#just pretend he's standing on a stall

[gender-euphowrya]

i love the mens bathrooms so fucking much some dude showed me how he clogged the toilet

[sleepymarimo]

❝𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩!❞

synopsis: you're tasked with waking up zoro for dinner, but it's hard to make him budge.

pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: more tooth rotting fluff for my favorite swordsman :) wc: ~1.6k an: i had a dream about this and added some even more fluff because why not. ty all i hope you enjoy <3 also i realized i have a decent chunk of zoro fics about napping lol maybe this is why im sleepymarimo i just love that sleepy lil guy

"Where the hell is that shitty swordsman?" Sanji grumbles, cigarette hanging from his lips as he sets a hefty plate of rice on the dining table.

Even though you're acutely aware that the marimo is missing, you pretend to peer over shoulders and swivel your head to give the impression that you're just as clueless as everyone else. You're already sat at the table, utensils neatly resting beside your plate.

Everyone else is already in the dining room, Luffy practically on the brink of perishing as the food is placed before him. Chopper and Usopp are close behind, their forks glinting in the light.

Robin is patient, smiling at the sight before her, the one she's grown to love. "I believe he said something about taking a nap," she reveals, her fingers wrapping around the stem of a wine glass. "He might be holed up in the boy's room."

"You mean the men's room?" Franky speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood, the cola bottle in his hand hissing as he pops the cap.

Nami shakes her head, not in the mood to entertain the hooligans she calls her crewmates- her family. When Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper start to chant for their food, the navigator's last straw cracks into a million pieces.

Her chair slides back with a screech as she stands, planting her hands on the table. "Ugh, I can't believe that guy, sleeping through dinner!" The sigh she gives is intentionally dramatic, her charm working its magic as Sanji quickly offers to knock some sense into the green-haired swordsman.

It all comes to a halt when a pair of hands sprout from the table, tugging at the cook's shirt in a silent command to stay put. All eyes go to Robin, her knowing gaze easily hiding whatever ploy is running through her mind.

She calls your name and you immediately feel your cheeks warm, though you still feign obliviousness even if it seems like she's peeking right into your brain.

"Why don't you get Zoro?" she suggests, yet deep down you know you don't have an option.

Even if the thought of protesting crosses your mind, the chorus of growling stomachs and pleas for you to hurry have you standing and scampering up the stairs and to the deck.

Standing in front of the door to the boy's cabin, you feel your stomach drop a bit. You're quite literally entering a tiger's den, into the willing jaws of a beast who has been known to treasure booze, swords, and naps above all else.

The air inside the room is significantly more warm, heavy, compared to the cool breeze blowing outside. It's dark, your eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting as you carefully step over shoes and dirty clothes.

For a moment the beds seem empty and you wonder if he's even inside, yet the massive figure atop one of the bunks makes you quickly reconsider that thought.

His bare back rises and falls at a leisurely pace, his arms sprawled over the sides of the bed while he lays on his front. Cheek pressed comfortably into his pillow, Zoro naps away without much care for anything else.

After gawking for a second or two, you step toward the bunk, mentally cursing, and steel yourself for what feels like the millionth time. The wooden structure is a bit too tall for you to get a look at him, so with a small grunt you step onto the bottom bunk and grip onto the rails to hoist yourself up.

As soon as you take a glimpse over the top bunk's railing, you feel the warmth of his exhales across your nose and cheeks. It makes your face warm, your own breaths stalling as you take in the sight of him looking so… serene.

His face is softened, relaxed, a stark contrast to the pinched brows and scowls he usually wears.

Imagining the exasperated faces of your hungry crewmates, you get on with your small mission. Even though you're there to wake him, you're considerate enough to keep mindful of your tone. "Zoro?" comes his name from your lips, a murmur not quite suited for waking a beast.

The most you get out of him is the slight wrinkling of his nose, like a fly had perched there for a second before buzzing off. In a way it's expected given that he's slept through storms and whole marine attacks.

Your tone is louder the next time you call his name, more firm, his silhouette becoming pronounced as your eyes adjust to the dark room. "Zoro," you call again, arms starting to ache from how you're pulling yourself up to the top bunk.

Again, nothing. It's almost comical at this point, really.

You resist the urge to groan in frustration, your options becoming more limited. Time really isn't on your side here, not when the odds of a hungry pirate barging into the room increases by the second.

Taking a big breath, you decide that this is going to be the last try. This is going to be the one to wake the marimo, whether he likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the sea has other plans for you.

The ship hits a patch of rough water, the violent movement causing you to lose your grip on the railing tethering you to the top bunk. Your breath also catches when the sudden jolt makes your feet slip off the mattress belonging to the bottom bed, your heart skipping a beat when you feel yourself starting to fall back.

You're fully prepared to brace yourself against the harsh floor, your muscles tensing and jaw tightening, but you don't even have the chance to fall back a single inch.

A strong arm, previously hanging limp over the bed, curls around your waist and holds you steady. It supports all your weight, even as your legs kick out in an attempt to find solid ground. With your face suddenly squished into the junction of his neck, your own arms act on instinct and wrap around his shoulders.

Zoro's awake now, steel-grey eye open and aware as if he hadn't been knocked out cold just seconds ago. His senses have a unique threshold, not bothering to pick up on the calls of his name but always managing to be ready when his crewmates need him most- especially you.

His skin is warm, a tell tale sign that he'd probably been napping for hours. Tightening his grip on you, he sits up, pulling you with him. You're still disoriented, wondering why you haven't hit the floor, but he's as sharp as ever.

"The hell are you doin'?" he grumbles, voice still heavy from his rest, carrying that delightful rasp. His irritated tone is a facade, more of a light chide than anything. "You tryin' t'break your neck or something?"

You feel like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a couple times while you're still dangling from the top bunk. It's hard to not get in a few mumbled apologies, not knowing if he's ticked from being stirred from his sleep.

"Dinner is ready," you reply, managing to find your words, your hold on him not letting up due to fear of falling once more. He feels so warm, the definition of a guilty pleasure, and you're left to exert as much self-control as possible.

He lets out a scoff, amused, then grunts as he finally realizes you're still hanging over the bed. His hand moves, sliding across your waist to grab at the back of your shirt. While Zoro's strength is known throughout all the seas, it always leaves you in awe. With nothing more than a bicep curl, he hoists you up and onto the top bunk with him.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sink into the soft mattress, the bunk creaking with the added weight and how Zoro shifts into a seated position. Legs crossed over one another, he stretches his arms over head, unintentionally showing off his physical prowess.

Your eyes find the ceiling out of respect, but mostly because you're another second away from bursting into flames.

He yawns, then rubs at the back of his neck. "Dinner, huh?" he repeats, finding the answer satisfactory enough and shrugging his shoulders. "They sent the right person. I don't need that shitty cook hurling a kick my way."

You nod and even get out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure waking up to me almost falling is a lot better," you joke, looking over the bunk to see the drop to the floor.

"It's no problem," he assures, his gold earrings catching in the slivers of moonlight entering through the window as a lazy smirk grows on his face. "I got ya."

While you'd be willing to skip dinner to stay with the swordsman, your stomach protests with a hefty grumble. Zoro's stomach follows suit, making it's need for food known. The timing of it makes another laugh slide past your lips, a sound that makes his smirk soften into something more genuine.

With a small grunt, he hops off of the top bunk and lands on the floor with a solid thud. "Alright," he starts, stretching his back out a bit more before lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's go eat." His arms raise, ready to help you down from the bed. Whether you want to take the ladder or propel yourself into his embrace, he silently vows to be there to offer support. Although Zoro could be stubborn, gruff, and brash, he'd never let you fall, not ever.

[charliemwrites]

Woof, grrr, woof

No content warnings

Your trip to the vet turns up nothing. No microchips, and none of the staff recognize the wolf-dog. They’re the only vet in town too, and he looks too pristine to have come from another…

“You’re a weird little guy, huh?” you muse on the car ride to the pet store.

The vet office was kind enough to make a file for him, standing name “Buddy”. If you get to keep him, you’re definitely changing it. They also gave you a spare leash so that you wouldn’t have to leave him in the car while you shop.

It’s a pitifully flimsy thing, but the dog seems leashed trained and does tug. Could probably let him off it and he’d stay glued to your side.

The shopping is even weirder. He doesn’t seem very distracted by treats or food, only snaps at other dogs when they get into his personal space. Otherwise, he just stays right next to you, tongue occasionally lapping at your hanging fingers.

“Beautiful dog,” a man says to you. An older guy, rugged, looking at toys.

You shift. “Thank you.”

“Should really be feeding a beast like that a raw diet.”

“Raw diet?”

“What they get in the wild. All that processed shite ain’t good for ‘em.”

You thank him for the advice over the dog’s grumbling. A quick internet search on your phone reveals it’s not a bad idea, actually. Not too expensive either.

“Raw it is,” you muse.

He tilts his head, make a low “woof”. You scratch absently at his ears as you continue shopping. Let him pick toys - his favorite a squeaky grenade of all things that he refuses to put down. You get a big matching set of food and water bowls, a cushy dog bed, a parasite repellent. Even some dog pads in case he’s not house trained.

You stall in the leash aisle, a bit overwhelmed by the choices of leashes and collars and harnesses.

“How do you feel about pink…?”

Snort.

“Yeah didn’t think so. I didn’t like the rhinestones anyway. You’d probably end up eating one and shitting glitter.”

A long whine.

“Oh, sorry, is that embarrassing? Poor love.”

The gentlest scrape of big teeth at your knuckles. You chuckle and tap two fingers on his sandpaper tongue. His head jerks back, tongue flicking in offense.

“S’what you get, dummy.”

Shaking your head, turn back to the selection. The pup huffs, shakes his head, and noses at something lower. It’s a deep green - army, you think the shade is called - collar with a silver buckle instead of a snap clip.

“Not bad,” you muse. “Matches the whole woodsy vibe we’ve got going.”

You find the matching leash and harness set, dropping it in your cart. You receive several more compliments on your big gorgeous dog, though he refuses to let anyone pet him. You awkwardly make excuses that he’s a recent rescue and try to avoid further conversation.

The last stop is at the kiosk for a tag. You can’t just let him go without one, but you despise officially naming him “Buddy.”

You end up just putting your name, number, and address on there. A matte black heart engraved with silver.

“What do you think?” you ask, offering it for a sniff.

The dog doesn’t even pretend to be interested, just takes the opportunity to drag his tongue over your wrist again. You huff and wipe off on your pants.

“Gonna have to take another bath at this rate.”

You ignore his grumble - it’s uncanny at this point, how quick he is to respond - and guide him out to the car. He hops into the passenger seat, flops over into your lap first chance he gets. You have to nudge his snout away from your crotch again, but he seems satisfied with a hand smoothing over his head.

Home is warm when you arrive. You set up your new dog’s things, buckle him into his new collar, tag and all.

“There,” you coo, dropping smooches all over his head. “Look at how handsome you are, sweet boy! Can I have a kiss?”

You yelp as he barrels you over onto your back, well over 100 pounds of wolf-dog stretching over you. You turn your face away as he licks at your mouth, trying to get inside. You remember reading somewhere that that’s a wolf thing; just another tick in the “hybrid” box.

“Gross, gross! Nooooo,” you laugh, covering his snout. You squeal as his tongue flickers between two fingers. “Nasty boy! You’re so rude!!”

He finally lets you up with much coaxing, looking far too pleased with himself.

You make yourself dinner, providing your dog with scraps of chicken and unseasoned veggies based on your online reading. He seems happy with the offering, eats it all up with gusto.

As the evening comes, you stretch out on the couch. Finally feel brave enough to put on a scary movie now that you’ve got a big-ass deterrent.

Your dog even climbs up to cuddle, head on your chest while you hug him through scary parts. The really interesting part comes at the end, during the climax.

“Heeeeeere’s Johnny!”

Your new companion perks up, eyes on the screen.

“Oh? Is… is that your name? Is your name Johnny?”

His head snaps around to you, ears straight up and eyes bright.

“Johnny…” you croon, trying it out.

He makes a little “boof” noise and wriggles closer.

“Johnny baby,” you continue, grinning. “Johnny boy. John John the bon bon.”

It’s utter nonsense, but it makes his tail thump against the cushions, leaving slobbery kisses of excitement all over your neck and jaw.

“Alright alright!” you laugh, dropping a kiss on the top of his nose. “Johnny it is. Thank fuck I don’t have to come up with a name. Was thinking of calling you Philip or Simon or something.”

You yelp as he starts to make gagging sounds, nearly kicking him off the couch before it seems to subside.

“Good lord, bud,” you breathe as he grumbles and settles his head on your thigh, puffing out a big breath through his nose. “You’re gonna be a handful.”

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Masterlist

[ellecdc]

PART 2 PLSSSSSSSSSSS

I need the comfort

ok ok ok ok ok mother's here - I've fixed it for you. Don't say I never did anything for ya 😉

part two of Mistake: poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: angst, hurt and COMFORT read part one here

Remus felt like he’d just been slapped. In fact, he was sure that if he looked in a mirror, he would see a red welt in the shape of your hand across his cheek. 

Lupin?

You haven’t called him that since...well since you started dating. As a matter of fact, he can’t remember the last time you referred to him in any way other than some sickly-sweet pet name that he pretended embarrassed him, but he secretly preened at. 

I’ll see you around.

What the hell did that mean? What just happened?

He felt stuck...perhaps he should go after you? But you told him to go check on Sirius: make sure he’s okay for me, yeah? And he meant what he had said – the three of you would be back to normal in no time. They’d catch up with you tomorrow.

Remus tried to replay every interaction you had tonight. You had asked how their days were...he replied and asked how yours was. Should he have asked you first?

He should have asked you first.

You tried making conversation, but Remus was so hyper focused on Sirius’ mood – afraid that he’d do or say something out of pocket that would hurt your feelings – that each attempt sort of fell flat. Remus had been there before – he’s witnessed Sirius’ tendency to self-sabotage and ruin a good thing once he finally has it, and he didn’t want that to happen again. Not with you.

He knew what Sirius really needed was some quiet; a chance to ponder and lament angrily inside his own head without outside influence.

Maybe they should have cancelled – rescheduled your study date for another time. Clearly his effort to protect you from any negativity was in vain.  

But it was just a bad day, a blip, a one-off. You would all get some good sleep tonight and reconvene tomorrow.

Right?

Maybe he should have followed you.

But by the time he could manage to pry his feet from the floor of the library that he felt cemented to, you were gone. 

He would just have to talk it out with you tomorrow.

Remus entered his dorm to find Peter already asleep on his bed, James finishing the Transfiguration essay that was due tomorrow morning on his own bed, and both Remus and Sirius’ beds empty. 

“Pads around?” Remus asked James quietly as he began to shuck off his uniform. The quiet tone was mostly for courtesy’s sake knowing Peter could sleep through a stampede of hippogriffs.

James peered at Remus from above his glasses before nodding his head towards the bathroom door.

Sure enough, Remus found Sirius leaning against the shower stall with his eyes closed as the water cascaded around his form. 

“You almost done, love?” Remus asked gently. Sirius spooked slightly as he turned to look at Remus; his eyes were red and glossy...he had been crying.

“You didn’t stay with her?”

Remus fought the urge to grimace, to heave, to turn around and run. He opted to gently shake his head. “No, she... said she got most of what she needed to do done.”

Sirius seemed to consider that as he sighed. “Was she terribly upset? I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be an ass. I know James always says I’m quick to take it out on others – I tried really hard not to, honest. I swear it, Rem I-”

Remus began shaking his head as he moved towards Sirius. He could tell by the smell in the bathroom that Sirius had already washed his hair and there were no more suds on his body, so he turned the water off and handed Sirius a towel. 

“You were fine, Sirius. She’s – she’s fine.” He lied.

He lied. He lied to Sirius. About you.

But how could he look Sirius in the eye right now – Sirius who was currently standing naked, soaking wet, nearly hyperventilating, not over his disgusting parents but because he was afraid that he may have upset you – and tell him that between the maybe seven minutes since Sirius had left the library and now, Remus had completely mucked it all up?

The answer was: he couldn’t. He couldn’t look Sirius in the eye and admit that he may have just sabotaged your relationship.

It’s going to be fine. He tried to tell himself. We’ll fix this all tomorrow.

You felt beyond childish, hiding in your dorm room like some toddler throwing a temper tantrum. But you had decided last night that what you really needed was space. Some breathing room. A chance to see this from a different lens. A different perspective.

And you couldn’t do that when your heart was breaking. And being around Remus and Sirius felt like that right now.

It felt heart breaking. 

And perhaps that was your answer right there. If this was causing you heart ache, why were you doing it to yourself? To them? You didn’t deserve that, and neither did they.

But it wasn’t just this you were worried about. It was more than just this relationship – it was the friendship that preceded it. It was the meshing of you into their circle of friends. You were their friend long before you were ever their girlfriend. You wouldn’t just be losing Remus and Sirius: your boyfriend’s; you’d also be losing Remus and Sirius: your friend’s.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you said yes.

Suddenly, you were a little angry: they had asked you to be their girlfriend – not the other way around! Why would they put you through all of this for, what? For...

Was it really for nothing?

“Are you coming to breakfast?” Shelby asked you quietly from the door. You shifted your head on the pillow to make eye contact with her. “No, I’ve got some things to work on. I think I’ll hang out up here today.”

She seemed to consider you, eyes squinting and mouth pursing before she offered a curt nod. “I’ll bring something back for you then.”

You smiled gratefully at her. At least you knew if you did lose Remus and Sirius, you would still have friends who cared about you. 

Sirius spent most of his life believing he’d never be worthy of nice things. He was raised by monsters which meant he was a product of monsters; he was basically a monster.

He knew that the Black Darkness was always simmering just below the surface. It was archetypal of Black’s to explode; to lace their words with venom and strike at their victim, always aiming for the jugular. It had been Sirius’ own M.O. for his whole life. He had nearly lost everyone who ever meant anything to him on account of it. He had almost lost Moony.

Which is why it was so important to him that you never end up the latest victim of his Black Darkness. He was so afraid of disappointing you, letting you down, making you feel unloved. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to live with himself if he slipped – if he said something or did something to make you hate him. 

And it wasn’t just you he was worried about hurting; he knew if he hurt you, Remus would likely never forgive him.

Remus may have forgiven Sirius for his Darkness once; he didn’t want to risk trying for a second time. Sirius felt he’d hit his threshold for forgiveness – one more sin and he’d be on his own, surely.

So, he walked away. He tried to do it nicely – to excuse himself politely, assure you he’d be back in no time. 

But he still left.

It was cowardly. 

He needed to talk to you.

Which is why Sirius could be found that morning sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, knee bouncing frantically under the table and his body turned towards the entrance – waiting for you to make an appearance.

Except, you never came.

“Wait, Shelby just walked in without her. Where is she?” He asked despondently, turning towards Remus. 

Remus watched as Shelby and a few of your other friends sat at their usual places without you. “Come on.” He said quickly as the two of them stood and made their way over.

“Hey Shelby. Do you know where Y/N is?” Remus asked quietly, hoping his guilt didn’t permeate his tone. Unfortunately, under Shelby’s scrutinizing glance, he was sure he had been found out. 

“She’s in the dorm.” She said flatly, looking between the two boys. 

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus before continuing. “Erm, do you...do you know why?” 

Shelby furrowed her brows “all she said was she had ‘some things to work on’ and that she’d be in the room today.”

Remus hissed under his breath and pulled Sirius aside.

“Pads, I’m sorry, but I think-”

“What is going on?” Sirius interrupted.

“Last night, I... I think Y/N was upset?”

“Upset? With me?” Sirius asked, shame worming its way through every cell in his body. 

“I don’t know. I... I don’t think so. But she...she said she’d ‘see me around’ and then called me Lupin.” 

All blood drained from Sirius’ face as he considered Remus’ words.

See him around...see him around!? What the hell did that mean? Did you not plan on seeing them again? Oh gods...you never planned on seeing them again.

“Rem...” Sirius breathed out, leaning against a pillar for support.

“I know, I don’t-”

“Good grief, what’s gotten into you two?” James commented as he walked into the Great Hall with Lily, who opted to carry on in her search for Regulus as James took in the state of his two friends.

“Well? What’s got you in such a twist?” He pressed when neither boy offered an explanation.

“It’s Y/N.” Remus admitted.

“She’s leaving us.” Sirius blurted.

“Okay, we don’t know that.” Remus conceded.

Sirius scoffed. “Well, she basically told you to go fuck yourself last night and now she’s avoiding us; what do you call that?”

“She didn’t tell me to go fuck myself!”

James groaned and rolled his eyes before grabbing Remus and Sirius’ shirts and dragging them over to the Slytherin table.

“That’s it. You guys need to talk to Regulus.” James muttered.

“Regulus?!” Sirius sputtered, looking at James incredulously. “I’m not asking my baby brother for relationship advice.”

“You’re not asking for relationship advice. You’re asking for his perspective on his own relationship.”

“Ew! That’s worse! I don’t want to hear about my baby brother’s relationship with my adoptive brother.” 

“Oh for- you are going to listen to Regulus’ perspective on what it’s like being added to a polyamorous relationship last.” James pressed, tone implying no nonsense. 

Sirius (unwillingly) and Remus (placidly) were dragged to the dark side (read: the Slytherin table) to be read their Miranda Rights have their asses handed to them by one Regulus Arcturus Black. 

“Reg, dear. I’m begging, pleading, on my hands and knees: put the poor sods out of their misery.” James said as he bodily sat Remus and Sirius on the bench across from Regulus.

Lily snickered and poked her nose into Regulus’ cheek, causing the youngest Black to blush, though the rest of his face remained stoic as he sized Sirius and Remus up.

“What have the two of you done now?” He drawled. “I can’t help but notice one third – arguably the better third - of your little trio is missing.”

Sirius scoffed, though he didn’t argue – Regulus wasn’t wrong per se; he loved Moony, but you were indeed the best of the bunch.

James cleared his throat pointedly as he shot Remus and Sirius a look.

“Right, er” Remus started awkwardly. “We seem to have, uhm. I mean to say that-”

“Why does Y/N hate us?” Sirius spat, slapping a hand over his mouth immediately afterwards as if those words had fallen from his mouth without his consent.

“Y/N? As in your girlfriend, Y/N?” Regulus asked, moving his eyes between his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

“Yes, as in our girlfriend.” Remus muttered.

“What did you say to offend her?” James asked unhelpfully.

“Do you think if we knew that, we’d be here right now?” Sirius spat back. 

“No, I don’t think that.” Regulus answered for him. “What I think has probably happened is she’s feeling terribly insecure in your relationship and neither of you have done anything to help her.”

Well that shut Sirius up... Sirius noticed that Remus was pretty quiet too.

“Were...” Sirius asked, grimacing when he looked over at Lily and James knowing this was teetering slightly into the realm of things-he-doesn’t-really-want-to-know-about-his-brother’s-relationship-with-his-best-friend territory. But damnit, Sirius was as desperate man. And desperate times called for desperate measures. “Were you terribly insecure when you started dating...these two?” Sirius sneered the end of his sentence earning him a ‘hey!’ from Lily and a solid whack up the back of the head from James.

“Yes.” Regulus answered simply.

“Why?” Remus asked, looking desperately close to pulling out his notebook to take notes. Scratch that, Sirius watched as James swallowed a teasing remark when Remus actually pulled out a notebook to take notes. 

“It’s hard coming after. There’s a part of your brain that convinces you that you are second best; that you’ve somehow come in second place. If that’s not bad enough, then you begin spending time with two people who already have history, already have a connection, and already have a rhythm that doesn’t leave much room to pull you into the mix. And if it does pull you into the mix, you end up feeling terribly guilty for disrupting that rhythm. It’s all quite difficult.”

Sirius’ mouth hung open at Regulus’ demure tone on what sounded like a really heartbreaking situation. 

“Let me ask you this,” Regulus continued, unawares of Sirius’ inner dialogue (which consisted mostly of panicked ‘oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods). “How has your relationship – between the two of you – changed since you added a third?”

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance before looking back at Regulus. “Uhm...not, really?”

“Not much at all.” Remus admitted more clearly.

“I see...” Regulus said, narrowing his gaze. “And how much time have each of you spent with her individually without the other present?”

Regulus got his answer in the form of awkward silence. 

“How did either of you expect your relationship to work if neither of you were willing to change the nature of yours in order to help it grow?” Regulus spat. 

“Well...” Remus started, but his sentence died when he realized there was nothing to say. 

“But...you stayed? Why?” Sirius asked his brother.

At this, Regulus’s face fell as he gave Sirius a sad smile. “Because of how we were raised, Sirius. I was so excited to be wanted, even for a moment, that I was willing to beg for scraps of whatever I could sink my claws into. She doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

James and Lily looked forlorn as the latter placed her hand on Regulus’ shoulder consolingly. 

“It didn’t hurt to have the walking definition of unconditional love and the smartest, most intuitive witch I know to notice any discontent on my part.” He admitted shyly, earning him a smack of a kiss on the cheek from James.

“Gross. You guys are sickening.” Sirius muttered petulantly.

“So?” Lily interrupted what was close to becoming a squabble between the two Black brothers. “What are you guys going to do?”

Remus sported a determined expression as he looked to Sirius. “We’re going to make it right.”

Shelby stood by her word and brought your breakfast. She also brought you lunch, and then dinner. But by the following morning, she was tired of playing the role of house elf.

“Alright, are you going to tell me why you’re avoiding Lupin and Black?” She asked plainly, plopping herself down uninvited onto your bed.

“Wha-? I’m ... I’m not avoiding them.” You lied poorly.

“Please; don’t spit on my muffin and call it frosting, Y/N. You’re obviously avoiding them.”

“I...ew?”

She groaned and fell onto her back in defeat. “Please, for all that is holy, tell me why they’ve been following me around like kicked puppies hoping I’ll take them to their master?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your book that you held open but had never been reading. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re real upset.” You muttered.

“That’s it.” She spat and plucked your book out of your hands, throwing it over her shoulder unceremoniously. You cringed to think about how Remus would feel seeing a book treated in such a way.

“I was reading that!”

“Don’t lie to me again.” She said, levelling you with a ‘no nonsense’ look. “Spill.”

You sighed deeply, looking toward the window to try and find the words you’d spent the last 24 hours trying to formulate. She never rushed you for your answer, giving you all the time you needed. 

“I feel insignificant.” You admitted finally.

“And?”

You turned to face her, bemusement painting your features. “What do you mean, and?”

“And... have you spoken to them about it?”

You felt a little embarrassed to admit that no, you hadn’t.

“Why not?”

And that simple question seemed to set off all the emotions (mostly frustration) that simmered beneath your surface.

“Because Shelby. Because I don’t want to have to beg for love and affection. I don’t want to have to tell people how to love me; they should just already love me. I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding in someone else’s relationship. I don’t want to have to point out that I’m here and I’m hurting. It’s mortifying. I... I think I’m just done.”

Shelby nodded in understanding before she stood from your bed. “Then you need to finish this today. No more hiding in your room being angry by yourself, and no more letting them sniff around the castle like dejected little runts. Put all three of you out of your misery.” 

It was your turn to nod as you too stood from your bed, ready to face possibly one of the most heartbreaking days of your life.

But Shelby was right; it was time. 

The worst part was that Shelby had been telling the truth; Remus and Sirius did look like kicked puppies. 

The second you had entered the Great Hall you heard a crash of knees against benches and cutlery clashing as Sirius clumsily tried to vacate his seat in record time to make it over to you.

“Y/N!” He called, as if you could have missed the racket he made just prior. 

He looked gaunt – like he hadn’t eaten or slept enough (in the only less than 48 hours) since you’d seen him last. His eyes were red and a little swollen, like he’d been rubbing at them.

You immediately felt sick with guilt; if he really was struggling with things with his family, the last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. But Sirius was looking after himself, and Remus was looking after him too; someone needed to think about you. You had to look after yourself.

Remus didn’t look much better, approaching the two of you much more slowly, hardly making eye contact with you as if you’d lash out at any moment. You had to admit that it annoyed you a little bit.

“Hi Sirius.” You offered, voice grating over the sudden tightness. “Remus.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave Remus’ shoulders as he made an effort to make eye contact with you.

“Can we talk?” He asked timidly. 

You knew what was coming, what was happening, what you yourself had come here planning to do.

But it broke your heart nonetheless.

“Sure.” You whispered, and exited the Great Hall without waiting to see if they were following you. 

You walked into an empty classroom and leaned against one of the walls as Remus and Sirius closed the door behind them. They shared another look and stood opposite of you.

More secret conversations. You thought bitterly. And doesn’t this just paint a lovely picture; them versus you. 

“Y/N. We, uhm...we’ve been talking, and we realized that...that maybe we haven’t gone about this the right way.” Sirius started, looking at Remus continuously as he addressed you. 

We’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“We didn’t take into account the ways in which our relationship would have to change in order to make the three of us work” Remus added.

We didn’t realize how much you’d take away from us, you heard

“We feel like we’ve been unfair to you, and... we’re really sorry.” Sirius concluded, looking like his heart had been ripped out of his rib cage. You supposed that would make sense, considering that’s how you currently felt yourself.

It probably hurt all the same to them – they’d be losing the friendships the three of you had created too; the friendship you had with Remus, the friendship you had with Sirius, and the fun the three of you had all together. But you still loved them, and the last thing you wanted to do was to interfere in their relationship.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” You admitted finally. “It was just a mistake.”

Remus’ head cocked to the side like a confused puppy whilst Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed. “Well...I, I’m not sure-” Remus started but was cut off by Sirius.

“Wait, Y/N, what exactly do you think the mistake was?”

You looked between the two of them as you lifted your shoulder. “I... I guess including me?” You stated as a question.

Sirius actually sputtered as Remus stepped towards you, stopping himself seemingly before he made to grab you.

“No! No, Dove. That’s not a mistake!” He insisted.

“Are you kidding? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us – no, no. This...wow, okay. Can we start from the beginning, please? Why do you think this was a mistake?” Sirius managed to (barely) get out.

You looked to the ceiling, eyes stinging at the reality of having to voice your hurt. “Because” your voice came out embarrassingly high. “Because it-it felt...better when we were friends. I didn’t feel...in the way. And it felt easier. Just - I didn’t mean to come in between you, and I never...” you cut yourself off, quickly moving into hyperventilating territory. 

“But-”

“It’s not a mistake!” Sirius shouted, cutting Remus off. “This wasn’t a mistake! You weren’t a mistake. I... okay. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, that’s true. But I don’t consider that a mistake. Not you, never you.”

“It was a surprise; a happy accident.” Remus added hopefully shy.

You felt drunk...dizzy...beyond confused. Weren’t they breaking up with you? Weren’t you supposed to be breaking up with them!?

“I think it was easier when we were friends because we weren’t putting so much pressure on ourselves to get this right.” Sirius explained.

Remus nodded and continued. “Sirius used to get so jealous if I got to hang out with you without him if he was at practice – took us a while to figure out that it was because he wished he was the one hanging out with you. When we started dating, I guess Sirius and I figured we’d just make sure to always hangout with you together so that neither of us felt left out. But we never even thought about how that must’ve been making you feel, dove. I’m so sorry.” 

“Regulus read us our rights.” Sirius admitted abashedly. “He pointed out that the relationship between the three of us will only work if our relationships with each other are strong. And we didn’t make our individual relationships with you a priority – that was our mistake, Y/N. Not you.” 

“Our mistake was believing you would just ‘catch up’ to where we are – which is years in the making – and also expecting you to somehow do that on your own. It was selfish and thoughtless.” Remus stressed

The things they were saying made sense and spoke to your very soul, but you couldn’t shake off this lingering feeling of dread.

“I... I should have said something... about how I was feeling.”

Sirius sighed, but it was Remus who spoke. “I think all of us could have done a better job communicating, that’s true. But we should have been more considerate. We asked you to join us, dove; we should have made that easy for you to do.”

“To think how much grief we’ve caused ourselves, when we could have just solved this all with a conversation.” Sirius mumbled dejectedly. 

“We’re not too late, are we? To solve this?” Remus asked quietly. Sirius’ eyes looked like they were close to popping out of his skull as he stood and made for you, grabbing your hands pleadingly.

“Oh gods, Y/N. You... you were breaking up with us, weren’t you? You thought we were breaking up with you?” His voice sounded very close to a sob.

“Please...please dove I- I don’t know that we deserve it, but please give us a chance to make this right, to do this properly. Give us a chance to love you the way you deserve.” Remus begged, moving to stand in front of you with Sirius, though he controlled his urge to grab your hands. 

You looked between the two boys; the two boys who you’ve been basically in love with for so long – the two boys who have proclaimed to feel the same way about you - and wondered to yourself again:

Have we made a terrible mistake?

Remus’ golden eyes shimmered with compassion and warmth, and Sirius burned fiercely in devotion and promises.  

Had you made a mistake? Falling in love with them?

No.

Perhaps Remus was right. Perhaps this was a happy accident.

“Okay.” You whispered. Remus exhaled the breath he’d been holding while Sirius’ face morphed into a small, hopeful kind of smile – far shyer than you were used to seeing from the boy.

“Okay?” He asked, moving his hands up from your wrists to your shoulders.

“Yeah... I-I don’t want to lose you guys.” You admitted wetly, a tear betraying you as it fell down your cheek. Sirius was quick to catch it with his thumb.

“Never, dove. Not if I can help it.” Remus promised. 

You believed him.  

taglist: @cyripticchronicler @orphicmortala @hcqwxrtss123 @ssc7514 @misacc08 @ashie-babie @milkyasteroids, @maqqiekwon @daisiesformylove @littlenerdybee @allllium

[pretentious-blonde]

patched up

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you help remus clean up after the full moon, reminding him once again how much he is loved, even if he thinks he is underserving

warnings: cuts, wounds, physical pain

a/n: all i write is hurt/comfort, and I'm not even mad

Remus sat on the old leather couch, a book in his hand that just couldn’t seem to grasp his attention. His free fingers traced small circles on your legs, which you had ungracefully thrown over his own as you lounged together in the living room. It was still early, just coming up for noon, you both were aware of the time. Even if the knowledge was unspoken. 

It was the full moon tonight, and despite the routine that you both had become familiar with, the boy couldn’t shake the nerves that coiled and twisted inside of him. 

You pretended not to notice what he was doing, glancing at the door every couple of minutes, waiting for the inevitable knock. James and Sirius would arrive any moment now, take him away, far away for yet another transformation. You were used to it by now. 

One thing that was always constant was that they had always been there for him, he appreciated that, but he hated leaving you. Especially when you gave him that soft, reassuring smile. Like everything would be fine. Like everything was fine.

“Rem,” you spoke softly, catching those big, brown eyes. His body was tense beneath you. 

“I’m alright, dove,” he gave you a weak smile, his fingers stopping their patterns to give your calf a light squeeze. “Just… you know.”

And you did know. Painfully so.

You nodded, understanding him completely. You were about to speak more, but were interrupted by the shrill ring of the doorbell. He stiffened even more at the sound. Hand stilling.

He sighed and closed the book, setting it aside. His gaze moved to the hand on your leg, not wanting to move it, wanting to keep the inevitable away for just a second longer. 

“It’s time,” he tells you quietly, like he does every month. His voice carried a sadness that he couldn’t hide completely. 

You place your hand on top of his own, your smile gentle but knowing. “I’ll be right here. Waiting for you to get back, okay?”

He stood up, pulling you with him, tall body towering over your own. He let his hand linger on the small of your back as you both headed to the front door. When he opened it, James and Sirius stood waiting outside, both smiling softly as they knew what was to come. The car behind them was still running, headlights cutting through the fog, casting a warm glow behind them. 

“Hey, mate,” James begins, smiling up at Remus. “You ready?”

Sirius leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, his usual smirk missing from his face. “We’re ready when you are,” he said. His voice light in an attempt to ease your boyfriend’s nerves. “If you need a breather before we go, just say the word.”

Remus shook his head, he would rather just get this over and done with, no more stalling. You could feel the stress in his body increase as the hand on your waist held on a little tighter. 

Sirius, sensing the clear tension that settled heavily in the air, finally cracked a smile. “Don’t worry,” he waved his hand in front of him. “You’ll be back here with your girl before you know it.” He said, winking in your direction.

James also turns his attention to you, giving you a mock salute, “He is in safe hands, don’t you fret.”

“And we won’t allow him to get too grumpy when we return him,” Sirius added, side-eyeing the man standing next to you. Remus runs a hand over his face at their teasing.

You rolled your eyes and gave them a half-glare, happy that they were trying to keep things light. 

“I trust you both,” you say, tone teasing but nonetheless truthful. “Bring him back in one piece.”

James nods. “You have our word.”

Remus lets out a small, grateful smile before turning his attention back to you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, allowing his hand to linger on your cheek for a moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening, darling. I promise,” he tells you, his gaze was intense. The act of leaving you now was painful. 

You leaned forward and hugged him tightly, his own long arms wrapping around you immediately. Secure and firm, he never wanted to let go. 

“I know you will,” you whispered into his chest, voice muffled by his worn jumper. “I’ll be here.”

Remus reluctantly loosened his embrace, kissing your forehead gently as he allowed himself to linger. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured as he held your chin. Warm, tired eyes burrowing into your own. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say quickly. He already knew that but—god—did it feel good to hear you say it back. He turned towards the car behind him, giving you a small wave before climbing in. 

Remus settled into the back seat as the other two slid into the front. He watched you as the car sped away, trying to push down the knots his stomach was tying. Sirius leaned back, tossing him a lighthearted grin from the passenger seat.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius said, trying to help him relax. “It’s just another moon. We have done this hundreds of times now.”

"Another moon, another miserable night,” Remus grumbled, no longer having the will to fake a smile. You weren’t there anymore. 

James glanced back from the driver’s seat, a sympathetic look now in his eyes. “You’ll be alright, mate. Besides, from the way you’re moping, I’d say you’re just lovesick.”

“Definitely lovesick,” Sirius said, nodding his head in agreement.

Remus sighed, staring out the trees flying past the window. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am. I’m damn lucky to be.”

James and Sirius exchanged a quick, knowing look, but didn’t tease him further. Remus just wanted to get through this—so he could go back to the one person who made everything else worth it.

Remus tried his hardest to be silent when he entered, opening the door gently to lessen the loud creak, his movements were slow and heavy as he stepped inside. It was late—much later than he intended to be—every inch of his tired body screamed in protest at the slightest movement. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his ribcage, having to reach out and steady himself against the wall, closing the door behind him. 

It had been bad this time. Really bad. James and Sirius had confirmed it, as if the fresh wounds couldn’t tell him that already. Their concerned faces still clear in his memory. 

The cuts on his body were deep—deeper than usual—one stretching across his chest, another on his arm, and a particularly nasty one that covered the side of his face. He had no recollection of how he acquired them, but they offered a fresh reminder of what he was. What he could become. 

He trudged up the stairs, each step more painful than the last, eventually making his way to the bathroom. He avoided the mirror, the last thing he wanted to see was his reflection—the scars, the bandages, the tired eyes that always seemed more hollow after the events of a full moon. He quickly redressed the lacerations on his torso, delaying touching the one on his cheek. 

He didn’t want to see what it looked like, but he had no choice. He needed to change it. He would just have to do it fast. 

Glancing up quickly, he caught a brief glimpse of himself. He felt the air knocked out of his lungs. Immediately he looked away, biting down another wave of familiar self-loathing that flowed through him. 

He hated this—hated how he looked, how his body was always going to be a physical reminder of how cursed he was. How much of a monster he was. 

With shaky hands, he removed a bandage from its plastic casing, placing it on his face as swiftly as he could. He pulled out a loose set of pyjamas and quickly slipped them on his aching body, just wanting to crawl into bed and pretend the previous night never happened.

He opened the door to your shared bedroom and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of your sleeping figure. You were lying peacefully on your side of the bed, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your breathing drew him closer to you. 

He paused before he got in, just standing there for a moment, taking you in, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips for the first time in over twenty-four hours. He loved you. God, he loved you. The one thing in his life he would never get near his tribulation. The one thing that kept him going. 

Carefully, he slipped in next to you, taking extra care not to rouse you. The ache in his arms flared up as he pulled back the heavy duvet, but he forced himself to ignore it. After all, what was a little discomfort when he could be close to you?

He shuffled closer, wincing at the pain that shot through his muscles, but it appeared to melt into the background as he felt your warmth permeate his skin. 

For a moment, he was content just laying there next to you, watching you sleep. If you were awake you would probably call him a creep. He stifled a chuckle at the image that formed in his mind. 

His heart ached—not from the wounds or exhaustion he had sustained, but from the overwhelming combination of emotions he felt for you. He hoped you were sleeping well, lord knows he wouldn’t be. Not with the soreness that was coursing through his drained body, but his own well-being didn’t concern him right now. What mattered was that he was here, with you. 

With a soft sigh, he gently pulled your sleeping form closer to him, his arms trembling slightly with the strain. The throbbing in his chest flared up again, but he ignored it. Instead, he buried his face in your hair and let the steady sound of your breathing soothe him. He kissed the top of your head, whispering into the silent room. 

“I’m home, love,” he murmured, voice almost inaudible as sleep began to pull him under. “Promised I would be.”

The first thing you felt when you stirred was a familiar warmth, strong arms wrapped around you, and for a brief moment, your heart swelled with relief. He was back. He always came back to you. But every time he managed to crawl back home you couldn’t help but worry if it would be worse than the last time. You shifted slightly, turning in his embrace in order to get a better look at him—that’s when you noticed. 

The fresh bandages, hastily applied, peeked out from his long sleeve, another covering the side of his face. You ached for him at the sight of them. You pulled your arms from beneath the duvet, reaching out to touch the dressing. Your fingers hovered just above it, pausing mid-air as you stopped yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him more. You didn’t know what lay beneath them. 

You wriggled out of his hold, taking additional time and care so as to not wake the man sleeping soundly next to you. He needed the rest. You were certain he would be in pain as soon as he rose, and as much as the idea of staying in his arms sounded heavenly, you decided to make yourself useful. 

Padding quietly to the kitchen, odd socks on your feet, you grab two cups from the cupboard above your head. You had to go on your tiptoes to reach them. Usually, Remus would insist on getting them for you—he had once seen you clamber up onto the counter and it nearly gave him a heart attack—but he was preoccupied today. 

The kettle bubbled softly as you pulled out the jar of tea, along with the packet of biscuits—chocolate, of course, his preferred choice. You prepared it in the way he taught you, letting it brew for a good couple of minutes before removing the teabag, pouring in a healthy glug of milk. You returned to the bedroom, steaming mugs in hand and the packet of biscuits under your arm. 

The brunette began to stir at the soft crackle of plastic as you placed the treats on the bedside table, holding your own mug close to your chest as you sat on the floor beside the bed. You watched his eyes as they fluttered open. 

“Hey,” you whispered, tilting your head to the side to look at him horizontally. “How are you feeling?”

He winced as he shifted over, his body still unbearably sore. His tired eyes met yours, and despite everything, he managed to give you a faint smile. It was hard not to when you looked at him like that. 

“I’ve been better,” he replied, his voice husky with sleep. 

You shook your head at his attempts to downplay his clear discomfort, trying to mask the worry in your eyes that was surely present. 

“I made you tea,” you gesture to the cup next to you, pale wisps dancing around the top of it. He liked it hot, straight from the kettle. It amazed you how he could handle drinking it so fast. “And your favourite.”

“I’m a lucky man,” he said as he sat up, voice slightly strained as he finished his sentence. He reached out and dipped the biscuit in his mug, making a sound of relief as he popped it into his mouth, allowing the rich flavour to melt over his tongue. 

He took a sip of his tea, sleeve rolling up slightly as he leant over, bandage visible. You didn’t want to mention how poorly they had been applied, you didn’t want to remind him. But it had to be done, for his sake. 

“Rem,” you began gently, not wanting to upset him. “You need to change those.”

Immediately, he stiffened, his body pausing mid-sip. He loathed this part—being looked after and the vulnerability that came with it. 

“Do I?” He muttered, voice lacking the spark it had when he woke up, clearly embarrassed at your statement. 

You nodded solemnly, cringing at the discomfort in his eyes. “It might get infected,” you tell him. “You’re tired. Let me help you, please?”

He hesitated for a moment, an internal battle occurring in his head, before giving you one of his kind smiles. “Alright,” he responded, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. “Can I finish my tea first?”

You giggled, worry easing just a little. “Of course,” you say, nodding your head. “We’ll do it after.”

He placed his soon-empty cup on the side next to him, sighing heavily as he nodded to you. “Alright, love,” he said reluctantly. “I’m ready.”

You stand up slowly, reaching out to take his hesitant hand, leading him towards the bathroom. He traced your knuckles with his thumb as you both continued down the hallway. When you opened the door, he immediately hopped up on the counter silently. Ignoring the mirror and instead choosing to look down at his lap.

The first aid kit was under the sink, a pack that you always kept fully stocked. You quickly grabbed it before returning to your place in front of him, standing in between his spread legs. Your heart felt heavy at how exhausted he looked. How broken. But you refused to let him see that. He didn’t need to worry about you being worried about him. He had enough to deal with as it is. 

“Can I take your jumper off?” You ask him softly, afraid of raising your voice. You needed to take care of him, and from the looks of it, he wanted to be as far away from this situation as possible. 

His eyes left his lap and locked with yours. For a second, he looked as though he might say something, but instead, he just nodded. Words seemingly too hard to form right now. 

You tried to keep your hands steady as you reached out, gently pulling the fabric over his head, keeping the material as far away from his body as you removed it. You folded up the material and placed it to the side, allowing him to get more comfortable with his bare skin showing before you gave him your attention again. But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw. 

Bandages—there were so many of them, scattered haphazardly across his torso and arms. Each one was a significant reminder of what he had been through the previous night. You swallowed hard, putting on a brave face as you knew he was watching your every movement. 

“You ready?” You asked, needing verbal confirmation as you knew this was going to hurt. Not just him, but yourself as well. 

His lips twitched up into a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he quipped, trying to take the edge off, but the pain was clear in his low voice. 

You peeled off the dressings, not earning a large reaction from the boy sitting in front of you. Most of them had become unstuck as he slept, making your job easier. You reached for the cloth and antiseptic, deciding to start with the easier gashes first. Your touch was diligent and gentle as you cleaned him, dabbing carefully at the blood and dirt that clung to his skin. 

He must have been shattered last night to skip this. That fact made you even more determined to fix this. To fix him. You couldn’t offer much, but you would do whatever you thought would help. Every few minutes, you’d glance up, wordlessly checking on him. Waiting for the swift bob of his head as he urges you to keep going. 

“Am I hurting you?” You knew the answer already, but you needed to know how much. 

“Only a little,” he lied, a faint smirk appearing on his face. “I’ve been though worse, dove.”

You roll your eyes at his ill attempt of humour, but at least he was able to crack a joke. That was a good sign. 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you murmered as you pressed down on a particularly nasty cut, earning a small hiss from him. You hurried up when you heard the noise, not wanting to be the one behind his torture. 

Finally, you turned your attention to the injury on his face, the angry red line that ran from his collarbone all the way up to his cheek. The sight of it yanked at your heartstrings and you knew you failed to mask your reaction, his body stiffened. Eyes darting away from yours as he attempted to look away. You caught his chin before he could withdraw into himself, forcing him to look at you. 

Big, doe eyes filled with guilt, shame even, and it devastated you. He cleared his throat with a sharp cough, his voice gravely. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” he muttered, gaze dropping again despite the grip on his chin. “You shouldn’t—have to take care of me like this.”

You removed your hold on him, allowing both of your hands to continue working, dabbing gently as his mouth curled at the stinging sensation. “Remus,” you whispered, your voice filled with compassion. “I want to take care of you. I love taking care of you.”

He shook his head slightly, the conversation paining him more than your actions. “You’re too good to me,” he tells you, his voice monotone as if he was just speaking a fact. “Look at me, darling. I’m—I’m a mess.”

You smiled at the angelic boy in front of you and placed a kiss on his cheekbone, just above the cut. He really couldn’t see what you saw. What his friends saw in him. How he treated you all. He was the most selfless person you had ever met, going above and beyond for each and every person he cared for. 

It wasn’t a skill that could be taught. It was innate. It was Remus. Always had been. 

“You’re not a mess,” you say firmly. “You are mine. I love you—every scar, every mark, every part of you.”

You saw his throat bob as he swallowed, his eyes slightly glassy as he stared at you. He always struggled to allow people to give him affection, not believing he deserved it. He didn’t know where to put all the love you gave him. He always felt unworthy of it. 

But in that moment, just the two of you in the cramped bathroom, illuminated by the small ceiling bulb. It felt right. Your fingers brushing over his scars, some fresher, some older, he thought maybe…just maybe. It would all be alright. 

You finish the last dressing, smoothing it over his skin with the same tenderness you treated all the others. “All done,” you tell him, feeling proud of your handiwork. 

Remus lets out a relieved chuckle at your pride. “I’d say you’ve missed your calling, love. Should’ve been a nurse.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh, feeling the tension leave the room. “Maybe I’ll change careers.”

“I take it back,” he says quickly, eyes softening with affection. “I want you all to myself. I’m selfish.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I have the whole of today off,” you say, throwing the used bandages and their wrappers into the bin by the door. “We can do whatever you want.”

He raised an eyebrow, your words tempting him. “Anything?”

“Yep, anything at all,” you nod at him. “Within your...physical capabilities,” you quickly add. There is no way that would be happening in his condition. 

“Well you’re no fun,” Remus frowns playfully, mischief still swimming in his eyes. “But I’m sure I can come up with something riveting for the both of us.”

You put your hands on your hips, assuming a determined stance. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in mind.”

He hums, pleased with your statement, lowering himself down from the counter and pulling his jumper back on. Grimacing as it brushes his skin. He motions for you to follow him into the living room, watching as he winces as he sits down on the couch, his face briefly tightening in pain. But then, true to form, he opens his wide arms and looks at you expectantly. “Come on then.”

You go to take a step forward but hesitate. You would love nothing more than to drape yourself over him, but the sight of his bandages stops you. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

A look of warmth crossed his face, shaking his head with a tender smile. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t let me hold you, darling. Come on.”

You can’t help but melt at his kind words, you gently ease yourself onto the couch, mindful of his injuries and not putting your full weight on him. His arms encase you instantly, pulling you impossibly closer despite the clear discomfort it caused him. 

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” You scold him, your cheek resting on his chest, mindful of the dressing on the opposite side. 

“Stubborn? No.” He quips, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Hopelessly in love? Maybe.”

You giggle, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you in a steady rhythm. “A bit of both, I think.”

It’s his turn now to chuckle, his tired bones relaxing further into the soft cushions. “You might be right.”

You both just lie there in a comfortable silence, the sound of the world beginning to wake up outside only added to the ambience. He was at peace with you In his embrace, glancing down at you as you gazed at him softly. Fingers tracing gentle circles on an unharmed piece of his chest. 

“So…” you begin, continuing your motions. “Any grand ideas for today?”

He shakes his head, stopping to meet your eyes, lips curling into a lazy smile. “Honestly? Just this. Just you.” His voice is playful but his words have never been more true. “Don’t need anything else.”

“Smooth,” you say sarcastically, suppressing a smirk of your own. 

“I’m serious, love,” he chuckles. “I can’t think of a better way to spend today.”

Your heart soared at his words, you carefully shifted to cup his face. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pushes himself further into your palm, eyes closing for the briefest of moments, his hand coming up to cover your own. “Have I mentioned that you’re too good for me?” He tries to make it sound like a joke, but the familiar self-doubt can still be heard in his voice. 

“Unfortunately, far too much,” you playfully glare. “You stubborn man.”

He reopens his eyes, now filled with an overwhelming amount of affection. It almost takes your breath away. 

“Then I’m sure you’ve heard me say how lucky I am as well,” he teases, his expression never faltering. 

“I’m the lucky one,” you grin cheekily, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “My boyfriend makes an excellent cup of tea.”

“Is that all I’m here for?” He asks in mock offence, pulling you flush against him, despite the twinge of pain it caused. “Keeping me around for my tea-making skills?”

“Exactly,” you nestle your head against him. 

At that moment, everything felt right to him. Just the two of you, safe, together. Nothing else mattered to him apart from the girl in his arms. He knows the pain will linger—the scars, the transformations, all of it. But with you—his anchor—it feels just about bearable. And for the first time in a long time. He allows himself to feel hope.

[webbluvrsugar]

was working as a waitress and thought: Rafe Cameron would be a shameless, dirty client.

PART ONE — PART TWO.

You started your shift a couple hours ago, it’s been nice, not too busy, no rude costumers, the evening is quiet, you’re just cleaning around the counter and hey — you’ve even made a few tips, and if that means that you’ll be doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the night while pretending you’re working and get some extra cash, you’ll keep cleaning that counter for the fourth time today.

Everything’s going the way it should, except when a large group of boys barge in the restaurant, you can hear a few mutters, “Nah man, you’re not hearing me this shit’s like the best place in town.” and by mutters, it’s more like a loud deep voice breaking the silence of the place.

You already know that they’re gonna be trouble, but your coworker already escaped to the kitchen and you’re forced to drop the easy task and go and greet them with a smile.

One of them stands tall, you notice his clothing, the expensive watches, the gold chain, the polo with a little ‘R.C’ engraved — these guys are loaded. He checks you out too, bluntly staring at your body through your clothes before his eyes go back to yours.

“Uhh.. table for seven?” He questions, you nod.

“Right this way.” You respond, walking them to the a nice isolated corner with a fresh made table, if he’s going to check you out, you should at least make some big, fat cash from the service.

He’s laughing around with his friends, nudging them one on his shoulder when they talk about how hot the waitress is, loud boyish laughs like they’re teenagers, you’re sure they’re at least twenty.

They sit down, Rafe sits at the edge of the table, closer to you when you drop the menus on the table, the short little skirt flowing and only showing the shorts underneath, Rafe wishes you weren’t wearing any, but it’s not like he can control that.

You come to take their orders, he’s already man spreading on the chair, a toothy grin on his face as he adjusts his polo, then his shorts — on purpose —, you look down almost immediately to the motion, swallowing after a glimpse of his crotch before you look up and finally focus on your job, which at this point, you’re not sure what it is, Rafe chuckles lowly, he waits for his friends to order before he does.

“So, f’me I’d like a coke…” you start to take notes, he interrupts right away. “No, no, wait actually, a cider.” You scratch the notepad and start to take note of that too, he interrupts, again. “Wait, make it a beer, large.”

His friends laugh at his childish behaviour, you sigh, give him a glance before you take note of that.

“And to eat?” You ask, leaning in slightly.

“A blooming onion annnd….uhhh…” he stalls, just for the sake of it, his eyes go up and down at you again before he looks back at the menu, taps on the food he wants before speaking. “A truffled burger.”

He says, you don’t take notes, you only raise a brow at him.

“Are you sure?”

His friends run quiet at the slight defiance you give away, Rafe’s smile slightly fades, but he’s impressed, so he scoffs.

“Yeah babe, ‘m sure.” He adjusts his watch, making sure you can see the expensive diamonds on it, as if asking subtly for some respect.

You finally take note of what he asked for, a genuine smirk on your face playing now, you grab the menus, get ready to leave.

“Thanks sweetheart..” he says as he watches you leave, his friends erupt in laughter, you feel like you’re getting mocked, but why is it so damn hot?

It takes a while for their orders to come, but you make sure Rafe’s last, he notices that, he can see the orders coming and his is just tossed on the back, his jaw clenches, but as soon as he sees you coming in with his order, a soft little smile on your face as you’re pleased with the look on his, it’s almost… cute, so he doesn’t complain, and doesn’t even mention that his burger is a little cold.

You come to clean their table when their finished, taking the multiple drinks and putting it on the balcony, you can definitely feel his eyes hovering over you every now and then, but this time you don’t mind it, especially not when you’re bringing him the bill and lean down to hand him it, boobs almost spilling out your top just for him to see, and he bites into it, scoffing lowly.

“Card or cash?” You ask.

“Card.” He responds, simply, he likes the attitude you put on, it’s nice and refreshing.

You bring him the machine, he pays, you expect nothing of it after they leave, but then when you walk to the table to make sure it’s all clean, you notice a large stack of cash, 300 hundred bucks and a message that says.

‘You got a nice little piece of ass, call me.’

It’s gross.

Disgusting.

But why are you dialling his number after work?

[skeltnwrites]

Summary: You are there for Steve when he has to face his fear of needles. | 1.1k

TW: needles, medical anxiety, panic attacks, bf steve

A/N: this is based on true events 🥲 also you cannot convince me he doesn't have anxiety about this after rewatching that scene where he is literally stabbed in the neck with a needle

This is the first time Steve’s ever let you drive his car. Not because he doesn’t trust you with it but because he’s happy to be your chauffeur for as long as you let him. He’s always one to refuse when you offer, to grab the keys before you even think about it. He’s a gentleman at heart, even if part of him just likes to drive. But today is different. 

Steve’s practically buzzing in the passenger seat, snapping his foot against the floor mat like a rubberband and tapping his fingers where they are crossed over his arm. And he’s silent, which is weird because he’s always been the type of nervous to not be able to shut up. 

You wrap a hand around his knee, thumb caressing denim. He doesn’t acknowledge it like he normally would, gaze trained on the windshield. His eyes are glazed over like he’s somewhere else entirely. You have to call his name twice before he hums. 

“Wanna get ice cream after?” 

You barely catch his nod.

You’re grasping for anything to get him out of his head but he refuses to talk to you regardless of topic. He’s been more obliging during arguments. 

It’s not surprising that he’s anxious today, you expected it. He’s always been hesitant about doctors and only goes if he absolutely has to. But lately, this hesitation has transformed more into refusal, regardless of reason. This appointment specifically, a checkup and routine bloodwork, has been an ongoing battle with Steve for months. After his dad had a health scare, it was recommended Steve be seen to rule out anything preemptively. You’d given Steve every opportunity to schedule it himself like he claimed he would, but weeks turned into months of procrastination so you eventually phoned the doctor's office. 

Steve stalls in the parking lot. You’d turned the car off nearly ten minutes ago but he’s had to fix his hair twice, retie his shoes, and he even pretended to search for something in the glove box. You’ve been patient, but with only two minutes left until his appointment, you circle around to his side, gently guiding him out of the car. Before he can protest or claim he forgot something, you quickly lock the door behind him.

“Name?” The middle-aged woman at the front desk asks. 

“Steve,” his voice shakes so he clears his throat.  

She pops the wad of gum she was blowing, bemused at your boyfriend. “Steve…?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You swipe a hand across his back, finishing, “Harrington. Steven Harrington.” 

She turns to her computer and begins typing lazily. 

“Oh,” he nods. 

She hands him a clipboard and pen, “Fill this out.”

You lean over the arm of his chair as he writes. His hands tremble around the pen and he stops to scribble out where he wrote his birthday incorrectly. You offer to do it for him but he declines. 

“Steven?” A nurse calls from the other side of the room where she’s propped a door open with her foot. You’re thankful for the short wait so Steve didn’t torture himself for long in the lobby. 

Steve doesn’t move so you squeeze the hand you’re holding, “Ready?”

He neglects to answer you but stands. You release his hand, collecting the clipboard and your things. Steve turns around, frowning and wide-eyed. “Are you coming?” 

“Yeah, baby. Do you want me to?”

He nods as you pass him his papers.

The nurse guides you down the hall, obtaining Steve’s height and weight before reaching a small room smelling of antiseptics. She takes his blood pressure, listens to his heartbeat, and jots down notes on the clipboard throughout. Steve’s breathing shallowly and staring at the floor as she works, focused on holding it together. 

When she leaves to grab the phlebotomist, Steve lets out a staggered exhale and whispers, “I really hate this.” His eyes join yours for the first time that morning, all warm and honeyed. 

You climb onto the paper sheet beside him, sealing his palm between both of yours. “I know, babe. You’re doing so good. Almost done.” 

He cranes over until his forehead meets your neck, eyelashes tickling your skin. You lean into him, planting a kiss on the nearest strip of skin. 

There’s a knock before the door swings open. A new face in the same scrubs. This one is all smiles, however, and chatting up a storm before she even sets her things down. 

Steve sprawls up slowly, eyeing the woman’s caddy as she rambles. 

She familiarizes herself with his chart before getting to work– washing her hands, ripping open the needle packaging, brushing a disinfectant wipe across his skin. It's all happening so fast. Steve’s breath picks up and his eyes dart away to the bland wall beside him. The nurse notices but doesn’t address his fear. She instead tries to distract him, asking him about how you guys met. 

A few words will find his tongue before he’s cut off by a series of gasps. He’s trying so hard to speak but his thoughts keep spilling out in a scrambled mess and that terrifies him even more. It terrifies you too– you’ve never seen him so scared. 

Steve gets a glimpse of the long needle near his arm and flinches away from her fingers. You’re pressing his face into the slope of your neck with your free hand because he keeps trying to watch what she’s doing.

“I need you to stay still, okay, hun? I’ll be so quick, I promise,” the nurse encourages. 

But as soon as her grip on his arm tightens, locking it against the table, he’s losing it. Fat tears are dribbling down his red cheeks and falling onto his lap where you’re clutching his hand. His chest convulses with shallow, uneven breaths, his muscles tensing under the strain of trying to keep his arm still. The needle slides in, and for a moment, his whole body stiffens, but she successfully finds the vein with a single poke and starts draining the blood into a vial.

Gradually, his breath starts to even out as he realizes the worst is behind him. Your fingers weave through his hairline and soothing words are whispered into his skin. A few final hiccups escape into your tear-stained collar.

“All done,” she’s patching him up with a cotton pad and tape and even you’re surprised at how quick it was. 

Steve tilts in your embrace to see the damage, unleashing a shuddered sigh. The nurse smiles at him and he offers a wobbly one back. 

Over a bowl of his favorite ice cream, he hesitantly opens up about his fear, recounting his traumatic experience with a Russian doctor. His words are thick with the weight of the painful memory and anxiety lingers through the tremble in his voice. No matter how many questions you have or how much you wish you could take away the experience, you know the best thing you can do is listen and praise him for his bravery.

[endereies]

JERSEY - MS

No Nut November - Day 15

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ You show up at Matt's hockey game wearing his jersey.

Hockey ran through Matt’s life, no one ever tried to take that away from him. Starting in high school only gave him the push needed to be a professional. Somewhere in between all that chaos, he met you. You weren’t a skater by any means. Matt would sometimes spend his extra practise time, teaching the baby deer how not to stumble.

However, during the final playoffs, the tension in Matt’s body was evident and had been for weeks. When he was tensed, he grew quiet, and the extra practice wasn’t giving him any confidence either. After a few times of being ignored over text, you learnt to steer clear. Causing issues now would only affect how he played, and you knew how important this was to him.

The car ride there was deafening in silence. You willed Matt to drive, hoping that the concentration on the road would help him in anyway. It didn’t. The road rage was intense as he yelled at cyclists and slow drivers.

The placement of your hand attempted to shift to his thigh, in hopes of calming him down. Yet, when he flinched, your hand drew back to your lap, playing with the tassels of your sweats.

One thing you hoped would help was your presence. On average, you never had time to travel the long distance to his games and stay to support as much as you wanted. You hated not being able to show just how much he meant to you at every game, but it was something you both knew early on into the relationship.

Arriving at the stadium was just as quiet, until the door slammed shut. You followed suit, a little quieter than him and met him around the driver’s side of the car.

“You got everything, baby?” you peeked your head around the door while he threw his bag on his shoulder.

“Yeah, s’all here.” He bristled at your words, not holding much eye contact.

You leant onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek “You got this, Matt. You always do.” It was obvious that he needed those words to simmer his mind, but it was still going at a thousand miles per hour.

“Thanks baby.” He relaxed his tone and gave you another kiss before walking off to the entrance, the last he thought he’d see of you that day.

Pretending to move the car was easy enough, you just couldn’t be seen if you wanted this to work. Once inside, you found his brothers standing by the food stalls, grabbing their food before turning in your direction.

“y/n! you made it!” Nick placed the drinks on the counter and hugged you tight, swaying your body. Chris, however, had all the food balanced so you agreed on a proper introduction later.

“Of course I did, I’ve had this day booked off for weeks now.”

“Good thing, Chris didn’t forget the main event then huh.” Your eyes shined when Nick spoke. You had this idea planned with the brothers that you would appear at his final show wearing his jersey. They managed to ‘misplace’ one of them and bring it with them to the show. “You guys are the best”

“It’s at our seats with Justin and mom, c’mon, better go before Matt somehow sees you.”

The seats were unlike any you were used to, front row in the VIP stands. Any other circumstances and you were among the crowd. You gawked at the luxury of the seats before sitting next to the rest of Matt’s family.

That’s where the jersey was showed to you. It was obvious it was Matt’s with the sizing of it, different to yours. The black and yellow made your features pop in the best way and you were hoping the plan would go well. You slipped it on over your shoulders, embracing the immediate smell of Matt as it hit you.

The players all stormed onto the ice, lights flashing inn the crowd as they circled the rink. Matt wasn’t himself; anyone could see just how stiff his body was compared to his teammates. Until he laid eyes on the VIP stands. He was glancing to originally see his family cheer him on, but when he saw you, that was forgotten.

He ignored the plan to greet the fans, breaking off course into your direction. If the bold yellow hadn’t made an appearance already, it had now. In mere seconds he was right in front of the stands, the wall blocking him from you. Once he cleared the wall, you both met halfway in a tight embrace, his stick in abandon on the floor. You looked down to see it wrapped in your favourite colour.

“You came? Shit, I wasn’t aware you were coming.” Nick and Chris fist bumped each other behind you two as Matt only hugged you tighter. His helmet was quickly discarded, getting his head nuzzled into your neck.

“Is this my jersey babe, the one Chris said was ‘at my practice rink’”

“Maybe, I’ve had this whole thing planned for about a month. You’ve been so stressed with hockey lately; I thought this would help.” He shut you up instantly with a harsh kiss to your lips, his grin evident throughout.

“Fuck, no I actually needed this. A lot. I was mostly pissed off that you couldn’t make it, I wanted you here so badly, babe.” His words were music to your ears, his posture deflating in your arms.

“You better get your ass back on that rink and win, alright.”

“Anything for you. I’ll be back with a trophy.”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @zariyamitchell-blog @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @slutf4rmatt @flouvela @lovesturni0l0s @2prcntmilkluvr @ribread03 @dirtykneesz

© ENDEREIES 2024

[gumims]

is it a ten now? | gojo x reader.

snow crunched softly under your boots as you walked through the quiet streets, your gloved hand securely held in gojo’s. his fingers tightened around yours every few moments, as if to remind you that he was there. the city was alive with christmas decorations—twinkling lights, wreaths on every door, and shop windows full of warm, glowing displays. despite the bustle of the holiday season, being with gojo made it feel like the two of you existed in your own little snow globe.

“so,” he began, swinging your joined hands between you. “on a scale of one to ten, how much do you love christmas with me?”

you tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “hmm… probably like a six?”

he gasped, placing his free hand dramatically over his chest. “a six? a six? you wound me, truly.”

“what did you expect?” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “you keep trying to eat my snacks and ruin all the surprises. six is generous.”

he stopped walking, tugging you closer until you were standing chest-to-chest in the middle of the snowy sidewalk. he bent slightly, so his face was level with yours, his ridiculously bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “first of all, i only ate one of your cookies, and it was a quality check for your benefit. second, i���m the best surprise of all.”

you rolled your eyes. “modest as always, satoru.”

“you love it,” he said, grinning as he leaned closer.

you opened your mouth to retort, but he suddenly straightened and pointed ahead with an excited gasp. “look! a christmas market!”

before you could respond, he was pulling you along, practically skipping as he dragged you toward the row of small, wooden stalls glowing with warm light.

“you act like you’ve never seen one before,” you teased, laughing as he darted from booth to booth.

“it’s different when you’re with me,” he said over his shoulder, his enthusiasm contagious. “come on, i saw hot chocolate over there!”

you let him lead you to a stall where a friendly vendor handed you both steaming cups of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and candy canes. gojo insisted on feeding you a bite of the whipped cream, laughing when it ended up on your nose.

“you’re the messiest eater i’ve ever met,” you said, wiping your face with a napkin.

“and yet, you still keep me around,” he replied, winking as he took a sip of his own drink.

after exploring the market, gojo spotted a small photo booth tucked between two stalls. “oh, we have to take a picture,” he said, already pulling you toward it.

you squeezed into the tiny booth, laughing at how his long legs barely fit. as the countdown began, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your cheek, leaving you flustered in the first photo. in the next, he made a goofy face, pulling you into his antics until you were both laughing so hard that the final photo was just the two of you mid-giggle.

when the strip of photos printed, he held it up, grinning. “see? proof that you’re having the best christmas ever with me.”

you snatched the photos from him, tucking them into your pocket. “maybe it’s an eight now,” you admitted softly.

he smirked. “i’ll get it to a ten before the night’s over. just wait.”

as the two of you continued wandering through the snowy streets, his hand warm in yours and his laughter filling the air, you couldn’t help but think that he already had.

a/n: hope evb had a great christmas<3

[wonuwonder]

toast rule — jeon wonwoo (m)

content: wonwoo smut, fem reader x wonwoo, semi-public sex (bathroom), unprotected sex (pls wrap it), non relationship, anything else lmk!! 1.7k words

an: minors dni. not proof read! kinda rushed it so will be correcting mistakes later, lowercase intended. english is not my first language.

“you know there’s a saying, that if you avoid eye contact during a toast you’ll have bad sex for seven years” you say jokingly, you had gone out to some fancy restaurant for Soonyoung’s birthday, your best friend. some of your friends were mutual, and they were here as well as his own friends, which you knew a couple of them.

one of his friends, whom you’d always had seem to have some sort of tension with, Wonwoo; stares directly at you from across the table, smirks and, leans closer, extending his glass of wine to the middle of the table, and says;

“guess I better do it right” he locks his eyes with yours, and toasts your glasses together while the others do the same, you both stare directly at each other while taking a sip, and when you finish, he adds “cheers” his gaze going from your eyes to your red lips, and so on.

for the rest of the night, you become more aware of his presence, exchanging glances while pretending to pay attention to the conversation going on at the table. you catch him staring at you a couple of times, and he catches you doing the same, smirking everytime he does.

after a while, you feel something slightly brushing your leg, you quickly dismiss it, but then you feel it again, and again, shifting in your seat, you look under the table while trying not to move around so much, and you notice it wasn’t something, but someone doing it. you look up, and find him again, smirking at you, biting his lower lip as if trying to hold in his laugh, you glare back at him, and then look around the table to see if anyone had noticed you two bickering, but as you both were the last on each row at the table, no one was really paying attention.

“i’ll be back in a sec” you say to Seokmin, who was sitting next to you, all flustered, you glare at him again and get up from the table, heading towards the bathroom.

you look at yourself in the mirror and fix your hair, hell, you looked hot, wearing a little black dress that hug your curves perfectly, with just the perfect amount of cleavage, you’re about to put your red lipstick on when you see Wonwoo, entering the bathroom, quickly finding your gaze in the mirror.

“hey, what are you doing here?“ you ask as he gets to you, turning around, he’s standing in front of you —towering over you.

“looking for you, i got bored at the table” he gets closer, and brushes a strand of hair out of your face and rests his hand on your jaw, he leans towards your now exposed ear and says “wasn’t fun anymore if you weren’t there to look at” he continues, lifting your chin up, you can’t help but stare at his lips and his piercing onyx like eyes, as he does the same to you

“you weren’t so bad to look at yourself either” you say back playfully, intertwining your arms around his neck.

he grabs you by the hips and tugs you against him, making you whimper under his touch, already turned on by the sudden interaction, he leans closer, pushing you against the counter, while pressing his hips against yours, he brushes the hair out of your neck, but before kissing you he asks “may i?”, you nod, giving him the confirmation that you were as needy as he was, and honestly, you’d been wanting this since the night started.

he kisses your neck sofly, leaving a trail of kisses from the back of your ear, all the way to your clavicle.

“wonwoo…” you say lowering your voice, and he stops to look at you again, you heard people walking towards the bathroom, “anyone could walk in here any moment” he doesn’t think twice as he’s already pulling you towards the last stall in the bathroom, locking the door behind him just in time as people come inside the bathroom.

he stares back at your frame, all pressed up in that tiny little black dress you had decided to wear for tonight, that made your legs look endless, and hugged every inch of your body tight, which had been driving him crazy the minute he saw you walk into the restaurant.

“fuck it” he groans under his breath, and grabs your face kissing you hungrily, pressing you against the tiny wall, the kiss getting hotter by the second, he lowers his hands to your waist gripping you even tighter against him, you huff out a moan in response, and he quickly covers your mouth with his hand, reminding you you weren’t alone, your eyes go wide, and he grins at you, before he continues kissing you, your hands roaming all over his toned body.

his shoulders looked so wide in that white shirt that had been hugging his muscles too tight, distracting you all night. your fingers quickly start to unbotton it.

“can’t wait huh princess?” he says pulling back from attacking your neck with kisses, —that were definitely going to leave marks—

“wonwoo please touch me” you say, voice all breathy from the heat, he wastes no time doing so and pushes your dress up to your waist, revealing the tiny red lace thong you had wore tonight, he groans when he sees it, putting it to the side for easy access, his fingers dipping in your arousal, spreading all over your pussy, massaging your clit, making you gasp, one of your hands leaving his neck to cover your mouth, just in time for when he adds one finger.

“you like that baby?” he says to your ear and all you can do is nod, overwhelmed by all the pleasure, he adds another one and curls then inside of you while continuing to play with your clit with his thumb, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

“fuck won-“ you manage to say, he looks at you with his darkened eyes.

your hands reach for his pants, and you unbuckle his belt almost desperately, his erection pressing hard against the fabric, you start stroking his bulge from outside his boxers, his cock painfully hard by now and he hitches a breath the moment you do.

“i need you, right now” you demand and his hand leaves your pussy, shutting your mouth with his fingers, making you taste yourself and you take his fingers gracefully, coating them with your tounge.

“i need you to keep quiet baby” he whispers as he gets his boxers down his legs along with his pants, his throbbing cock sprinting against his lower abdomen, and fuck it was huge.

you reach for it almost instantly, stroking him delightfully, his head tipping back and biting his lower lip to keep quiet.

he stares back at your pleading eyes and you say “please fuck me won” your words coming out like music to his ears, he grabs one of your legs and hoists it up behind his waist, making space for him to fit between your legs, squeezing his forearm tightly to steady yourself, he lines up against your core, his cock already leaking with pre cum, and he sinks into you harshly, both of you looking down to where your bodies connect, your forehead falling against his shoulder biting your lips to keep shut. he slowly puls out and sinks back in, picking up the pace, he starts pounding on you, you both already a mess while trying to make as less noise as possible, his mouth finds yours again, kissing you passionately, you groan against his mouth as he finds your favorite spot, you can’t hold much longer.

“won… m’gonna” you start and he grips your hip tightly with his free hand, squeezing your thigh with the other.

“me too”, he thrusts into you one more time and you both come undone, you bite his shoulder trying not to scream, and he grabs your other leg, making you wrap yourself around his waist to sit on the toilet lid, straddling him, as he was still inside you, you both ride out your highs.

he rests his head on your chest and you play with his hair, resting your cheeck on top of his head, and you stay like that for a bit, as his cum drips out of your pussy. after he pulls out, he starts to clean you up, and you both dress yourselves as better as possible to look like nothing happened.

after you’re done, you try to figure out if there’s someone still in the bathroom, pressing your ear against the tiny door, wonwoo wasting no time in looking at the way your ass cheeks looked pressed in the fabric of your dress.

“you think someone heard us?” you say, while still trying to hear if there was someone else in the bathroom, he grips your ass tightly with one of his hands, making you turn around to look at him.

“probably…” he starts, “not that i care” he says and starts kissing you again, but you shut down the kiss before it starts getting heated again.

“won we need to go back, they’re probably wondering where the hell we went” you mutter out, he steals a kiss from you again, “i’ll go see if there’s anyone here and in the hallway, so you can escape first” you leave the stall trying to look as normal as possible, while fixing your dress and examine each stall, luckily for you, you were alone, but you open the door of the bathroom, and find minghao leaving the men’s bathroom.

“hey, y/n, you okay?” he asks.

“yes! just, um lady problems” you reply, and his eyes squint, not buying any of it obviously,

“… okay, see you at the table” he says back grinning at you, and when he turns to walk away, you go inside the bathroom to free wonwoo from the stall, “you can leave now, quickly” you say and he gets out, “when you get back to the table, say you were outside smoking or something, minghao was in the bathroom, so you can’t say that” you explain and he nods, “alright, alright” you walk towards the door together, but before opening it, he turns around and says, to your ear.

“next time we do this, i want to hear every little sound from you” he bites his lips and grabs the door handle.

“what makes you think there will be a next time?” you bite back.

“the way you loved my cock” he winks at you before leaving the bathroom, with the biggest smirk on his face.

an: notes comments or reblogs are appreciated, just wanna read what you think😭

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 21

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: angstttttty

A/N: 🤗🤗😮‍💨😇

The late morning sun cast long shadows on the sidewalk as you and Natasha wandered through the shopping district. The crisp autumn air smelled faintly of roasted nuts and coffee from nearby stalls, and you paused in front of a shop window, gesturing to a soft green dress displayed on a mannequin.

“That is so you,” you said with a laugh, glancing at Natasha.

She barely looked, her eyes skimming the display with vague disinterest. “Yeah, maybe,” she muttered, her tone distant.

Her lack of enthusiasm sent a ripple of unease through you, but you brushed it off, continuing down the street with her by your side. Yet, the silence between you began to gnaw at your nerves.

You bit your lip, hesitating before finally speaking. “Um, Nat” you started carefully, “can I talk to you about something?”

Natasha sighed lightly but nodded, her expression neutral. “Sure. What’s up?”

You hesitated, glancing at her out of the corner of your eye. “It’s about Bucky.”

That got her attention. Her brow quirked slightly, though her lips remained pressed in a thin line. “What about him?”

You sighed, your hands fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “He came home late the other night. Which, I mean, it’s fine—he’s allowed to have his space, obviously—but he didn’t tell me where he was. He said he was out for drinks with Sam, but I had lunch with Sam today, and he said he hasn’t seen Bucky since Sunday. I don’t know, Nat. Am I being ridiculous? Does that sound weird to you?”

Natasha stopped walking abruptly, turning to face you with a sharpness that took you off guard. “I don’t want to hear about this,” she said, her voice flat and unyielding.

You blinked, her sudden reaction throwing you completely. “What?”

Her jaw tightened as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re overthinking it. As always. You’re being dramatic about something that’s probably nothing.”

The words stung. Your chest tightened as you stared at her, confusion and hurt bubbling to the surface. “Wow, okay,” you said quietly, your voice wavering. “Where is this coming from?”

Natasha looked away, her gaze flicking to the street, her lips pressing into a hard line. “I just… I think I need some space,” she said finally, her voice tight.

The weight of her words hit you like a freight train. “From me?” you asked, barely able to push the words past the lump in your throat.

“Yes,” she said bluntly, her gaze avoiding yours. “From you.”

You took a step back, the world around you blurring slightly as the hurt settled deep in your chest. “Nat, I don’t understand. Why? Why are you saying this?”

Natasha exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Because I can’t do this anymore,” she snapped, her voice rising slightly. “I can’t understand why he’d fall in love with you and not me! You’re not some amazing ethereal person, where you get two amazing guys falling in love with you! ”

Her words hit like a slap, cutting deeper than you thought possible. “Nat,” you whispered, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s… fucking hurtful. Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“You asked,” she shot back, her tone defensive and raw. “Do you know how hard it is to stand on the sidelines for years, watching everyone else’s perfect little stories play out? Watching you and Bucky? Watching Steve?”

Her voice cracked slightly on his name, and your breath hitched. “Steve?”

Her laugh was humorless and sharp, her gaze finally snapping back to yours. “Yes, Steve. The guy who’s been in love with you forever. The guy who’s been pretending everything’s fine while you and Bucky play house.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. “I know,” you admitted quietly. “I know, Nat. And I’ve been trying so hard to handle it without making everything worse for him. What do you want me to do?”

Natasha threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know!” she said, her voice cracking. “But you and Bucky can’t just act like this doesn’t affect anyone else. You’re so wrapped up in each other, you don’t see what it’s doing to him—or to me.”

You took a shaky breath, anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface. “You wanted this!” you said, your voice rising. “You’ve been pushing me to admit my feelings for him for years. And now that I finally have, I’m not allowed to be happy? To talk to you about him?”

“You don’t get it,” she snapped, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. “You don’t get how hard it is to watch this unfold. I’m so in love with Steve, okay? And I’ve been in love with him for years, he’s my Bucky! And now I have to sit there and watch him pine over you, knowing I’m just… invisible.”

The raw honesty of her words left you momentarily stunned. “Natasha,” you said softly, your anger draining as guilt and heartbreak filled its place. “I didn’t know it was this bad. I’m so—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Don’t apologize. It won’t change anything.”

You reached out instinctively, but she took a step back. “Nat, please. You’re my best friend.”

“And I’ll always care about you,” she said, her voice soft but distant. “But I need time. I need to figure out how to deal with this without being around you and Bucky all the time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your vision blurring slightly. “Okay,” you said finally, your voice breaking. “If that’s what you need.”

Natasha’s face twisted with something you couldn’t quite name—regret, maybe—but she didn’t say another word. She just nodded, turned on her heel, and walked away, leaving you standing alone on the crowded sidewalk as the world continued to move around you.

You stood there for a long time, the sounds of the city fading into the background, as the weight of her absence pressed heavily on your chest.

The chill of the evening air nipped at your cheeks as you trudged home, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. Natasha’s words still echoed in your ears, sharp and biting, leaving an ache in your chest that felt unbearable. As you turned a corner, your eyes landed on a familiar figure walking toward you, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

Steve.

He noticed you immediately, his brows furrowing as he quickened his pace. “Woah, hey,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

You stopped in your tracks, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. “No, I’m not,” you said bluntly, your voice trembling.

Steve’s frown deepened, his blue eyes searching your face for answers. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, your gaze darting away. “Why weren’t you at the farmer’s market today?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Steve sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I needed some space.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head, the absurdity of it all crashing down on you.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his confusion evident.

You looked at him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s not funny. It’s just… apparently everyone needs space.” Your voice cracked as you continued. “I thought I was finally happy, Steve. I have Bucky, and for once, things felt right. But now I’m losing Nat, I’m losing Sam, and now you. Nothing feels right anymore!”

Steve’s jaw clenched, his expression pained.

“Are you avoiding me because of me and Bucky?” you pressed, your voice trembling.

He hesitated, his silence speaking volumes before he finally nodded. “Yeah.”

Your chest tightened, and you took a shaky breath. “How much space do you need?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“Of course, you don’t,” you said bitterly, the frustration bubbling over. “I thought you said you were okay with me and Bucky!”

“Well, I lied, okay?” Steve’s voice rose, uncharacteristically sharp. His hands clenched at his sides as he looked at you, his eyes blazing with frustration and something deeper. “How can I be okay when you shouldn’t be with him? I don’t care what Sam or the universe says—you should be with me!”

His words hit you like a freight train, leaving you stunned and speechless. The world around you seemed to tilt, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“Steve…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

But he wasn’t finished. “Do you know what it’s like? Watching you with him? Knowing that he’s the one who gets to make you happy? I’ve loved you for so long, and I tried—God, I tried—to bury it, to be the friend you needed. But I can’t do it anymore!”

Your heart felt like it was being ripped apart, the weight of his confession crashing down on you. And yet, before you could fully process his words, your own emotions spilled out like a flood.

“This is such a shit show,” you blurted, your voice breaking. “Natasha is in love with you, Steve!”

Steve’s eyes widened, his face paling. “What?”

“She’s in love with you!” you cried, your emotions finally boiling over. “And she’s been in love with you for years, and now she hates me because of all this! Because of you, because of Bucky, because of this mess that I never asked for!”

Steve took a step closer, his voice soft but firm. “Please don't cry..Why are you crying?”

“Because I never asked you to love me!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face now. “I never asked for any of this! And now it’s all falling on me—Natasha, you, Bucky, everyone. I hate this, Steve. I hate this!”

Steve reached out, his hand brushing your arm, but you pushed him away, the hurt and anger swirling in your chest like a storm. “I can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking as you turned and walked away, your tears blurring the path ahead of you.

“Wait!” Steve called after you, his voice desperate, but you didn’t stop.

You kept walking, your sobs echoing in the quiet streets, the weight of it all pressing down on you. The ache in your chest was unbearable, but you didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

The door slammed behind you with a force that rattled the frame, the sound reverberating through the apartment. Bucky, who was setting the table with dinner, froze mid-motion, his brow furrowing as he turned toward you.

“Whoa, hey,” he said, his voice calm but laced with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound raw and harsh even to your own ears. Tears streamed down your face, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop them. Your chest heaved with the weight of your emotions, the evening’s events crashing down on you all at once.

Bucky crossed the room in an instant, his hands reaching out to you. “Hey, hey, come here. What happened?” His voice was soft now, almost pleading as he tried to pull you into his arms.

But you stepped back, holding up a trembling hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you said, your voice cracking.

The hurt on his face was immediate and gut-wrenching. His hands dropped to his sides, his blue eyes clouding with worry. “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You wiped at your face furiously, your breath hitching as you tried to form the words. “I know you didn’t have drinks with Sam the other night, Bucky.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

“Why are you lying to me?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You said you’d never lie to me! Where were you?”

Bucky’s expression darkened, his shoulders tensing as he ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t lying,” he said carefully, his tone low. “It’s just—complicated.”

You let out another humorless laugh, the bitterness sharp in your throat. “Complicated? That’s your answer? God, Bucky, we’ve only just started, and you’re already hiding things from me. What am I supposed to think?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, his eyes pleading. “Sweetheart, listen to me. There’s nothing going on. I swear to you, there’s no one else. There’s nothing else.”

“Then where were you?” you demanded again, your voice trembling with both anger and hurt. “You know how hard this is for me. I trust you, Bucky, I do. But you said you’d never lie to me. So why—why did you?”

Bucky hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides. “It’s not what you think. It’s…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. Then he looked back up, his voice firm. “An ex showed up. Sarah.”

Your stomach dropped. “Sarah?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his tone grim. “She showed up at the bar that night, I was getting us take out. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to upset you. It was nothing, I swear. She wanted to talk, and I told her there was nothing to say. I left, doll. That’s it.”

The storm of emotions swirling in your chest only intensified. “You didn’t think I deserved to know? You didn’t think it would be worse to find out like this?”

“I didn’t want you to think…” He stopped, his voice faltering. “I didn’t want you to doubt us.”

“Doubt us?” you repeated, your voice breaking. “Hiding it from me makes me doubt us more, Bucky! How am I supposed to feel? You’re the one person I thought I could trust completely, and now…”

Tears blurred your vision again, and you shook your head, your arms wrapping around yourself. “Maybe this is too good to be true,” you whispered.

His eyes widened in panic, and he stepped forward, finally closing the distance between you. This time, you didn’t move away, too drained to resist.

“No,” he said firmly, his hands gently grasping your arms. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.” His voice softened, turning desperate. “There’s nothing and no one that could make me want anything but you. You’re it for me, sweetheart. You always have been.”

Your lip trembled as you searched his face, the sincerity in his eyes undeniable. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “Because I’m an idiot. Because it was nothing to me, and I didn’t want to risk hurting you. But I was wrong. I see that now. I should’ve told you.”

The raw emotion in his voice broke something inside you, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Bucky,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that one day, you’ll realize this was a mistake.”

His grip on you tightened, his forehead pressing against yours. “Never,” he murmured. “This is no mistake. You and me? This is the realest thing I’ve ever had. I’m sorry for screwing up, but please, don’t doubt that I’m all in.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, your breaths mingling as the weight of the moment settled between you. Then, slowly, you leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around you completely.

“I love you,” you whispered against his chest, the words raw and vulnerable.

“I love you more,” he replied, his voice steady and sure.

He kissed the top of your head, holding you close as the tension began to melt away. And though the ache in your chest hadn’t disappeared completely, his warmth and the conviction in his voice began to soothe it.

“Let’s go eat,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you.

You nodded, your lips quirking into a small smile. “Okay.”

The room was quiet except for the clinking of your fork against the plate. You were trying to eat, but everything in you felt like it was unraveling. Bucky sat across from you, his brow furrowed, watching you with worry as you pushed your food around.

Finally, you sighed, setting the fork down. “So I was with Natasha today.”

Bucky’s hand froze mid-reach for his glass of water. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously.

You nodded, feeling the lump in your throat grow tighter. “She… she basically told me she needed space. That she doesn’t understand why Steve fell for me and not her. She was so angry, Buck.”

His jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What?” he said, his voice low.

“And then,” you continued, tears welling in your eyes again, “I ran into Steve on the way home, and he said he needs space, too. He said…” Your voice cracked. “He said I shouldn’t be with you. That I should be with him.”

Bucky froze, his blue eyes darkening as his grip on the glass tightened. “He said that?”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I never asked for any of this, Buck. I never asked for him to love me, or for Nat to feel this way. I just—” Your voice broke entirely, and you buried your face in your hands.

Bucky was out of his chair in an instant, rounding the table and kneeling in front of you. Gently, he pulled your hands away from your face and cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “Sweetheart, those aren’t tears. That’s just too much salt in the food,” he teased softly, his voice thick with affection.

A choked laugh escaped you, and you looked down at your plate. “Buck, that’s my tears. I’m literally crying into my dinner.”

He gave you a small, crooked smile. “I know,” he said gently. “That’s why I’m here, doll. To make sure you don’t cry alone.”

You sniffled, leaning into his touch, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly. “I’ve been planning something,” he said, his voice hesitant but hopeful.

You blinked at him, confused. “Planning something?”

“Yeah,” he said, his hands still cradling your face. “The night I ran into Sarah, I wasn't just late because I was waiting for take out, I was on my way back from a meeting.”

“A meeting?” you repeated, your brow furrowing.

Bucky nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Do you remember where we used to go almost every summer as kids with my ma?”

Your heart gave a tiny flutter. “The cabin?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said, his grin growing. I found out who my family sold it to, they use it for a weekend. I thought… I thought maybe we could go. Just us.”

The flood of emotions was too much. Your face fell into your hands again, and sobs wracked your body.

“Whoa, whoa!” Bucky said quickly, his hands moving to your shoulders. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did I—was that too much?”

You shook your head, peeking up at him through your tears. “No, Bucky. Of course, I want to go. I want to go so badly.”

His expression softened, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Then what’s with the tears, baby? You’re breaking my heart over here.”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “Everything is just… too much right now. But this? This is good. I need this.”

He chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Well, I hope you’re not mad, but I already told Tony we’re taking next weekend off. It’s all set up.”

You pulled back slightly, staring at him in disbelief. “You did?”

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Yep. It’s a whole shebang. We leave Friday morning.”

A warmth spread through your chest, and for the first time all day, you felt a sense of relief. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I try,” he teased, winking at you.

As you both settled back into your chairs, you pulled out your phone. “I need to tell Natasha… oh, right.” Your heart sank as you remembered her earlier words. Instead, you opened a message to Wanda.

You: Hey. I just wanted to tell you what happened today. I saw Nat, and… it didn’t go well.

Wanda: I heard. I’m so sorry, sweetie. She’s not in the right here, and you know it.

You: I just… I don’t know what to do.

Wanda: Let her have her space. She’ll come around. I’ll talk to her, okay?

You: Thanks, Wan.... Bucky's taking me away for the weekend :)

Wanda: Anytime <3 omg!! So sweet, have the best time babe, you deserve it xo

Bucky reached over and squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to him. “You good?”

You smiled weakly. “Im good.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Good. Now finish your food before I have to start feeding you myself.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing just a little as the two of you settled into the comfort of each other’s presence.

[enemiestolovershoe]

I‘m here

Nick Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: Y/N finds out she’s pregnant with her abusive ex’s baby. Her best friend Nick is there to support her.

Words: 11,6k (it‘s a long one holy)

Warnings: use of y/n, not proofread, mention of abuse, giving birth, pregnancy

A/n: This was a request by anon. If you don’t like it please scroll. Nick and reader are strictly just best friends. There is no love between Nick and a female character.

You never saw yourself buying a pregnancy test in the middle of the night, at the ripe age of 22. Yet here you were, standing in the fluorescent-lit aisle of a drugstore that had seen better days. The walls were dull, and off-white, and the hum of the overhead lights was enough to make your head pound just a little harder.

You grabbed the box off the shelf with shaking hands, barely registering the brands or the promises of "accurate results." Did it matter? A test was a test, and the possibility of what it might say made your stomach churn. You glanced at the clock on your phone. 2:16 a.m. A time when the world was supposed to be quiet, asleep, not dealing with life-altering situations.

The cashier, a disinterested-looking girl around your age with bleached-blonde hair and smudged eyeliner, looked up as you dropped the box onto the counter. Her name tag read "Bailey." She scanned the test with a little too much indifference for your liking, her gum snapping between her teeth.

"That’ll be $14.99," she said, tapping her nails against the counter like she couldn’t care less that your world felt like it was teetering on the edge of collapse.

You fumbled with your wallet, your hands still shaking. This was not how things were supposed to go. You weren't supposed to be in this position, not after everything with him. Your chest tightened at the thought of your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself. The bruises on your heart were fresher than the ones on your skin, but it didn’t matter. He was still cheating, still lying, and now this?

Bailey gave you a once-over and raised an eyebrow. “You, uh, want a bag for that?”

You blinked, realizing you’d been standing there, frozen. “No, I’m good,” you muttered, stuffing the box into your jacket pocket as discreetly as possible.

“Yeah, sure.” Bailey chewed her gum louder, tapping her fingers on the counter in some kind of rhythm. “Listen, I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on, but I’ve seen plenty of girls buy these at 2 a.m. And, uh...”

You glanced up, catching her eye.

“You can’t shake away that plus sign if it shows up,” she finished, not unkindly. “Just... good luck.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to respond, and hurried to the back of the store, where a dingy, single-stall bathroom awaited. You locked the door behind you with shaky fingers, pulling the pregnancy test from your pocket.

Sitting down on the edge of the grimy toilet seat, you tried to focus. Just do it. It’ll be fine. It’ll be negative. It has to be.

The moments after felt like a blur. The test was done, and now there was nothing left but to wait. You set it on the edge of the sink, avoiding it like it might burn you if you looked too soon.

It's probably just late. Your thoughts spiraled, trying to find any possible explanation other than the obvious. Stress can mess up your cycle, right? And after all the stuff with him... It has to be that. Just stress.

You sat there, staring at the floor tiles, counting the seconds in your head. Maybe you didn’t even want to know. Maybe it’d be better if you just threw the test away, walked out, and pretended none of this ever happened.

But you couldn’t.

When the time came, you reached for it with trembling hands.

The world seemed to slow as you looked at the result.

Two lines. A plus sign.

Positive.

Your stomach dropped a wave of nausea hitting you so hard you thought you might actually be sick. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. You blinked, staring at the test like it might change if you looked at it long enough.

No, no, no...

You fumbled for your phone, the only thing grounding you in the moment. There was one person you needed to talk to, the only person who could make sense of the chaos that was crashing around you right now.

Nick.

Your best friend since forever. The one person who never judged you, never made you feel small, even when you made the worst decisions—like dating him. Nick had warned you about him, but you didn’t listen. And now here you were.

With shaky fingers, you hit Nick’s contact and brought the phone to your ear, your heart racing with each ring.

C’mon, Nick. Please pick up.

Ring.

You paced the tiny bathroom, unable to stand still, the walls closing in on you as the test sat on the counter, mocking you with its little pink plus.

Ring.

You ran a hand through your hair, blinking back tears you didn’t even realize had started to form. Your mind raced, jumping from one fear to the next. What am I supposed to do? How do I even begin to tell him this?

Ring.

The buzzing of the fluorescent light above you felt deafening, matching the pounding in your head. You leaned against the door, squeezing your eyes shut.

The ringing stopped, and then came the sound of a groggy but familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Girl, it's nearly 3 a.m.," Nick mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “What’s up? Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?”

You swallowed hard, clutching the phone tightly in your hand as you stared at the bathroom floor. You could feel your pulse in your ears, every word sticking in your throat. How do I even say this?

“Uh, I know you’re sleeping, and I’m sorry, but... can you pick me up at the drugstore near your house? I walked here so I have no car.”

The line went quiet for a second. You could hear him shifting in bed, probably rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of what you’d just said.

“Girl, what do you mean you walked there?” Nick’s voice immediately sharpened, the sleepiness vanishing as concern crept in. “That’s, like, an hour from your house. Are you serious?”

You cringed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah... I didn’t really think it through. I just... I needed to clear my head.”

“Okay, but what are you even doing at a drugstore at this time? You didn’t feel like going for a walk, I know that.” Nick's voice softened but held that edge of worry he always had when something was wrong.

You inhaled sharply, your eyes flicking to the pregnancy test still sitting on the sink like it was mocking you. “I... I bought a pregnancy test.”

Silence.

The weight of your words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he had heard you right. But then he exhaled, long and slow, like he was trying to piece it all together.

“Wait,” Nick said carefully, his voice gentler now, but still with that underlying shock, “you? A pregnancy test? As in... like... you think you’re—?”

“Yeah,” you cut in, your voice small. “I, uh, already took it. It’s... it’s positive.”

You heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Nick was quiet again, but you knew him well enough to picture his face right now—his eyes probably wide with shock, hand rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was trying to process something.

“Girl,” he said slowly, his voice low and laced with concern, “you’re telling me, you walked an hour to a drugstore in the middle of the night, took a pregnancy test in some sketchy bathroom, and now you’re just standing there... by yourself? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes, making your voice tremble. “I didn’t want to drag you into this, Nick. And I was freaking out, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Okay, no. You always call me, no matter what, you know that,” he said firmly, the protective tone in his voice unmistakable. “I don’t care what time it is. If you’re going through something like this, I’m there.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m sorry... I just didn’t know how to deal with this on my own.”

There was a pause, then Nick sighed softly. “Look, it’s fine. You’re not dealing with it on your own. I’m coming to get you, okay? I’ll be there in 15.”

You sniffled, wiping at the tears that had started to roll down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, babe.” His voice was softer now, more like the Nick you were used to—the one who knew exactly how to calm you down when everything felt too overwhelming. “But seriously, don’t freak out until I get there. Just breathe. We’ll figure this out together.”

You nodded again, trying to steady your breathing, even though your mind was still racing. “I’ll try.”

“And while I’m on my way... do me a favor and get out of that bathroom. Go stand by the doors or something, ‘cause, like, ew.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped your lips. Leave it to Nick to somehow make you laugh even in a moment like this. “Yeah, okay. The bathroom’s gross.”

“I can smell it through the phone,” he joked, the warmth returning to his voice, even though you could hear the worry lingering underneath. “Just hang tight. I’ll be there soon.”

You took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping back into the cool, dimly-lit store. The fluorescent lights were harsh, casting long shadows over the aisles. You made your way to the front, standing near the automatic doors, arms wrapped around yourself as you tried to shake off the anxiety gnawing at your chest.

It wasn’t long before the cold air of the night outside started to seep in through the cracks in the doors. You stared out into the empty street, your thoughts swirling. Everything felt surreal—like you were watching someone else’s life unfold instead of your own.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. It was a message from Nick: “Almost there, hang on.”

You took a deep breath, glancing back over at the cashier, Maddie, who was still behind the counter, barely paying attention to you anymore. She probably thought you were just another lost soul wandering into the store in the dead of night.

But you weren’t lost, not anymore—not with Nick on his way. Even though everything was spiraling, you knew that with him there, somehow, things would start to make sense.

Another minute passed, and then you saw the headlights of Nick’s car pulling into the parking lot. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your heart still heavy but just a little lighter knowing he was there.

Before you knew it, Nick’s car rolled to a stop, and you could see him through the windshield, already looking concerned as he squinted out at you, pushing his messy curls out of his eyes.

He stepped out, walking toward the entrance, his expression a mix of worry and exhaustion, but there was no question—he was here for you.

Just like he always was.

The tears started to flow as soon as you and Nick made eye contact. You couldn’t hold them back anymore; the weight of everything—the test, the fear, the walk—crashed over you all at once. Nick’s face softened immediately, his eyes widening as he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, warm hug.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice gentle as he held you close. “I’m here. You’re okay, babe. I’ve got you.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting the sobs break free. Nick’s hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, the way he always did when he knew you were on the verge of breaking down. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, just letting you cry, holding you like he was physically keeping you from falling apart.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again. “We’re gonna figure this out. You’re not alone, I promise.”

The words were like a balm to your heart, calming you just enough to breathe a little easier. You pulled back slightly, wiping at your eyes, embarrassed by how much you were crying but too tired to care.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” Nick said firmly, his hands still on your shoulders. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, okay? You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to cry.”

You nodded, biting your lip to stop it from trembling. He gave you one last squeeze before stepping back, though his hand stayed on your arm, like he was still making sure you weren’t going to fall over.

“Do you wanna sleep at mine tonight?” he asked softly, his eyes searching your face. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah,” you whispered, nodding. “I... I don’t want to go home.”

He smiled softly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes—he was still worried. “Good. Let’s get you out of here.”

Nick walked you to the car, his arm around your shoulder like a protective shield from the cold and the weight of the night. As you slid into the passenger seat, you could still feel the tension in your chest, but it eased a little with him next to you. He started the car, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between you both.

For a while, you just stared out the window, watching the empty streets roll by as Nick drove, his hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual. The city was quiet at this hour, the streetlights casting long shadows on the road. It felt strange—like the world had paused, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

Nick broke the silence first.

“So... do you wanna talk about it? Or do you just wanna sit in silence for a while?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Okay,” he said softly, glancing over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road. “No pressure. You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, your fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of your jacket. “I guess... I just don’t know what to do now,” you said finally, your voice small. “I never thought I’d be... here, you know?”

Nick nodded, his eyes fixed on the road, but you could tell he was listening carefully. “I get it. It’s a lot, babe. Like, a lot. But you don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

You let out a shaky breath, rubbing your eyes. “I just feel so stupid. I should’ve seen this coming. I mean, after everything with him...”

Nick’s jaw tightened at the mention of your ex. He had never liked him, and it wasn’t just because of the cheating. It was the way your ex treated you, the way he chipped away at your confidence and left bruises on more than just your skin.

“Hey,” Nick said sharply, cutting off your spiral of self-blame. “None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. That guy is a complete piece of—” He caught himself, taking a deep breath. “You deserve so much better than the way he treated you. And now... this? You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears. “I just... I feel like my life’s been on fire lately, and this is just... gasoline.”

Nick sighed softly, reaching over and giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I know it feels like everything’s falling apart right now. But you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out, okay? Whatever you decide, I’m right here with you. Every step of the way.”

His words felt like a lifeline in the chaos of your thoughts. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without crying again.

The car ride was quiet after that, the sound of the tires on the pavement the only thing filling the space between you. Nick didn’t push you to talk more, and you were grateful for that. Just having him there was enough.

After a while, Nick cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So... totally random question. But, like, do you want ice cream or something? I mean, I don’t know what you’re supposed to eat after... you know... life-shattering news, but I feel like ice cream’s a safe bet.”

You let out a small laugh, surprised by how light the moment felt after everything. “Yeah... ice cream sounds good, actually.”

Nick grinned, his shoulders relaxing a little at the sound of your laugh. “Perfect. We’ll swing by that 24-hour place near my apartment. They’ve got this ridiculous flavor called ‘Midnight Madness,’ and honestly, I think it was made for situations like this.”

You smiled, wiping the last of your tears away. “Midnight Madness. Sounds appropriate.”

“Exactly,” Nick said, turning the corner onto a quieter street. “I mean, it’s either that or we just drink a gallon of coffee and pretend like sleep isn’t a thing.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll stick with ice cream,” you said, feeling a flicker of lightness in your chest for the first time in hours.

“Good choice,” he nodded, pulling into the parking lot of the ice cream shop. “Because caffeine and emotional breakdowns? Not a good combo.”

You smiled to yourself as the car slowed to a stop. Nick was right—you didn’t have to figure everything out tonight. You didn’t have to have all the answers right now. You had Nick. You weren’t alone.

And for tonight, that was enough.

By the time you got back to Nick’s place, the weight of the night had started to settle in your bones, exhaustion creeping up on you. But Nick, being Nick, refused to let the mood stay heavy for too long.

"Alright," he said, tossing his keys on the counter and motioning dramatically toward the living room. "We're watching a movie, and no, you don't get to pick some tragic, artsy thing that'll make you cry more. I’m thinking... something trashy and comforting. How do we feel about a classic rom-com? Or, wait—Legally Blonde? It's practically medicine."

A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. "Legally Blonde sounds perfect."

Nick grinned, pleased with himself as he grabbed the remote and flicked through the streaming options. He sat down next to you on the couch, grabbing a blanket from the back and wrapping it around the both of you without even asking.

As the familiar opening scenes of Legally Blonde played, the tension in your chest eased just a little more. You didn’t say much during the movie, and neither did Nick. It was a kind of comfortable silence you could only share with your best friend, the kind where words weren’t really necessary. Every now and then, Nick would shoot you a look, checking to make sure you were okay, and each time, you managed a small smile to reassure him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

The next thing you knew, the movie was over, and your eyelids felt impossibly heavy. The warmth of the blanket, combined with the exhaustion of the night, finally pulled you under. You drifted off to sleep on the couch, with Nick quietly putting everything away, making sure you were comfortable before heading to bed himself.

When you woke up the next morning, the sun was streaming softly through the curtains, casting the living room in a warm, golden glow. For a moment, you forgot about everything. The weight in your chest had lifted just slightly, and you could hear the comforting sounds of Nick moving around in the kitchen.

You stretched, blinking sleepily as the events of the night before slowly came rushing back. The positive test. The panic. The long walk to the drugstore. But then there was Nick—pulling you out of the darkness, like he always did.

The smell of pancakes drifted into the living room, making you realize just how hungry you were. You pulled yourself up from the couch, rubbing your eyes, and wandered toward the kitchen.

Nick stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with one hand while holding his phone to his ear with the other. He was speaking quietly, his tone casual but focused.

“Yeah, so we’re looking to get her an appointment as soon as possible... Yes, I know she hasn’t been in for a while, but this is a bit of an emergency situation.”

You blinked in surprise, watching him for a moment. He was making pancakes and calling your OBGYN? The knot in your chest loosened just a little more. You stood there, leaning against the doorway, feeling a wave of gratitude for him that was almost overwhelming.

Nick glanced over at you and gave you a small, reassuring smile, holding up a finger to let you know he’d be done in a minute. “Okay, that works. We’ll take that slot. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone, setting it down on the counter before turning back to the pancakes. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “I hope you’re ready for the best pancakes of your life because I’m in a zone today.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even though your emotions were still all over the place. “You called my OBGYN?”

“Of course I did,” Nick said, not missing a beat as he flipped another pancake. “Figured you’d want to get in as soon as possible. I booked you for Wednesday morning—does that work?”

You nodded, the gratitude swelling in your chest. You didn’t have the words for how much it meant that he’d already taken care of something you hadn’t even thought about yet. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Nick turned around, his playful expression softening when he saw the look on your face. “Hey,” he said gently, stepping toward you. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing what any good best friend would do.”

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He froze for a second, then hugged you back just as tightly, one hand rubbing your back as you buried your face in his shoulder.

“Seriously,” you mumbled into his hoodie. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Nick’s voice was soft, but steady. “You don’t ever have to find out, okay? I’m here, always.”

You stayed like that for a minute, just holding onto him. Tears threatened to spill again, but this time they weren’t out of panic. They were a mixture of relief and sadness, the enormity of the situation sinking in, but knowing you didn’t have to face it alone made it just a little more bearable.

Eventually, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Okay,” you sniffled, trying to regain some composure. “I’m ready for those pancakes now.”

Nick grinned and turned back to the stove. “Coming right up. Get ready to be blown away.”

A few minutes later, you were sitting at his small kitchen table, plates of fluffy pancakes in front of you, topped with fresh berries and syrup. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the first bite melted in your mouth. It was like a little slice of comfort amidst the chaos.

Nick sat across from you, watching you for a moment before he picked up his fork. “So,” he said cautiously, after a few moments of quiet chewing. “I know we’ve kind of... avoided talking about this, but... do you think you’re gonna tell him?”

Your fork paused mid-air. You felt a cold wave rush through you, and for a moment, your heart stopped. You hadn’t even let yourself think about that—about him. The thought of telling your ex, of his reaction, made your stomach churn.

Nick noticed the way you froze, his brow furrowing with concern. “I don’t mean to freak you out,” he said quickly, setting down his fork. “You don’t have to have an answer right now. I just... figured we should probably talk about it at some point.”

You swallowed hard, your appetite vanishing as a knot of anxiety formed in your chest again. “I don’t know,” you whispered, staring down at your plate. “I don’t know what to do about him. I don’t even know if I want to tell him.”

Nick was quiet for a moment, giving you the space to work through your thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle but firm. “You don’t owe him anything. You know that, right? If you don’t want to tell him, you don’t have to.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you thought about your ex—about the way he had treated you, the cheating, the lies, the emotional scars that still hadn’t healed. The idea of bringing him into this, of him having any part in your life again, terrified you.

“I just... I don’t want him to hurt me again,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “And I don’t want him to have any control over this.”

Nick reached across the table and took your hand, squeezing it gently. “He won’t. Not if you don’t let him. You’re in control here, okay? You get to decide what happens next.”

The tears finally spilled over, and you wiped them away quickly, frustrated with how easily they seemed to come these days. “I’m scared, Nick,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. “And that’s okay. This is a huge thing, but you don’t have to figure it out all at once. You’ve got time, and whatever you decide, I’ll be right there with you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and squeezing his hand back. "Thank you," you whispered again, the words feeling inadequate for everything Nick was doing for you.

Nick gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m always gonna be here, babe. Always.”

The two of you sat there for a moment in the quiet kitchen, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the background. You knew you had a long road ahead of you, with more questions than answers, but having Nick by your side made it feel just a little bit less impossible.

Wednesday came faster than you thought it would, the days blurring together in a haze of anxiety and sleepless nights. You had spent the past few days trying to mentally prepare yourself for this moment, but nothing really seemed to make the weight on your chest go away.

And now, here you were, sitting in the OBGYN’s waiting room, tapping your knee nervously up and down. The steady rhythm was the only thing keeping you from feeling completely overwhelmed. The sterile scent of the office, the distant hum of soft conversations, and the quiet tapping of computer keys only made the whole thing feel more surreal.

Nick sat to your left, his arm casually draped around the back of your chair, gently stroking your shoulder. It was his way of grounding you, of reminding you that you weren’t in this alone. You were grateful for him, but no amount of comfort could shake the gnawing anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

"You’re gonna be fine," Nick said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Whatever happens in there, we’ll handle it together. I promise."

You nodded, biting your lip, trying to hold on to his words. But it was hard to calm down when the future felt like it was dangling in front of you, just out of reach. A part of you still couldn’t believe you were sitting here, waiting to have your pregnancy confirmed by a doctor. It didn’t feel real—like you were watching it all happen to someone else.

The sound of your name being called jolted you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the nurse standing at the door with a clipboard, giving you a polite smile.

"That’s us," Nick said softly, giving your back one last reassuring pat before standing up.

You swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as you stood. Your legs felt a little shaky as you followed the nurse, Nick right beside you, his presence a steadying force. The hallway seemed longer than it actually was, the walls feeling too bright, too clean. Everything felt too much.

The nurse led you into a small, dimly lit room and motioned toward the ultrasound bed. “You can go ahead and lie down,” she said, her voice kind but efficient. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

You glanced nervously at Nick, who gave you a small nod. "You got this," he whispered, standing by the chair next to the bed.

With a shaky breath, you laid down on the bed, trying to calm your racing heart. The paper crinkled underneath you as you adjusted, and your fingers instinctively gripped the edge of the bed.

A moment later, the OBGYN walked in—a woman in her late 40s with warm eyes and a calm presence that put you at ease, even if just a little. She smiled kindly at you, introducing herself before slipping on a pair of gloves.

“So, I understand you’re here to confirm a pregnancy?” she asked gently, her voice soothing but professional.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice just yet.

"Alright," she said, rolling her stool over to the side of the bed. "Let’s take a look, okay? This will feel a little cold."

She squeezed the gel onto your abdomen, and the sudden chill made you flinch slightly. Nick reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze, a reminder that he was right there with you.

The doctor moved the ultrasound wand across your stomach, her eyes focused on the screen next to her. You couldn’t see what she was looking at, and your nerves spiked as the seconds seemed to stretch into eternity. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest, you were sure Nick could hear it from where he stood.

Finally, the doctor’s expression softened into a small, gentle smile. She turned the screen slightly toward you.

"There we are," she said softly, pointing to a small, flickering shape on the monitor. "It looks like you’re about eight weeks pregnant."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared at the screen, that tiny flicker—the heartbeat. It was so small, so fragile, but there it was. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave. This wasn’t just an idea anymore, not just a terrifying thought in the back of your mind. It was real. There was a tiny life growing inside of you.

Nick leaned over, his eyes widening as he looked at the screen. “Wow,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s... kinda wild.”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You weren’t even sure what you were feeling—shock, fear, maybe even a little awe. It was all tangled together in a mess of emotions you couldn’t quite untangle.

The doctor gave you a few more details—your due date, some advice for the coming weeks—but most of it blurred in your mind. She printed out a few ultrasound pictures and handed them to you, along with instructions for your next appointment. You took them in a daze, your fingers trembling slightly as you looked down at the tiny, grainy images.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" the doctor said gently as you and Nick stood to leave. "If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call."

You nodded, managing a small “thank you” before following Nick out of the room. The hallway felt even longer this time, and your legs were heavier with each step. The weight of everything was pressing down on you again, and your mind was racing.

You were barely aware of Nick talking beside you, something about stopping for food after this. You couldn’t focus, though. Your eyes were glued to the ultrasound pictures in your hand.

As you stepped back into the waiting room, your eyes instinctively scanned the room. And then you saw him.

Your heart stopped.

Sitting on one of the chairs across the room was your ex. He was casually talking to a girl beside him, and as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough already, she was clearly pregnant too—her belly rounded and prominent. They were laughing about something, completely oblivious to your presence.

You froze in your tracks, the blood draining from your face as a cold chill washed over you. It was like time stopped, your body going rigid as your mind tried to process what you were seeing.

Nick followed your gaze, and when he saw your ex sitting there, his entire body tensed beside you.

“Oh my God,” Nick whispered, his voice sharp but low. He moved slightly in front of you, instinctively shielding you from view, but your eyes were still locked on your ex, unable to look away.

You couldn’t breathe. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. The ultrasound pictures slipped from your fingers, fluttering to the floor in slow motion.

Nick crouched down quickly, picking them up. “Don’t... don’t look at him,” he said softly, his voice urgent. “Let’s just go, okay?”

But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even think. Seeing him there, with her, laughing and looking so carefree, it felt like a knife twisting in your gut. Everything you had been through with him, all the pain he’d caused, came rushing back in an overwhelming wave.

The tears you had been holding back started to spill over. You felt Nick’s hand on your arm, trying to gently pull you toward the exit, but your legs were locked in place, your chest tightening with the familiar ache of heartbreak.

How could he be here, so happy, while you were drowning in the chaos he left behind?

"Come on," Nick said gently, his voice a lifeline in the storm. "Let’s get out of here."

But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Nick tried to lead you toward the exit, his grip firm but gentle, urging you to get out of there before things escalated. But it was too late.

Your ex, Jaden, looked up, and his eyes locked on you. The lighthearted conversation he had been having with the girl next to him came to a screeching halt. His face twisted, and he rose from his seat with a sneer, his voice sharp and low as he cut through the quiet waiting room.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jaden whisper-shouted, his voice dripping with venom as he stormed toward you.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Every muscle in your body froze. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. You stood there, your mind blank, caught in the headlights of a train wreck you couldn’t stop.

Nick instinctively stepped closer to you, his posture protective, but before either of you could respond, Jaden’s eyes flicked toward the ultrasound pictures in Nick’s hand. His expression changed instantly, eyes narrowing, as if he was putting the pieces together in real time.

A sick smirk crept across his face. “Well, well, well,” Jaden drawled, loud enough that the other people in the waiting room started to glance over. “Looks like Nick isn’t so gay after all, huh? Guess you’ve been lying to me this whole time, haven’t you, Y/N?”

The accusation hit you like a punch to the gut. The sheer absurdity of it—of him twisting the situation to fit his own narrative—made your head spin. He was the one who had lied, who had cheated, and now he was standing there, trying to paint you as the one who had betrayed him.

Nick’s jaw tightened beside you, his eyes flashing with anger. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped, but Jaden ignored him, his eyes fixed on you like a predator waiting for its prey to break.

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the wave of emotion threatening to pull you under.

“It’s yours, Jaden,” you finally said, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. “I never ever slept with anyone but you.”

Jaden’s smirk faltered for a split second, but he quickly masked it with a derisive laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, really?” he sneered. “And I’m just supposed to believe that? After all the shit you put me through, you expect me to buy that?”

Your fists clenched at your sides. The audacity—the absolute nerve of him to stand there and act like you were the one who had done something wrong. Anger bubbled up inside you, pushing through the fear and the hurt, giving you the strength to speak.

“You don’t have to believe anything, Jaden,” you said, your voice steadier now. “But it’s the truth. I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”

You glanced pointedly at the girl standing next to him—the girl who was now watching the scene unfold with a smug, snake-like smile curling on her lips. She was rubbing her belly absentmindedly, her eyes flicking between you and Jaden, clearly enjoying the drama.

“But I can’t say the same for you, can I?” you added, your gaze hardening as you looked back at him. “Since you’re obviously doing just fine, starting a whole new life while we were still together.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and tense. Jaden’s smirk faded completely, his face twisting in anger now, but he didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t need to. The girl next to him, however, decided to chime in, her voice dripping with condescension.

“Well, isn’t this a little awkward,” she said, her smile widening as she leaned into Jaden’s side. “I guess it’s a good thing Jaden moved on, huh? Clearly, you’ve got enough going on.”

Her words sent a fresh wave of anger through you, but Nick beat you to it. He stepped forward, his voice cold and sharp as he addressed her. “Oh, sweetheart,” Nick said, his smile saccharine and full of venom. “You’re really gonna sit there and act smug while he’s got two women pregnant at the same time? Trust me, you’re not as special as you think.”

The girl’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, the confidence in her eyes flickered. But Jaden quickly stepped in front of her, his chest puffed up like he was ready for a fight.

“Mind your own business, Nick,” Jaden snarled. “This isn’t about you.”

Nick didn’t back down. “Actually, it is about me when you’re out here accusing me of sleeping with my best friend—who, for the record, I would never. So, yeah, I’m making it my business.”

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of appreciation for Nick. He had always had your back, but seeing him stand up for you now, when you felt so vulnerable, meant everything.

Jaden looked like he wanted to say more, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of dragging this out any further. You were done—done with his lies, done with the manipulation, and done with the way he always found a way to twist everything around.

You straightened your shoulders, taking a deep breath as you looked Jaden dead in the eyes. “I don’t owe you anything,” you said firmly. “Not an explanation, not a conversation—nothing. This baby is yours, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure it’s safe. But you? You’re nothing to me now.”

The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and Jaden’s face twisted with a mixture of disbelief and anger. Before he could respond, you turned on your heel and walked toward the exit, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nick followed close behind, casting one last withering look at Jaden and his girlfriend before catching up to you. As soon as the glass doors of the office slid shut behind you, the flood of emotions came crashing down, and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

Nick gently placed a hand on your back as the two of you stood outside, the cool air hitting your face. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded, but your throat was tight with unshed tears. "I just want to go home," you whispered.

Nick wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug as he led you to the car. "Then let's get out of here, babe," he said softly. "We’re done with him. You don’t have to deal with that shit anymore."

The past few months had been better than you ever could have imagined. Sure, things weren’t easy, but having Nick by your side through it all made it feel bearable. He had always been your rock, but lately, it felt like he was more than that—your lifeline, your sense of stability when everything else was chaotic. You leaned on him more than you ever thought possible, and he welcomed it, never once making you feel like a burden.

You sold your house a few weeks ago. It was bittersweet—leaving the place that held so many memories, but also so much pain. The house was a reminder of Jaden, of all the hurt he’d caused, and it was time to let it go. Moving in with Nick felt like a fresh start, a clean slate for you and the baby.

Nick had insisted, of course, that it was as much your house as it was his now. “It’s not just me helping you out,” he’d said, his voice firm and sincere. “This is our home. We’re in this together, okay?”

And that was how it had been. Together. Through the sleepless nights, the doctor’s appointments, and the overwhelming emotions, Nick had been by your side, never once wavering.

You were now 30 weeks pregnant, your belly round and prominent as you worked on putting the finishing touches on the nursery. The room was small but cozy, painted in soft shades of blue and white, the kind of space you hoped would feel comforting for the baby when he arrived.

Nick was nearby, busy assembling a crib with a determined look on his face, the manual spread out in front of him. He had been working on it for the past half hour, muttering things like “how does this even go together?” and “I swear they make these things impossible on purpose.”

You watched him with a small smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. He wasn’t just doing this out of obligation; he genuinely cared. He had stepped into this role with more grace than you could have ever asked for, and it made you feel less alone, less afraid of what was coming.

As you folded tiny baby clothes into a drawer, your mind wandered to a few weeks back—the fallout you and Nick had after a particularly rough night. You were in the middle of a full-blown breakdown, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

Flashback:

You had been pacing around the living room, tears streaming down your face as you yelled into the void. “I can’t do this, Nick! I’m not strong enough. I don’t know how to raise a baby on my own!”

Nick had tried to comfort you, reaching out to hold you, but you had pushed him away, too consumed by your own fears to let him in. “I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay! What if I mess this up? What if—what if I’m not good enough?”

He had stood there, his own frustration evident, but never once raising his voice. “You’re not doing this alone, Y/N. You have me. I’m here. We’re a team, remember?”

But in that moment, nothing seemed to calm you. “You don’t get it, Nick!” you had cried out. “This isn’t your responsibility! You don’t have to do this just because you’re my best friend. This baby isn’t yours, and I—"

Nick had cut you off, his voice suddenly firm, yet full of emotion. “No. Stop. Just stop.”

You had frozen, stunned by the seriousness in his tone.

“I know this baby isn’t mine biologically,” he’d said, stepping closer, his eyes filled with both anger and love. “But I’m choosing to be here. I want to be here. This is our life now, and I’m not going anywhere. You and that little boy in there…” he’d gently placed a hand on your swollen belly, “...you’re part of my family.”

You had broken down completely then, collapsing into his arms as he held you, whispering promises that he would be there, that he would rise to this challenge right beside you.

“I’ll help raise this kid Y/N,” Nick had said, his voice cracking with sincerity. “I promise you, Y/N. We’ll do this together.”

That moment had changed everything for you. It was like something shifted inside, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Nick wasn’t just saying those things to make you feel better—he truly meant it.

Back to present:

Now, standing in the nursery, watching Nick fumble with the crib, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace, even amidst all the chaos. He had kept his word—he was here, by your side, every step of the way.

“You’re doing it wrong,” you teased, leaning against the dresser as you watched him struggle with one of the crib’s side panels.

Nick shot you a playful glare. “Oh, really? You wanna try putting this together then, Miss ‘I’m-Gonna-Supervise’?”

You laughed softly. “I think I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you. Besides, it looks like you’re almost done… maybe.”

He groaned dramatically. “Honestly, this should come with a warning. ‘Do not attempt to assemble without an engineering degree.’”

You smiled, feeling the baby kick inside you, a reminder of how real everything was becoming. “I think you’re doing great, honestly,” you said, your tone softer now. “I mean, if you can handle me, you can handle a crib, right?”

Nick looked up from the crib, a warm smile spreading across his face. “I’ll handle whatever comes our way. You, the crib, the baby… bring it on.”

That simple statement made your heart swell. It was moments like this—small, seemingly insignificant moments—that made you realize just how lucky you were to have Nick. He wasn’t just your best friend anymore; he was your partner in every way that mattered.

As you walked over to inspect the tiny bookshelf you’d been organizing, Nick asked, “So, have you thought of any more names yet? We can’t keep calling him ‘little man’ forever, you know.”

You smiled, rubbing your belly absentmindedly. “I’ve thought of a few… but I don’t know. Nothing feels right yet.”

“Well, no pressure. We’ve still got a couple of months,” Nick said, leaning back on his hands as he admired the crib he’d finally finished. “But I’m just saying, ‘Nicolas’ has a nice ring to it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You wish.”

Nick grinned. “Hey, I’m just throwing it out there.”

The baby kicked again, and you winced slightly, placing a hand on your belly. Nick’s eyes immediately widened in concern. “You okay? Is he kicking hard again?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling through the slight discomfort. “He’s been practicing his karate moves all day.”

Nick walked over, kneeling beside you and placing his hand gently on your belly, waiting for the next kick. “Damn, kid’s got some strength. He’s definitely gonna be a troublemaker.”

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his hand on your belly. It was moments like this that made you feel truly grateful. You weren’t doing this alone. You had Nick. And even though things were far from perfect, it was okay. It was enough.

“You know…” Nick started softly, not looking at you, his eyes still focused on your belly. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom, Y/N.”

You blinked, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said firmly, looking up at you. “I’ve seen how strong you are, how much love you already have for him. You’re doing everything right.”

You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They weren’t the same tears of fear or frustration you’d cried so many times before. These were different—softer, full of gratitude.

Nick stood up and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you. “I’m here, okay? Always.”

You hugged him back, feeling the overwhelming comfort of his presence. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered.

“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out,” he teased lightly, but his words were full of sincerity.

The nursery was almost ready. Your life had changed so much in the past few months, and despite everything—the heartbreak, the uncertainty, the fear—you knew, standing there in Nick’s arms, that everything was going to be okay.

At 35 weeks pregnant, life had settled into a new kind of normal. It wasn’t the life you expected, but it was one that felt full—warm, even. Nick had been by your side from the beginning, supporting you every step of the way. And now, his boyfriend Henry had seamlessly joined the fold, bringing an ease to everything that made you feel a little more at home in this strange, unexpected chapter of your life.

Henry had been a pleasant surprise. When Nick first told you he was dating someone, you couldn’t help but worry about how someone new would react to the whole situation. After all, Nick wasn’t just your best friend anymore; he was also stepping up as a co-parent, and that wasn’t something everyone could handle. But Henry, with his calm demeanor and sharp sense of humor, never flinched. From the moment you met him, he treated the situation with warmth and understanding.

You remembered the first night he came over for dinner. The three of you sat around the kitchen, talking and laughing like old friends, the baby kicking gently as if reminding you that his world was about to get even bigger.

"So, how are you feeling?" Henry asked, his tone gentle but curious. "Nick tells me you’ve been getting a lot of kicks lately."

You nodded, smiling as you placed a hand on your belly. “Yeah, he’s pretty active. Sometimes it feels like he’s doing somersaults.”

Nick grinned, flipping a pancake in the pan. “She’s convinced he’s training for a future in sports.”

Henry chuckled, glancing at Nick. “Well, with the two of you handling things, he’s in good hands.”

That comment had meant more to you than you realized at the time. Having Henry’s support—even though he wasn’t as involved as Nick—made everything feel a little less daunting.

But the biggest change of all was that Matt and Chris were finally back from their year-long YouTube break. You’d known the triplets since you were all kids, and they were like brothers to you in every sense. While they were off traveling the world separately, they’d kept in close touch, FaceTiming regularly to check in on you and Nick. But there was nothing like having them home, right in the middle of the chaos.

The day they returned was filled with the kind of energy only the Sturniolo brothers could bring. You were resting on the couch when you heard the front door swing open, followed by the familiar sound of Matt’s voice.

"Home sweet home!" he called out, his voice carrying through the hallway.

Nick, who was lounging beside you on the couch, chuckled. “Brace yourself. Here comes trouble.”

Chris followed right behind Matt, his voice louder and more playful. “Where’s Y/N? I need to see her.”

You smiled as they appeared in the living room, their faces lighting up when they saw you sitting comfortably with your hand resting on your belly.

“There she is!” Chris beamed, dropping onto the couch beside you. “Finally. I feel like I’ve been gone forever.”

Matt plopped down on the other side, nudging you gently. “You look amazing. Seriously. We were worried we’d come back, and you’d be, like, ready to pop.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Trust me, I feel ready to pop some days.”

Chris grinned, leaning back as he looked between you and Nick. “So, how’s it been? Are you all settled in? Nursery done?”

Nick nodded, smiling proudly. “Yeah, we finished the nursery a couple weeks ago. It looks great.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “And how are you holding up? Any last-minute panics?”

You hesitated for a second, your mind drifting to the occasional worries that popped up—about the baby, about the future—but you brushed them aside. “I’m doing alright. It’s been... a lot. But with Nick here, and now you guys back, I feel good.”

Chris shifted beside you, his tone softening. “We’re here now, okay? Anything you need—doesn’t matter what it is—we’ve got you.”

Matt nodded, his expression serious for a moment. “Yeah, we’re not going anywhere. You’re not in this alone.”

The sincerity in their voices brought a wave of emotion over you. These were the people who knew you before everything fell apart. They’d been there through every high and low, and now, as you faced one of the biggest challenges of your life, they were here again, standing by your side.

Nick smiled, clearly relieved to have his brothers back. “I told you they’d be all over you the second they got back.”

You laughed, wiping at your eyes before any tears could fall. “I’m used to it.”

The rest of the afternoon was filled with the familiar banter that always made you feel at ease. Matt and Chris quickly fell back into their old rhythm, cracking jokes, making plans, and offering help—whether you needed it or not. You could tell they were excited to be back, and you couldn’t deny that having them here made the house feel fuller, more alive.

Later that evening, Henry came by after work, seamlessly blending into the lively dynamic. He greeted Matt and Chris with ease, already knowing so much about them from all the stories Nick had told him. The brothers took to Henry immediately, especially after he made them laugh within five minutes of walking through the door.

“Alright, so,” Henry said, settling into the armchair across from you. “When’s the baby shower? I feel like we need to throw a proper celebration now that everyone’s here.”

Nick groaned from the couch. “You know I hate that kind of thing.”

Matt shot Nick a teasing look. “Yeah, but it’s not about you, is it? It’s about Y/N and the baby. Come on, we should do something.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous. I don’t need anything fancy.”

Chris leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. “What if we keep it low-key? No big party. Just us. Something chill.”

Nick sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only if it’s small. No crazy decorations or whatever.”

Henry laughed, giving Nick a playful nudge. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it under control.”

The conversation shifted into light-hearted plans for the baby shower, with everyone tossing out ideas for food and music. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable.

Later, after the evening had quieted down and everyone started heading off to bed, you found yourself sitting in the nursery. The room was ready—crib, baby clothes, little stuffed animals. Everything was in its place, waiting for this new life to arrive. It was strange to think how different your life had become, but at the same time, it felt like it was exactly where it needed to be.

Nick poked his head into the nursery, his voice soft. “You okay?”

You looked up at him, smiling. “Yeah, I’m good. Just... taking it all in.”

He stepped inside, sitting down on the rocking chair across from you. “It’s surreal, huh? Everything’s coming together.”

You nodded, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “I didn’t think it would. Not after everything with Jaden.”

Nick’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. You’ve done so much already.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked down, blinking them away. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Nick stood up and walked over, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug. “And you won’t have to do it without me. We’ve got this.”

You hugged him back tightly, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You didn’t need to say anything. Nick already knew how much he meant to you, how much his presence had saved you from feeling completely alone in this journey.

As the night drew to a close and you finally headed to bed, the house felt full in a way it hadn’t in a long time. You had Nick, you had Henry, and now, Matt and Chris were back, bringing their chaotic energy with them. It wasn’t a traditional family by any means, but it was yours, and that was enough.

At 39 weeks pregnant, you felt like a ticking time bomb. Every day could be the day, and you were more than ready to meet your little boy. It was a bright Saturday morning, and you had decided to take advantage of the sunshine with a picnic at the park. Nick, Henry, Matt and Chris joined you, excited to celebrate your last few days of pregnancy in style.

You settled down on a blanket, surrounded by fresh strawberries, sandwiches, and a giant pitcher of lemonade. You were in the middle of enjoying a particularly juicy strawberry when you heard a faint pop. The moment felt surreal, like a scene straight out of a movie.

“What the hell was that?” you muttered, trying to brush it off. But then you felt a wet spot forming under your summer dress, and panic set in. “What the fuck? Did I just piss myself?” you exclaimed, reaching down to feel the dampness.

Nick was the first to react, his eyes widening in realization. “Girl, did your water just break?”

Before you could respond, a sharp pain shot through your lower belly, stealing your breath away. It felt like a vice tightening around you, and you gasped. Matt, who had been busy munching on a sandwich, put it down and jumped to his feet. “Yes! That was definitely your water breaking. We need to get you to the hospital—like, now!”

Henry was already moving, rushing to the driver’s seat of his car. “Chris, get in! We’ll drive her. You guys hop in the back!” He motioned for you to follow as Matt and Chris quickly rounded the blanket, helping you to your feet.

The ride to the hospital was a chaotic whirlwind. You were crammed in the back seat, Matt and Chris on either side of you, while Henry navigated through traffic with urgency. Each contraction sent waves of pain through your body, and you couldn’t help but cry out as they intensified.

“Breathe, Y/N, just breathe,” Nick said, his voice filled with concern. He took your hand in his, trying to anchor you amid the chaos.

“I can’t! It hurts so much!” you cried, gripping Matt’s hand tightly, nails digging into his skin.

Chris leaned closer, his expression serious. “It’s okay, you’re doing great. Just focus on the end goal. You’re about to meet your baby. Just hold on!”

“Why is this taking so long?” Henry asked, glancing nervously at the traffic ahead. “Come on, people, move!”

Finally, the hospital loomed in front of you, and Henry pulled into the emergency lane. He quickly parked and jumped out, running to the entrance to grab a nurse.

“Stay with me,” Chris said, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You’re almost there. We’re right behind you.”

When the nurses arrived with a wheelchair, you were relieved and terrified. They helped you into the chair, wheeling you quickly through the hospital corridors. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, and you could hear the distant sounds of other mothers in labor, some crying out in pain just like you.

They wheeled you into the delivery room, and once inside, the nurse quickly assessed the situation. “Alright, let’s get you settled in. Can you tell me your name and date of birth?”

You breathed heavily, focusing on the nurse’s face. “Y/N, and it’s 'your birthday'.”

“Perfect, thank you.” She kept moving, adjusting things around you as you tried to catch your breath. Just then, Nick poked his head through the door, looking slightly frazzled.

“Hey, can I come in?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes darting between you and the medical team. You could see the concern etched on his face.

“Nick, if you don’t mind, I want you by my side,” you managed to choke out between contractions. “But just if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind!” he said, rushing in and taking a seat beside you. His presence calmed your nerves slightly, grounding you as the pain surged again. “I’m here. You’re doing amazing, Y/N.”

The nurses continued preparing the room, and the energy shifted as they asked you a series of questions. One of the nurses turned to you, her voice warm. “Can you tell me when your last contraction was?”

You were about to answer when another wave hit you, sending you into another bout of crying. “I can’t—please, I don’t know!”

“Okay, okay,” Nick said, gently squeezing your hand. “Just breathe through it. I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”

Once the pain subsided, you caught your breath.

“We’re going to monitor you for a bit. Is there anyone else you’d like to have with you?” the nurse asked.

You glanced at Nick, who was looking back at you with concern in his eyes. “I don’t know. I mean… I have the guys. They’re outside.”

“Let them in if you want,” Nick encouraged. “The more support, the better.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. “Yes, please. I’d like them here.”

The nurse stepped out, and Nick kept talking to you, trying to distract you. “You’re so strong, Y/N. I can’t believe you’re doing this. I’d be a mess if I were in your position.”

“I wish I could say the same for you, but you’re always a mess,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood despite the pain.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Touché. Just think about how much fun we’re going to have with this little one.”

The door opened again, and in walked Matt and Chris, their expressions a mix of excitement and worry. “How’s it going?” Chris asked, rushing to your side. “What do you need?”

Matt leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. “You look like you’re handling it like a champ.”

“I don’t feel like a champ!” you exclaimed, another contraction hitting. You cried out, gripping Nick’s hand tighter. “Oh God, I can’t do this!”

“Yes, you can,” Chris said, looking you in the eye. “Just keep focusing on that little guy. You’re almost there.”

The nurse returned, adjusting some monitors as the guys settled in. “You’re doing great, Y/N. We’ll keep you as comfortable as possible. Just breathe, and let us know if you need anything.”

As the contractions continued to come in waves, you focused on the faces around you—Nick’s steady reassurance, Chris’s calming presence, and Matt’s playful banter. It was a whirlwind of chaos and love, and in that moment, you knew you were surrounded by your support system. You weren’t alone; you had them, and together, you were ready to face whatever came next.

After what felt like an eternity, the moment had finally come. The doctor and nurses began preparing for the final stage of labor, and you could feel the excitement mixed with anxiety in the room. Nick, Chris, Matt, and Henry were all right by your side, ready to support you through this monumental moment.

“Alright, Y/N, it’s time to start pushing,” the doctor said, her tone encouraging. “Just remember to breathe and push when you feel the contraction. You’ve got this!”

You nodded, adrenaline surging through you. “Okay, I’m ready,” you said, determination lacing your voice. Nick squeezed your hand tightly, his face a mask of concentration. “You’re going to be amazing, Y/N,” he said, his eyes filled with support.

“On the next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can,” the nurse instructed, positioning herself at the foot of the bed. “Just keep your focus. We’re almost there!”

As the contraction began, you felt a wave of pressure and instinctively tightened your muscles. “Here we go!” you exclaimed, gritting your teeth as you pushed with all your might.

“Come on, Y/N! You can do it!” Chris cheered, leaning closer to you. “Just like we practiced, right?”

You shot him a glare. “What did we practice, exactly? I don’t remember practicing this part!”

“It’s all about teamwork!” Matt chimed in, chuckling nervously. “We’re right here with you!”

The room filled with the sounds of encouragement and guidance as you continued to push. “Good job, Y/N! Keep going!” the doctor urged. “You’re so close! Just a few more pushes.”

“Just like you can take down a giant slice of pizza!” Henry added with a grin, trying to lighten the mood as he held your hand. “Picture that pizza in front of you. You’ve got this!”

With each push, you felt a mix of exhaustion and hope. You glanced at Nick, who was practically bouncing on his toes, his eyes wide with anticipation. “I can’t wait to meet him!” he said, his excitement palpable.

As the contraction peaked, you bore down again, the intensity taking over. “Push, Y/N! Push!” the nurse encouraged, her voice steady. You grunted, your body working against the pain, feeling every muscle straining as you focused on the task at hand.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the doctor said, “This is your last push, Y/N! Give it everything you’ve got!”

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself. “Okay! One last time!” you shouted, pushing with all your strength. It felt like the world narrowed down to that singular moment, and you poured everything into that final effort.

As the last push came to a close, the sound of a baby crying filled the room, echoing off the walls. You froze, disbelief washing over you. “Did… did he just cry?” you gasped, tears springing to your eyes.

“Yes! You did it, Y/N!” the nurse exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face as she carefully took your newborn son and laid him on your chest. The warmth of his tiny body against you sent waves of love crashing over you.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, looking down at your little boy. He was so beautiful, with a tuft of dark hair and tiny fingers grasping at the air. “He’s perfect.”

“Look at him!” Chris exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. “You did amazing!”

“Best. Baby. Ever,” Matt added, his eyes wide as he admired the tiny bundle.

The nurse quickly cleaned him up, her hands gentle and efficient. “Does anyone want to cut the umbilical cord?” she asked, looking around the room.

“I want to!” Nick said without hesitation, his face lighting up with joy. “Can I do it?”

“Absolutely!” the nurse replied, handing him a pair of sterile scissors. Nick approached the bedside, his hands shaking slightly with excitement. “I can’t believe this is happening right now,” he said, eyes glued to the tiny baby.

“Be careful, Nick!” you joked, unable to suppress a smile through the flood of emotions. “I’m trusting you not to drop him!”

“I’ll be the best cord-cutter ever!” he declared, his voice almost a squeal of excitement.

With the nurses guiding him, Nick carefully positioned the scissors and made the cut, his expression a mixture of awe and concentration. “There! I did it!” he announced, stepping back as the nurses wrapped your baby in a soft blanket.

“Congratulations, everyone!” the nurse said as she placed the baby back on your chest, this time fully bundled. “You did an incredible job, Y/N. You should be so proud.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you cradled your son against you, his little cries softening into gentle coos. “Thank you,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the moment. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re going to be an amazing mom,” Nick said, his eyes shining with pride as he watched you bond with your baby. “Look at how cute he is!”

Matt and Chris crowded closer, their faces filled with wonder. “We’re officially the coolest group now,” Chris said, beaming at the tiny being in your arms.

“Wait until he’s old enough to play basketball!” Matt laughed, already imagining all the fun times ahead. “He’ll be the star of the group!”

“Let’s just hope he inherits your appetite and not your cooking skills,” Henry teased, leaning in to get a better look.

“I think he’s going to be a pro at both!” Nick said, looking between you and the baby with sheer joy.

You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have such an incredible support system around you. Surrounded by your best friends, you knew that this journey of motherhood was just beginning, and you couldn’t wait to embrace every moment of it.

“Welcome to the world, Landon Nicolas Y/L/N.''

[nrhshm]

Hello!! May i please request an angsty hc/drabble where he patted reader's head or cupped her cheeks,her expression goes :0 and then she starts crying because she rarely received affection from anyone when she was little? with sabo/law and female reader please :)

Right away~~

Sabo and Law with an affection-depirived reader.

. Sfw

. Spoiler free

. Reader is gn (1st pov)

Sabo

The air smelled of fresh blooms, mingling with the earthy scent of the village cobblestones. Your flower stall was modest but well-kept, adorned with colorful arrangements that brought a touch of life to the quiet streets. It was a life of simplicity, one you had built after so many years of darkness.

The villagers were cordial enough—polite smiles and brief greetings—but you knew the truth behind their careful distance. You were the former slave who had been freed by Fisher Tiger. While you were grateful for the life you had now, the shadow of your past loomed large, casting a cloud of fear over the people around you.

But there was one person who always stood out.

Sabo.

He had been a regular at your stall for months now, always buying daffodils. He never said why or who they were for, but his warm smile and gentle demeanor made his visits a highlight of your day. His sunny personality, paired with the sparkle in his eyes, had a way of making you forget the weight of your past, even if only for a few moments.

---

It was a quiet afternoon when the incident happened.

An old woman approached your stall, her expression already sour. “Do you have carnations?” she barked.

You shook your head politely. “I’m sorry, we’re sold out for today.”

Her face twisted with irritation. “Sold out? What kind of flower seller doesn’t have carnations? Useless!”

Her voice rose, drawing the attention of passersby. You tried to remain calm, offering a small smile and a soft apology, but she wasn’t finished.

“You think you can just stand here, pretending to belong in this village?” she spat. “Everyone knows what you are. A slave. A walking liability! How long before the government comes and razes this place because of you?”

The words struck like a physical blow. Your chest tightened, and your breath came in shallow gasps. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The crowd had gathered now, their eyes on you—judging, pitying, or worse, agreeing.

---

“Enough of this.”

The voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Sabo stepped forward, his usually lighthearted demeanor replaced by a calm authority that silenced the murmurs of the crowd. He stood between you and the old woman, his presence commanding and unyielding.

“This behavior is unacceptable,” he said, his tone firm yet composed. “No one, no matter their past, deserves to be treated like this. She’s done nothing but contribute to this village with her kindness and hard work. What have you done, exactly, besides spread bitterness?”

The old woman bristled. “I was just speaking the truth! People like her bring trouble—”

Sabo interrupted her with a polite but pointed smile. “The truth, ma’am, is that she has more strength in her little finger than most of us will ever have. And if you have a problem with her, then perhaps you should reconsider who the real troublemaker is.”

The crowd shifted uneasily. The old woman, her indignation faltering, grumbled something under her breath and walked away.

Sabo turned to the onlookers. “Show’s over, folks. If you don’t have anything kind to say or do, maybe it’s time to get back to your day.”

The villagers dispersed, their curiosity satisfied, leaving the two of you alone.

---

Sabo’s expression softened as he turned back to you. Kneeling slightly, he picked up a daffodil that had fallen during the commotion and gently placed it in your trembling hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice warm and soothing. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You stared at the flower, your fingers trembling around its delicate stem. His kindness was like a balm to the raw ache in your chest.

Noticing you were still shaken, Sabo stepped closer and placed a hand gently on your head, his fingers lightly ruffling your hair in an affectionate gesture. “You don’t deserve any of that. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re less than amazing, okay?”

His words broke something inside you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as the weight of years of judgment and loneliness came crashing down. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you afloat.

Sabo stiffened for a moment, clearly surprised, but then his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe. You’re not alone.”

You sobbed into his chest, his steady presence grounding you as his words washed over you. For the first time in your life, someone had seen you—not your scars, not your past, but you.

---

When you finally pulled away, you wiped your eyes, feeling lighter yet raw. Sabo gave you a small smile, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You nodded, though your voice was still shaky. “Thank you… for everything.”

He grinned, a hint of his usual playfulness returning. “Anytime. Someone’s gotta look out for you.”

A question lingered in your mind, and you found the courage to ask it. “Sabo… why do you always buy daffodils?”

He blinked, caught off guard, before a soft chuckle escaped him. “Daffodils are a symbol of good luck,” he said. “I like to keep a little luck with me wherever I go.”

His gaze met yours, his smile turning slightly mischievous. “But, you know, I’ve been starting to think it’s not the flowers that bring me luck. It might just be the person selling them.”

Your cheeks flushed, and Sabo laughed, a light, carefree sound that made the heaviness in your chest dissolve.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing to your stall. “Let’s fix this up. You’ve got a business to run, and I’ve got more flowers to buy.”

As the two of you worked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel, for the first time, that maybe, just maybe, the future didn’t have to be so lonely.

Law

The Polar Tang was quiet save for the hum of the engines. The usual raucous energy of the Heart Pirates had settled into an uncharacteristic stillness, a quiet born from the long day of storms both inside and out. You sat in the ship’s medbay, fidgeting with a roll of gauze in your hands, your mind wandering to the events that had left you here.

The mission had been dangerous—too dangerous, according to Law. He had explicitly warned you and the others to tread carefully. But in the heat of the moment, when you saw one of your crewmates in danger, you didn’t think. You rushed in, shielding them, ignoring the pain that came when debris struck your side. You pushed through the fight, brushing off the blood that seeped from your wound.

No one noticed your injury at first. You didn’t let them. Because that’s what you always did—gave everything you had to make sure everyone else was okay, while quietly swallowing your own pain.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off that you collapsed on the deck, the shocked gasps of your crewmates the last thing you remembered before waking up in the medbay.

---

“You’re an idiot.”

Law’s voice was sharp as he entered the room, his steps deliberate as he approached. He didn’t look at you at first, busying himself with medical supplies on the counter.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, your voice betraying your exhaustion.

He turned then, his gray eyes narrowing. “No, you’re not. You could’ve been seriously hurt—or worse. Do you think that’s fine?”

His tone was cutting, but beneath it, you heard something else. Worry.

“I was just trying to help,” you muttered, your gaze dropping to the gauze in your hands.

Law sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you were. But you can’t keep doing this—throwing yourself into danger like your life doesn’t matter.”

His words struck a nerve, and you looked away, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat.

---

“You don’t get it,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “If I don’t help, if I don’t give something to others, what’s the point? It’s not like anyone’s ever—”

You stopped yourself, biting your lip.

“Ever what?” Law’s voice was softer now, but it still carried weight.

You shook your head, unwilling to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”

Law was silent for a moment, then he stepped closer, his hands resting on the edge of the bed. “It does matter. You matter.”

The simplicity of his words made your chest ache. You glanced up at him, expecting to see irritation or pity, but his expression was unreadable.

“I don’t—” Your voice broke, and you quickly looked away again.

---

Before you could say more, you felt something unexpected—a hand on your head. Law’s hand. He gently rested it there, his touch firm but surprisingly gentle as his fingers lightly ruffled your hair.

“You don’t always have to be the one giving,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an unusual warmth. “Sometimes, it’s okay to let someone take care of you.”

The lump in your throat grew, and tears stung your eyes. You weren’t used to this—someone comforting you, showing you even a shred of affection. You had spent so long being the one who gave, the one who protected, that you had forgotten what it felt like to receive anything in return.

Tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them, and a soft sob escaped you. Law didn’t pull away, his hand still resting on your head, grounding you.

“Why…” Your voice cracked. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Law’s lips quirked into the faintest of smirks. “Because you’re part of my crew. And I don’t let my crew fall apart—not even the stubborn ones.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that made your tears flow even harder. Without thinking, you leaned forward, burying your face in his chest as your emotions overwhelmed you.

---

He stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t push you away. Instead, his hand moved from your head to your back, giving you an awkward but comforting pat.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” he asked, his tone dry but not unkind.

You laughed through your tears, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “What gave it away?”

Law sighed, shaking his head. “You’re a mess,” he muttered, but there was a softness in his eyes that belied his words.

As the tension in the room eased, you found yourself smiling through your tears. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied, standing and grabbing a nearby clipboard. “I still have to lecture you about following orders and not getting yourself killed.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “Maybe I should’ve just stayed unconscious.”

Law smirked, his usual stoicism giving way to a rare moment of humor. “Don’t tempt me to use Room to keep you in check next time.”

Despite everything, you laughed, the sound light and genuine. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone.

[strangedesired]

I’ve seen a lot of posts about how much the kids like to be with Bruce and Batman because he makes them feel safe (being carried by him, tucked under his cape, etc,,)

But what about the hc that it is actually for Bruce instead. Like they just know how much he needs those interactions so he can convince himself that they are alive and still with him, so they just let him do what he needs to do to convince himself that his babies are safe.

For example:

Jason doesn’t like to stay at the manor because of the tension and the trauma (obviously) but every once in a while he has to spend the night because he’s too tired to get home or his safe house has been compromised and he needs a day before he can figure something else out. On very rare occasions, though, Jason has a little too close of a call and he needs to “use the caves medbay” (he actually needs to make sure that his family is alive and he’s not in another twisted reality where he is ripped away from them without saying goodbye)

One of these nights Jason has just gotten into bed after his abdomen had been stitched and wrapped, when he hears the door shift open and extremely light footsteps walking towards the bed. He turns over, expecting to see Damian coming to tell him goodnight (and that he should not have been so foolish as to let himself be shot but they both know that means Jason scared him and he wants to make sure his brother is okay) but instead he sees Bruce, looking apprehensive but also so so relieved.

Jason: B? Whats wrong?

Bruce: Nothing, sorry to disturb you, I’ll let you rest.

But Bruce does not turn to leave, he stands at the foot of Jason’s bed and just,,, stares at him.

Jason is a little alarmed, but mostly just confused. This is the most he and Bruce have seen of each in weeks and he doesn’t know what Bruce wants. But then Bruce moves up the bed so he can smooth Jason’s hair back.

Bruce: I’m glad you’re okay, Jay.

Jason is pretty taken aback, and he briefly thinks about removing his hand and telling him to fuck off, but he can see in the weary way that Bruce is standing, with his shoulders hunched and his knees locked, the way he keeps checking over Jason and stalling on his chest to make sure he’s still breathing, that he needs Jason to accept this comfort that he is trying to offer. So, he leans into the hand a little bit and hums softly.

Jason: Me too, B.

Bruce’s shoulders drop just a little and he cards his fingers through Jason’s hair one time.

Bruce: Goodnight.

Bruce removes his hand and hesitates for a second before he turns around and walks toward the door. When he reaches it, Jason hears him whisper.

Bruce: I love you.

Jason feels a rush of warmth and wrestles for a second with what to say back, he can’t quite make himself tell Bruce that he loves him, even if it’s true, but the hand in his hair was nice and he wants Bruce to keep trying, despite his tendency to fight against it.

Jason: Night, Dad.

Jason turns back over and pretends not to hear Bruce suck in a sharp breath and softly exit his room.

And if Bruce has a couple of tear tracks on his face by the time he makes it back to his own bed, that’s no one’s business but his own.

[ghostgirl-22]

Vibrator!Anon you made me write this too for some reason lol. Not coherent but I figured I’d share it anyway. More random boys objectifying Art and him (and Patrick) losing his mind over it.

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Bimbofication

—-

The thing about Art that really drives Patrick crazy is how empty headed he gets when he’s horny. Generally Art is a very smart and competent person but when his dick is hard it’s like he goes brain dead. And suddenly he’s silly, dumb, sluttystupid.

Once Patrick made him wear a bra under his uniform during their state doubles final.

“Just a training bra since you’re starting to blossom into such a beautiful girl,” Patrick teased at breakfast. Art kicked him hard under the table scowling (which fair, but it wasn’t Patrick’s fault he was bad at bowling).

The match goes well until midway through the second set when Patrick basically becomes the only functioning player. And Art for some (obvious) reason ends up in lala land. They still win. The other team didn’t really stand a chance.

The whole match Patrick’s hard and it’s fueling him. He doesn’t slow down for one second immediately after the match, when he shoves himself into the bathroom stall and jerks it so hard and fast that he gets light headed as he comes.

And then there’s Art.

The other guys on their team tease him for losing the bet. They lift his shirt to see the bra. Tell him his tits look good. One of them even goes as far as to push Art up against the locker and pretend to kiss him. And maybe Patrick never should’ve blabbed about it to them. He’s only got his stupid big mouth to blame for why Art’s all flushed as they tease him. Flustered and dizzy and… horny. Patrick can read it all over him after countless nights in their dorm room “messing around.”

Art goes silly. Barely able to focus. It’s like he’s drunk. Dropping things. Can’t find his towel, can’t find his phone, cant figure out how to re-wrap his racket. “I think I wanna shower at home.” He says distractedly.

“You should be in the girls locker room,” one of their classmates teases and pinches his nipple even though he’s not wearing the bra any more. “Shuddup,” Art says, pushing him off. The guy just laughs and tries to grab the other one.

Patrick knows Art is steps away from touching himself, the real reason he needs to go back to the dorm. It’s lucky he wore briefs or everyone would see it the way Patrick can. That he can’t stand still, can’t sit still.

Patrick has to do everything for him. Pack up his rackets, and his clothes, and all his gear. Everything. While he sits there, dumb pretty, eyes glassy, fingering the lace bra and flirting with their teammates as they objectify him.

The only openly gay kid on the team smirks at Patrick after he gets away with calling Art pretty, fingers tangled in his hair and Arts following the touch.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s go Art,” he snaps, only mildly irritated at how fucking easy Art is right now.

“Yeah let’s go,” Art says, getting to his feet. Eyes dilated, not a coherent thought in his head.

“Pick up your bag,” Patrick says, slowly like he’s talking to a kindergartener.

“Oh,” Art laughs.

Hell Patrick even has to guide Art back to the room because Art has no idea where he is or what’s going on.

It’s not until he’s fucking into Patricks fist up against their bedroom door that he feels like a real boy again. Whining and rambling that he’s so sorry about how he played but it’s all Patricks fault for making him wear lace. Because he couldn’t focus because of the way it moved over his nipples. And he didn’t know they were so sensitive. And honestly, neither did Patrick.

So Patrick starts licking, teasing, abusing them just to be rewarded with the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard Art or anyone make.

And Art finishes sloppy in Patrick’s hand, on the floor on Patrick’s t-shirt. Desperate and panting. Mirroring what Patrick did in the bathroom stall right after the game.

“You really do have the prettiest tits,” Patrick teases, licking his fingers.

“‘m not doing that again,” Art says, much more lucid.

Patrick smirks. “Then next time I guess you better win.”

[mamawasatesttube]

as per the poll results, i wrote around 2k of timkon autumnal indulgence today 🌾🍂🥧

The midmorning wind is brisk, and Tim is glad for the scarf he stole from Kon’s wardrobe earlier. It’s cozy and warm, and it smells like him, and every now and then, when Kon’s busy charming a customer,  Tim buries his nose in it just to indulge. Gertrude catches him pressing the end to his cheek once and titters again, and he looks away quickly under the guise of restocking the pickles on the end of the table.

Pretending to be Kon’s boyfriend for the morning shift at a farmer’s market isn’t the worst thing—it’s not like it’s a date, where Kon’s attention would be on him the whole time, and he’d be overthinking every brush of their fingers. It’s easy to fall into step working by Kon’s side, just like on the battlefield; he handles the cash and the logbook, helps Kon keep the tables fully stocked and neatly arranged, and refills the stand of business cards when they run low.

Kon handles most of the talking—he’s the one who can answer questions about the fruits, veggies, eggs, and the farm in general, and the regulars who swing by all already know him. Tim mostly gets to just smile and wave, nibbling on some carrot sticks between refills from the enormous Thermos of apple cider Kon made for them this morning.

It’s surprisingly peaceful, overall. Sure, it’s fast-paced work, especially when bigger groups come through, and it’s not boring, but Tim finds himself taken aback by how serene it is to stand here in the parking lot of the Smallville Community Center, listening to Kon ramble about chickens (“Hennifer and Leon S. Hennedy got into a fight over some squash pieces the other day, and when I went in to break it up, they both unionized to bite me! Can you believe, the audacity of it all!”).

Penny catches his eye from her camp chair, tipping her styrofoam cup of coffee at him with a knowing glint in her eye. “Honeymoon phase, eh?” she chuckles. “When you can’t stop looking at him and swooning. Everything he does makes you melt, am I right?”

“What?!” Tim is not—he’s not swooning. Or melting, or—or anything of that sort! He’s just standing here. Normally. Suavely, even. “That’s not—I’m not doing that!”

Penny laughs at him, actually slapping her knee as if that’s the funniest thing she’s heard all week. “Sure you’re not, sonny. Oh, you have it bad for Conner. I can’t believe he didn’t bring you ‘round sooner!”

Yeah, well, he only asked Tim to be his fake boyfriend last night, so big surprise there. Tim gulps down the last of his cider as the memory replays in his head for the millionth time.

Right before bed, as they were settling down for the night, Kon plopped down next to him, looking oddly uncertain. He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, Tim remembers; it stood out at the time, too, because that’s something Kon always does when he gets antsy.

“Hey, Rob,” he said, cheeks pink. “So y’know how there’s the farmer’s market tomorrow? Well, the stall next to ours is run by these two ladies—Gertrude and Penny, they’re super nice, but—well, they keep trying to set me up with Penny’s grandson, and I—man, it’s getting awkward! And, I mean… you’re, you know… you’re my—you’re you, like…”

He trailed off, then, ducking his head, and then reached over and grabbed Tim’s hand. Tim blinked at him, scooting closer, and sleepily lay his head on Kon’s shoulder, and Kon relaxed again at his side.

“So, whaddya say we call tomorrow a date?” Kon’s laughter was nervous, but sweet. “I know, a farmer’s market stall isn’t, like, the most exciting date spot, but we’re in Smallville, so I dunno how high you can set your expectations for that kinda thing, anyway, and hey, it’d get Gertrude and Penny off my back by Bingo next Sunday, so…?”

And Tim’s heart did some weird, flip-floppy, delighted-but-dismayed maneuvers in his chest, because Kon was asking him on a date just to get some old ladies to stop pestering him about his love life. If only it was for real, because he wanted to date Tim, but… Tim will take what he can get, he supposes.

So he said yes, because of course he said yes—how can he ever say no to Kon, when Kon looks at him with those big, soft eyes all full of hope and warmth? Ugh. It’s no fair how cute Kon can be without even trying.

And now here Tim is.

Pining. At a farmer’s market.