I don’t remember it ever being this bad.”

Your face is sad. “I was just partying through it back then. Distraction was always the best method and then… When I had no more distractions and it was just me? Alone? And, psh, the accident with Jaimie? It got worse. So much worse.”

Climber’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, bunny.”

You try to put on a brave face.

Bucky stands from in front of you and begins his own pacing. This one isn’t so much born out of anxious nature — but more of a tactical logic born out of keeping you safe.

This wasn’t exactly the turn he was expecting.

“You didn’t recognize her?” he asks after a moment, voice high and tight.

“I’m sorry,” you wave a hand, exasperated, “She doesn’t exactly look the same as she did in the 70s.”

Kiwi frowns at the screen. “Definitely botox.”

Bucky squints. He looks to you for an explanation.

You vaguely gesture to your face.

His brow lifts, he closes his eyes, and he sighs.

Kiwi is next to pipe up. “It explains why the feds are looking for you, especially if she saw you with the one man she knows is looking to hunt her down — so, I think it’s best the both of you lay low for a couple of days.”

“Not to mention,” Climber wags a finger, “Bucky the Babe over here did just piss off one the smaller Russian crime families in New York. So, there’s always that ontop of the evil Nazi-HYDRA-woman-next-door.”

You groan.

“Poke has enough food for a week,” Bucky says nearly reading your mind, “He’ll be fine.”

“So, what? We just wait here? Until something happens?”

“Sidrova is going to try and bait us out,” Bucky mutters, “She knows she can’t just disappear. She’s been settled for too long and we know too much. Engaging us in an altercation is how she’ll do it. Plus, I have a feeling she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot me in the knees after a few decades. So, we wait.”

“Few decades?” Kiwi whispers.

“How old are you?” Climber asks.

“Hundred and six.”

Both of them just blink at an unphased Bucky.

You sigh, finally standing on wobbly legs. “This feels like a bad idea. I’m just stating that for the record.”

“Better than her hunting the both of you down,” Kiwi supplies, “You can stay here. There’s cable, there’s booze, and there’s plenty of instant ramen to last you until winter.”

“Stale cereal, too.”

“Wait— where are you two going?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, “You’re leaving?”

“Keeping our hands clean,” Kiwi says, closing her laptop, “And letting you be the sidekick, bunny.”

The sadness in your heart grows a little heavier at those words, but there’s a little bit of pride in Kiwi’s tone. As she stands, she moves to wrap her arms around you in a gentle hug. Quietly, she murmurs into your hair.

“Your dad would be proud of you, y’know.”

Bucky watches.

Climber is next, and that hug is bigger, more brotherly, more like sunshine and less like autumn.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rabbit.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of them gather their belongings, “For dragging you both into this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help me—”

“Yeah, we did,” Kiwi chirps as she knocks Bucky on the arm three times, “Keep her safe, aakarshak purush.”

The Hindi rolls off her tongue with ease.

Bucky laughs. “Bahut lamba.”

Kiwi pauses mid-step. She narrows her eyes. There’s a smile on her lips. “Your pronunciation isn’t bad.”

He shrugs plainly. “I get lunch almost everyday at the Indian place below my apartment, so. The owner has been teaching me some stuff on the side.”

An approving nod.

Kiwi hucks you the keys across the room.

She points at Bucky.

“I like him. Try not to fuck that up, eh?”

And then, the two of them are gone.

And it’s just you and Bucky in the empty apartment.