#I have taken the good pain meds and I'm in the fuzzy world where nothing hurts

[neurodecadence]

Awoo. But in like deerful way

[fruitcoops]

Hi Eve

It's been a while since we've seen hattie... do you think you'll bring her back? I'd love to read some soft Coops and Hattie fluff.

Or maybe angst and fluff?

Sure! I'm always down to write my girl :)) SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Hattie is mine!

TW for panic attack

It started almost as soon as Sirius put his keys on the countertop. He stopped in his tracks as a chill crawled up his spine and a nauseating stone fell heavy in his gut. They were bored.

The logical shreds of his thought process reminded him that no, James and Kasey were actually involved in the conversation, but—no. His palms were too hot on the cool marble counter. You always talk too much. Nobody can understand you.

The second you left, they actually started having a good time.

“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth as his vision began to tunnel, bracing himself on the kitchen island so he didn’t wobble and fall. He had taken his meds. He hadn’t dredged up anything particularly new or painful with Heather that week. He had done everything just right, and yet he could still feel the thick pressure in his throat building building building—

Sirius eased himself to the floor without opening his eyes; the lights were too bright for his pounding head and he knew that if he moved too fast, the nausea would only get worse. His chest was constricted to the point where he could hear his own lungs catching. Every inch of skin revolted against the fabric of his clothes.

“James invited me,” he said aloud, resting his forehead on the cabinet door. “He wanted me there.”

But Kasey didn’t.

Sirius took a shuddering breath in through his nose. “They both wanted me there,” he corrected, voice breaking. “And Kasey asked the question in the first place and I didn’t talk for that long—”

Any time is too long. You never make sense to anyone but yourself.

“—and they kept talking to me even after I was done.” Wet warmth trickled down his cheeks and he gripped the cabinet handle even tighter. Any anchor would do before his whole body floated away. The sheer size of the house he was in hit him like a truck; it was empty and lonely and cold. He hadn’t separated himself from the environment he was raised in one little bit.

It didn’t matter what James or Kasey thought, he realized as the ringing in his ears drowned everything else out and he leaned heavily on the wall for extra support. His mother’s words were cemented in his brain and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He deserved it, didn’t he? The second he accepted the spot as captain, every single one of his friends stopped caring about him. He became the cranky tyrant his parents had always wanted him to be. There was no hope to get back into their loyalty or their good graces. You brought this on yourself, he bit out in his head. It’s all your fault.

“No,” Sirius murmured, thudding his forehead against the cabinet. “No, no, no, no, no, I’m sorry.”

It felt like the world was crumbling around him. He had the sudden, terrible understanding that he was going to die right there on the kitchen floor with his lungs folding in on themselves and his stomach hurting and his head pounding and—

Something cold and wet prodded his arm. Sirius’ muscles were made of stone; he couldn’t even flinch at the strange new feeling as tremors rocked through his body. There was a soft whine and another poke, then the creature began snuffling his ear with far more intensity than he was prepared for. Confusion started to leak in around the edges of the banshee-cries in his head.

After one extended sniff by the hinge of his jaw, the fuzzy thing smacked him on the thigh with a more insistent noise of distress, and Sirius managed to release his shoulder joint enough to make room for it to worm its merry way right into his lap.

He stared at it. Large silver eyes stared back. “Hullo,” he managed thickly. It huffed, licked a truly incredible stripe of slobber from his chin to his eye, then rested its nose on his shoulder with a long sigh.

And to Sirius’ astonishment, the shakiness in his abdomen eased. His mother’s voice quieted by a degree; the feeling returned to his toes in pins and needles once he began to match his breaths to the steady rise and fall against his chest.

His fingers creaked as he peeled them off the cabinet handle, but he managed to find his way to the soft black fur making itself at home in the hollow between his body and the wood. Gentle, he reminded himself on instinct. Gentle scratches just by her belly, then up to her shoulder blades.

Sure enough, Hattie gave a happy little wiggle in response. Her pointed ear tickled the side of his face as he leaned into her. Sirius’ heart rate calmed.

“Mon chou,” he mumbled once his voice decided to work again, wrapping his other arm around her in a loose hug. She pulled back to nose around his face and lick at the tearstains streaking his face until an inexplicable laugh bubbled out of him—her tail thumped on the ground and she pawed at his chest. Sirius’ bit his lip and buried his face in the thick ruff at her neck, holding her closer than she usually enjoyed but enough to feel the weight of her across his whole front while the dregs of his anxiety ran their course.

Hattie stayed perfectly still until the sobbing subsided and the shaky hand combing through the fur of her back flattened. Her light rumbles took the place of every screeching thought in Sirius’ mind.

“Good girl,” he finally said, wiping the tears away on his shoulder so he could give her some ear scratchies at the same time. “Good girl, Hat Trick. Mon petit chou. Je t’aime. Merde, you’re such a good dog.”

Her tail continued to wag, but she just watched him with that same easy gaze.

“You can get up, if you want.”

Hattie yawned so wide she squeaked.

“I’m okay now.”

A car backfired outside and one ear pricked toward it. She didn’t so much as twitch from her spot in his lap.

Sirius closed his eyes again with a slow breath and wove his fingers through her dense undercoat, focusing on each silky strand. He still felt a bit sick and the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that told him James and Kasey didn’t really want him at lunch kept on pinching him, but it didn’t hurt as much. He was more tired than anything else. Something about Hattie’s soft fur under his fingers and her familiar weight on his shoulder eased the shrieking panic running riot through his veins and made something that usually had him on the floor for an hour almost…bearable.

“You’re my best girl, huh?” he asked her once he trusted his voice. “You know what best girls get? Treats.”

That got her attention. She let him up with little fuss, her nails tip-tapping in excitement on the floor as he steadied himself and padded over to the pantry. His muscles were weak and he was sweaty all over—she didn’t seem to care a bit as he took the treat bag out, grabbed a handful, and sat right back down to feed them to her one by one.

“Can you sit for me?” Hattie’s body was tense with barely-contained anticipation as she laser-focused on the last cookie and slowly settled her rear on the floor. “Good girl!”

Sirius didn’t even open his hand all the way before she launched herself back into his lap to claim her prize, coating his palm in a layer of slobber before planting herself in the cross of his legs as if she owned the place.

“That was a little much,” he informed her. “But you get a pass because you’re a very sweet puppy.”

Hattie pawed at him for a moment before squirming around to splay across his thighs in a dead-weight blanket, nestling her head in the crook of his knee with a grumble. Sirius paused as tears pricked his eyes again; the house was big, yes, but not empty anymore. Pictures lined the walls. The junk drawer was practically overflowing with trinkets that belonged to everyone he loved. And he had a dog, his dog, that would lay in his lap and never let him spiral into himself again.

Sirius leaned his head back against the kitchen island and closed his eyes, still running his hand in long lines across Hattie’s side as she dozed. A nap didn’t sound like such a bad idea, after all.

[sequinsmile-x]

hi!! congrats on 300!! can i request angst prompt: “I don't need help. I need an end to this pain." thank you<3

Thank you so much <3

-x-

Words: 770 (at this point if it's below 1000 words i'm calling it a win)

Content warnings: *miscarriage/pregnancy loss* - this is the theme of the entire drabble, so please heed the warning if you need to

The house has never seemed so quiet, the clicking of the front door shut almost so loud it’s deafening, echoing throughout the silence of their home.

It had only been 10 hours since they were last here, Emily waking him in the middle of the night, one hand clutching her stomach and the other holding his arm in a death grip.

“Something’s wrong.”

He drove her to the hospital, asked Jessica to rush over to look after Jack, to take him to school in the morning.

Their worst fears were confirmed by a kind doctor in the ER, and Aaron watches his wife break in front of him, sobbing as the doctor explains the next steps. Their world changed again only a few days after it had been changed by two small lines on a stick.

Aaron can’t take his eyes off her, watching as she walks slowly towards the stairs, clearly in as much pain as she had been for hours. Her movements slow and sluggish, none of her usual grace to be found.

“Let me help you up the stairs.” He says, reaching for her, stepping back when she shrugs him off immediately. The silence she had lived in since she was discharged snapping, her voice coming out ragged.

“I don't need help. I need an end to this pain.” She blows out a breath, shakes her head as if it will stop the tears that have already fallen. “It hurts. I am in pain.”

Aaron has to clench his teeth to stop himself from falling apart right there, as if the tension in his jaw was the only thing keeping him upright. She’s not just talking about the physical pain she’s in, he knows that, but that was the part he could help with right now.

“You go upstairs,” he says gently, “I’ll go get some water for your meds. Maybe warm up your heating pad?”

“Sounds good.” Emily wipes her face with the heels of her hands, the tears immediately replaced with fresh ones. She turns and walks up the stairs in silence. The distance to their bedroom had never felt so long.

She settles into bed, time moving around her like it wasn’t real. Like she was in a glass box, everything around her was fuzzy, slightly off. Aaron enters the room a few minutes later, a glass of water in one hand, the prescription she had been given at the hospital in the other, her heating pad tucked under his arm.

“Here you go.” He says, passing them to her, clearing his throat as he watches her take the pills. “I can stay if you want,” he offers, as lost as she’d ever heard him, “or I can go. There’s always paperwork.”

She smiles, the first one since before this had all started. It shakes, is twinned with the tears that still shine in her eyes, but it’s there. And it makes the tiniest bit of hope plant seeds in his chest.

“Aaron,” she breathes out, “I always want you to stay.”

He doesn’t need telling twice, climbing in next to her and gently pulls her into his arms. She thinks it might be the most gentle he had ever been. She curls into him, burying her face into his neck as he places the heating pad on her stomach, the seemingly ever present pain not dissipating.

For a moment, a fleeting moment, she’s taken back to a cold room in Italy, when she was 15 and alone, the same pain leaving her breathless. Then she remembers where she is, and as quickly as that thought arrived she pushes it away. Let’s herself remember that she’s lying with the man she loves, her husband, in the bed they share in the house they own together. It didn’t make it hurt less, physically or otherwise, but it made it a tiny bit easier to take.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, the words catching in her chest.

“Oh sweetheart,” he replies, kissing the top of her head fiercely, pulling her impossibly closer, “you have nothing to apologise for.” He buries his hand into her hair. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

She nods against him, because there is no other response she can come up with, and lets him hold her together, pull her back into one piece until she can do it herself. She feels something damp against the top of her head, only realising a few seconds later that he had his face buried in her hair, his tears falling onto her scalp.

“I really wanted the baby, Aaron.”

“I know, love. Me too.” -x-

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