#and eventually he falls asleep next to her on her hospital bed

[piracytheorist]

someone: how angsty do you want your identity reveal scenario to be?

me: so what if right after Anya's powers are revealed Twilight asks her why she tricked him into adopting her, if she was put into it by someone else in order to expose him, and Anya tries to tell him she wanted to help and he asks why would you want to help me and she's like "because you want a peaceful world where children don't cry" and he nearly has a flashback triggered by that and she runs and hugs his legs saying she wants to help and be good and Twilight just. Pushes her away. Gently and without physically hurting her but emotionally it's a massacre. And he sees her devastated face because of his rejection and realizes he has now caused her the pain he never wanted to see on another child's face, and he thanks whatever lucky stars he doesn't deserve that Yor is there because he cannot process anything else and just leaves out the door, leaving Anya to bawl in Yor's arms :)

[penkura]

OP Men Holding Their Firstborn for the First Time

Note: This is in relation to my post of headcanons for these five men and their children. I just started thinking of which ones of them will cry, who will freak out over holding a tiny baby, who may reject the thought at first. And it came to this lol. I think the next one in this series will be names for the kids or babies taking their first steps! The baby fever is strong help. For now, please enjoy these men being soft about their offspring!

Ace almost has a heart attack when you try to pass your daughter to him, he swears he felt his heart jump into his throat when you ask if he wants to hold her, saying no that he's fine for now, but you insist he should. He doesn't do so for several hours, instead watching you with her as he works up the courage to have her in his arms.

What if my powers activate and I burn her? What if she cries and kicks? Oh lord, what I drop her??

"Ace, please. You need to hold her."

The look on your face, like you're begging him to hold her, finally makes Ace agree, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed to take your hours old daughter from you. You remind him to be careful of her head, make sure to support her, and smile when you finally get to see the two loves of your life together at last.

She doesn't fuss or cry or kick, instead staying fast asleep and seeming like she's snuggling into the warmth Ace radiates thanks to his Devil Fruit powers. He's just amazed by her, her tiny little nose and the beautiful, dark eyelashes that brush her chubby little cheeks. She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen after you of course.

Ace fights not to cry but can't help the few tears that sneak out, wiping them away on his sleeve quickly, the one time he wears a shirt and it's the day you give birth to the newest love of his life.

Gosh, he always knew you were amazing. Now you've given him a family of his own, how could he ever repay you?

"Thank you for her...she's so perfect."

Ace can't seem to tear his eyes away from your daughter's little face, and that's okay with you. She's his baby too, he needs to have some time with her.

"What do you think we should name her, Ace?"

Oh. Oh crap, she does need a name huh?

~~

Law doesn't even have a chance to think about it, he's holding your son immediately after birth since he was the one to help you deliver obviously. Once your baby boy is wrapped in a towel Law hands him right to you before checking to make sure you're doing all right. Your vitals are all normal and stable, he's relived that you're both fine, while he watches you talk to your crying newborn.

You tell him that it doesn't count that he held your son right away since he's your and the boy's doctor, eventually getting Law to sit down and actually hold him as his father instead. Your son kept fussing and crying until Law finally got to hold him, the newborn quieting after a few moments but keeping his eyes shut tight and his little hands in fists as he kept whining.

Once he finally opens his eyes to stare up at Law, it's probably the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life apart from Bepo.

Especially once you catch sight of a few tears in Law’s eyes, making you smile softly as you lean back to just watch them. He's quick to rub at his eyes and make them stop, but the few sniffles you hear every bit tell you he's trying to stop himself from looking like a bigger baby than your literal baby he's holding.

He's never actually held a baby so tiny, not since Lammy was born. And to know this is his son, it's crazy to think about while he watches your baby boy start to fall asleep.

He really does wish his parents, sister, and Cora-san were there. They'd all love to meet your son, and you know he's thinking that, but you hope realizes that all the Heart Pirates are going to love your little boy just as much as his family would have.

And that eases the sting a bit, especially when they all do get to meet your son, and not a single one of them is without tears, beyond happy for you and their beloved captain.

~~

Penguin almost begs to hold your daughter once she's born and you're both stable. Law tries to push him away while he takes your daughter's vitals and measurements, asking how on earth you dealt with Penguin being so clingy the last nine months, which just makes you laugh.

"Go sit with your wife, damn it, I'll bring her over in a minute."

"But, captain--"

"Penguin, just come over here for now."

Penguin sits beside your bed and pouts until Law finally brings your daughter over, about to hand her to you before you direct him to your husband. Both ask if you're absolutely sure you want Penguin to hold her first, until you confirm it, and Law hands your daughter to her father, showing him the right away to hold her, before he leaves the three of you alone for a few minutes.

Penguin is absolutely enthralled with her. She's still fussy from being born, stretching out her little arms and legs, making cute little sounds, and he just can't believe she's finally here. He feels like you two waited an eternity for her to be born, now she has been! She's so small, she fits perfectly in his arms and it makes him want to cry so much.

"She's so tiny."

"And she looks just like you, Peng."

~~

Due to you having twins, you hold your son while Sanji holds your daughter, blubbering like the baby girl was because he's just so happy to have these babies with you. It makes you want to laugh hearing him cry, watching him kiss your daughter's forehead to try and calm her down while he dotes on her and you give your son attention.

"You're an angel, a perfect little gift from heaven!"

When you finally swap which baby you're each holding, Sanji still cries, happy to have a son too! He never really thought you'd have twins, or that they'd be fraternal on top of it! Both are so precious to him, you're precious to him, this little family you've now built together.

Your daughter has his hair, but your son looks just like you to Sanji. He kisses your son's forehead before looking at you and your newborn daughter, still unable to believe this is going to be his life from now on. You, and him, and your two tiny blessings.

"I love you so, so much."

He can't wait to call Zeff and let him know the good news.

~~

Zoro has no worries or qualms or tears when holding your son for the first time. Actually, it doesn't hit him for a few hours that he has a child now.

Your son is so quiet most of his first day outside the womb, sleeping and eating, only fussing when he needs something, but you're able to calm him down quickly. The way you're able to do that when this is your first baby impresses Zoro more than anything today.

It's only once you're asleep and he's holding your son again that it really gets to him. There's another person depending on him now, this one being his own flesh and blood, his newborn son that already looks just like him. His hands are so tiny, he's not even able to fully get his little fingers around one of Zoro's fingers.

Chopper made sure you both were left alone for the day, Zoro taking a bed next to yours and laying back with your son on his chest that night. That's when he realized just how small your baby is. His hand covered the newborn's back completely, his tiny hand fisting Zoro's shirt as he slept, small coos and whines coming from him every now and then. Zoro looks at you for a moment, before back to your son with a smile.

Your son may not have been planned, but Zoro's more than accepting of how his life is turning out.

~~

Note 2: I am absolutely willing to elaborate on these men and their children. If anyone wants to see something specific, just send me a message! I'll be posting more of my own thoughts too!

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Ten - Oh Dang She Crashed

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.2K

SHE'S NOT PREGNANT FYI

Series Masterlist

While Lando and Y/N laid together, with Y/N falling asleep on his shoulder, Max Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo were out for drinks. It was just something casual, something to do together because they didn't see each other all that often now that they weren't teammates.

But they were still the best of friends, and they still hung around together. Daniel took Max out for a couple of drinks, no more than a couple of drinks (since they had to race the next day).

Now Max was good at keeping secrets, but he had to get it off his chest, had to tell someone. If that person decided to tell the rest of the grid? Well, that wasn't on him, was it?

Max pulled his chair closer to the table as the waitress placed the gin and tonic in front of him. Daniel received his own drink and Max couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Guess what I walked in on," he said, his leg bouncing. He was far too excited for this.

Daniel looked at him as he sipped his drink, eyebrows raised as he waited for him to continue. "After last weeks race, after Y/N won, I asked her if she wanted to come out for drinks, but she said she was busy. So I asked Lando and he was down. I went to get him from his drivers room and what did I walk in on?"

He paused, waiting for Daniels brain to catch up. Daniel's eyes went wide. "No," he gasped and sipped his drink again. "No way! Lando and Y/N? Seriously?"

"Seriously!" Max insisted, using his straw to stir his drink.

"Is... is that allowed? Are we allowed to fuck our teammates?" Daniel asked, leaning back in his chair.

Max shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know if it's ever actually happened before, since, you know."

"Surely there are some rules around this."

Again, Max shrugged his shoulders. If they were he hadn't read it anywhere. "Don't tell them I told you," he said and Daniel nodded his head.

***

Y/N woke up, her own head moving with the gentle rise and fall of Lando's chest. She pushed away from him and stretched her arms up. She didn't feel as sick as she had the day before, but she still felt pretty rough.

Checking the time on her phone, Y/N shook Lando's shoulder. "Lan, get up," she whispered, continuing to shake him.

Lando's eyes fluttered open. He didn't get up from the bed, just turned his head towards Y/N, watching as she stripped to get into the shower.

He pushed himself up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door and pushed it open. "I'm gonna head to my room," he said, talking just loud enough to speak over the noise of the shower. "Are you okay to get to the circuit on your own?"

Y/N shouted a response back, something Lando had to get her to repeat, before he left her hotel room to head back to his own. He got himself ready to head to the circuit, changing into a new McLaren shirt, a new LN4 hat and a clean pair of jeans. Still, though, he worried about Y/N.

If she was that sick, which he knew her to be, he didn't want her racing. He wasn't going to stop her, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. If she wanted to race, she was going to do just that.

When he was ready, Lando made his way to the circuit. He signed posters and caps and made his way to the hospitality unit. Y/N met him there just minutes later, still looking as sick as ever. Where she had woken up feeling slightly better, she was once again feeling terrible.

She drank water through the day, and was never very far away from Lando, unless somebody needed her. It wasn't that she followed Lando around like a lost puppy, but more like he refused to leave her side. She looked ready to drop to the floor at any moment and Lando wanted to be there to catch her.

Eventually, though, she was called away by her trainer. He took one look at her and sent her to lay down in a dark room until the start of the race.

Half an hour before the race started, she was woken up. Y/N went to her drivers room and got changed into her fireproofs and race suit. Fuck, she wasn't ready for this, but she had to do it. Had to do it for the team.

She lined up on the grid, her teammate just in front of her. Y/N almost bottled it on the formation lap, but she held it together and brought the car into its square on the grid. The commentators were definitely talking about her mess of a formation lap, but she couldn't think about that now; she had a job to do.

The lights went out and Y/N got a good getaway. But it didn't stay good. Suddenly her vision was going blurry and she was almost throwing up in her helmet. But she tried to hold it together.

Lando passed her, and then several other cars did. She didn't care, too busy trying to breathe.

Y/N got eleven laps into the grand prix before her black spots appeared in her vision and she lost control of her car, spinning towards the barriers. Y/N didn't shout, she didn't scream as her car hit the barriers and span away. The left side of her car was wrecked from the impact, but it had stopped moving.

She wasn't responding.

"Red flags at turn eight," Will Joseph said to Lando.

"Is everything okay?" Lando asked as he slowed his car right down, following the other cars into the pitlane. The only car he couldn't see was the other McLaren.

Medics rushed over to her. They pulled Y/N out of the car and checked her pulse on her wrist. They kept her helmet on as they got her onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.

"Where's Y/N?" Lando asked as he climbed out of the car. He didn't know what was happening with the race, didn't know that she was the reason for the red flags.

"She's on her way to the hospital," said Andrea.

Of course, nobody at McLaren quite knew the relationship Lando had with Y/N. They didn't know that his heart was pounding too loudly for him to hear anything else. Shit, he couldn't go back into the race, not until he knew she was okay.

But the car was cleared from the track and the race was restarting. Lando had to get on with his job, he knew. He could check on her later. Plus, he knew Y/N would have been pissed if she knew he stopped racing for her. "Keep me updated on her, please," he said before he climbed back into the car.

He was going to race, and he was going to do it for her.

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[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (5)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.4K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, eventual smut

Notes: The response for this continues to blow me away. Thank you all so much! Hearing your thoughts about these two makes me so happy and is so encouraging to write a little bit faster. Please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

Buckle in, folks!

-----

He spends that first night tossing and turning, fighting to find sleep. It’s hard for him to be down the hall, knowing you were so close, yet so far out of his reach. In only a few days, he had gotten used to falling asleep and waking up with you in the chair beside his bed. The next morning, you somehow look more tired now than you had the whole time he was in the hospital, and he was sure that he was the same. 

Being here was different than he anticipated. Part of him expected to walk into this house and have every memory he’d lost rush back to him in technicolor. He was disappointed when that didn’t happen, and he thinks that even if you won’t say it, you are, too. 

He didn’t remember anything, but his instincts were there. He knew which drawer held the utensils and which cabinet housed plates and bowls and which one had coffee cups. He knew where the two of you kept Florry’s food and that her treats were kept in one of the drawers in the coffee table. It was muscle memory, he supposed. 

But his brain tickled sometimes, like it wanted to remember something but couldn’t. He often felt that frustrating sensation of something being right there on the tip of his tongue, but he’s unable to produce exactly what it is. 

He dreams every night. His subconscious creates scenes of flying and crashing ocean waves, of snow covered streets and twinkle lights. He swears your laughter echoes in his ears when he rouses to consciousness. 

He doesn’t know if they’re memories, or if they’re figments brought on by the yearning he feels toward you the longer he’s around you. Either way, they’re never quite clear enough for him to even ask you about them. But he sneaks into your office one night and swipes a pen and a pad of sticky notes and takes to writing down all the details he can recall when he wakes up. 

Over the first few days of being home, the two of you get into a tentative routine. You somehow wake before he does, and there’s coffee waiting for him when he makes his way downstairs. You’re not much of a breakfast person, but you make him eggs and bacon and toast or whatever he’s in the mood for, even if he insists you don’t have to. You take him to his follow up appointments or evaluations, which takes up his time until the early afternoon. The two of you have taken to grabbing lunch while you’re out everyday, before going back to the home you share and making yourselves busy until dinner.

He finds himself wanting to touch you more. There were no more forehead kisses, but his knee will knock against yours sometimes when the two of you are eating. He always holds the door open for you whenever you two are out, and sometimes you’ll brush against him just so when you’re passing by. When the two of you are walking somewhere, his fingers twitch to hold onto yours. He’s taken to placing his hand near your lower back, not quite touching you, but close enough where he can feel your body heat. 

You like to curl up in the corner of your sectional couch, and he feels like you’re a million miles away when he sits on the other end. 

Getting to know you again is a whirlwind of feelings he doesn’t understand. You’re kind, and beautiful, and you make him laugh. He has near constant butterflies in his stomach whenever you’re around. 

He knows himself well enough to know that he’s developed feelings for you, and the concept makes his head hurt, knowing this isn’t the first time but not remembering it. He doesn’t mention it to you, because he doesn’t know if it would make things better or worse. 

He wants to ask you questions about the two of you, too. You told him how you met, but he wants to know what your first date was like. He wants to know who said I love you first, though he thinks it was him. He wants to know how he proposed after only 4 months of knowing you and he wants to know why you said yes. 

He wants to know everything, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Part of him is scared of the answers.

He’s seen the way you look at him, sometimes. Like it breaks your heart for him to be there with you, even though he knows how relieved you are for him to be. You don’t say anything to him, but he knows that you’re struggling. You do your best to always keep a smile on your face around him, but it’s your eyes that give you away, combined with this deep instinct he seems to have when it comes to you and your emotions.

After dinner every night, you’ve been finding yourselves sitting out on the back porch. The weather has been getting cooler and watching the sun go down with you has become his favorite part of being home. You avoid anything too heavy, too intimate, but you regale him with different tales from the last few years with your friends and your individual careers, or of you before you knew him, but the light in your eye is dim whenever you finish a tale and there’s no recognition in his. 

He’s worried about you, but he doesn’t know if he has the right to tell you that. There’s something of a tension building in the air, and he can’t figure out how to cut through it just yet.  

But he enjoys getting to know you again, and he hangs onto your every word. He loves every single moment the two of you have together and craves more of them. Even the most mundane of things, like when he went with you to the grocery store of all places. Phoenix had loaded their kitchen with essentials, but there was a specific recipe you were wanting to make that you swore he would love but that you needed a few things for. You looked surprised when he had asked if he could go with you, but pleased at the same time. 

He pushed the cart as you checked things off your list and god, he loved watching you. You were looking up and down the aisle you were standing in, seemingly a little puzzled, and he was completely enraptured. 

“I can never remember where the dates are,” you muttered, and he thinks it might have been only to yourself, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. 

“On a calendar?” 

You shot him a look, looking incredulous but amused, and smacked him lightly on the arm with the list you were carrying. The touch sent a shot of electricity through him and he laughed, feeling warm. “Ow.” 

“Okay, you comedian,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “I was going to make you dessert, but maybe I won’t now,” 

“No, come on,” he laughed, pushing the cart forward, nodding his head to the side, “They’re in the next aisle over,” 

You stop walking, and after a second, Bradley does too, realizing what he just said. He turns to you and you’re looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He thinks he might see a little bit of pride in them, too. And it’s so silly, getting choked up by instinctively remembering where something is in a grocery store he can never remember being in, but he feels a lump in his throat anyway. He coughs, trying to dislodge the emotion. You don’t say a word, maybe sensing the moment that he’s having, but you squeeze his arm when you pass by him on your way to the aisle he indicated. After a moment, he follows behind you. 

He thinks he would follow you anywhere. 

————

It’s a Friday and he's been home for eight days now. He has a headache when he wakes up that morning, and he can’t remember anything notable from the previous night's dream to write down in his notebook. Part of him wants to go back to sleep and try again, but he pushes himself out of bed anyway. 

Like she had been the last few days, Florry is laying at the guest room door when he opens it. She looks up and meows at him, nuzzling into his hand when he squats down to scratch her head for a moment before she gets up and struts away. He snorts at her, amused at how as soon as she gets what she wants, she moves on to something else. 

He makes his way downstairs slowly, feeling like a drum is pounded right in his ear with every step. There’s a distinct spice in the air as he walks toward the kitchen, and it takes a few sniffs before he places it. 

“Pumpkin?” 

To his surprise, you gasp, and the knife you were holding slips from your grasp and clatters to the granite countertop. You jumped back from it, but your wide eyes were looking straight at him. 

“What did you just call me?”

“What?” 

“You said - you called me Pumpkin.” 

This was one of those significant moments that he was missing. Bradley suddenly felt incredibly awkward, and a little ashamed. A flush crept up his neck to warm his cheeks in the worst way. 

“I uh - I was talking about the smell.”

Watching your face fall cuts him worse than the knife you had been holding ever could. For a brief moment, he saw raw devastation completely overcome you. He starts to say your name, but you cut him off before he can.

“I’m making pumpkin banana pancakes,” you tell him after a moment. You pick the knife back up to continue cutting up the fruit you had on the cutting board. He wants to ask you what had just happened, but bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. He’s frustrated that he can’t remember, and the hurt in your eyes was making his head pound harder. He hates that he’s putting you through this. 

The two of you eat breakfast together, but it’s quieter than it normally is. The air was awkward, tense, and it seemed that neither one of you really knew what to say. 

The day had only gotten worse from there. He was late for his doctor's appointment because the two of you had gotten stuck in traffic, and there was little he hated more in life than being late. His headache had only gotten worse, and he hadn’t been cleared to drive or go back to any sort of desk duty yet. To top it all off, the two of you had run into someone you knew during a near silent lunch and he had to awkwardly push himself through the conversation while pretending he did, too ashamed to actually say he had no idea who he was. 

By the time you returned back home, he was in a sour mood, and he really wanted to go back to bed. 

“Do you need anything?” you asked softly, hovering between the kitchen and living room as he settled himself on the couch unceremoniously. 

“No,” he said shortly, pulling a blanket over him. 

You sigh, and he’s irritated with himself for making you feel bad, too. 

“I’m going to go up to my office for a bit then, okay?” he doesn’t respond. When you sigh, he’s irritated with himself even more for making you feel bad, too. “You can come up and get me if you need anything.” 

Bradley tries to nap the afternoon away, but it’s more fitful than restful. He tosses and turns on the couch. Florry jumps on him at one point, waking him from one of his dozes. 

He closes his eyes, trying again to find some sort of sleep, but nothing comes for him. His mind was moving a little too quickly now, and the guilt was setting in. He had been short with you almost all day, and even if he was frustrated, you didn’t deserve that. You were frustrated too, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Sometimes he wishes you would.

Why the hell did this happen to him after everything else in his life?

His dad, and then his mom, and Mav pulling his papers. He still hasn’t brought himself to reach out to the man he had apparently reconciled with, but you’ve mentioned how he’s asked after him whenever the two of you speak, as had the rest of the crew. It’s frustrating, suddenly having all these people in his life who he views as family, only to have no recollection of who they are. Seeing himself in all of these pictures that are throughout the house constantly boggles his mind. He hates being so confused all the time. 

He hates that he can’t remember you, and that you spend all of your days trying to be strong for him. 

He groans, running a hand roughly over his face. After another 45 minutes of staring at the ceiling fan spin, he throws the blanket off of his legs and forces himself up. He couldn’t do much, but he could at least apologize. 

He drags himself up the stairs slowly, trying to figure out exactly what to say. The door to your office is pulled closed for the first time since he’s come home; he tries not to read into that as you wanting him to stay away. He goes to take a step closer and knock, but your voice through the door stops him. 

“The timing is awful, Jake.”

His eyebrows furrowed together. The only Jake he knew was Hangman, and he hasn’t wrapped his mind completely around the fact that he was apparently one of his best friends now. 

“Bringing a baby into this would make everything so much more complicated. He’s struggling enough as it is. You think suddenly becoming a father would make this all better? The test being negative is for the best.” 

He sucks in a breath, feeling like he just got suckerpunched right in the stomach. He braces himself against the hallway wall with one hand, unsure if he heard you correctly. 

“I’m okay,” you say, and he wishes he could hear both sides of the conversation. He feels like he’s going to pass out. “I promise.” 

There’s another pause, and you let out a small laugh, “I might take you up on that, J.” 

Bradley backs away from the door, his mind going a thousand miles a minute as he tries to process what just happened. 

A baby? You were talking about having a baby. You had mentioned a test. Had you taken it recently? Since he had been home? Why hadn’t you told him, if you had? Was this something that had happened before his accident and just another thing that he forgot? 

He’s your husband. He may not remember it, but he was. Didn’t he have a right to know? 

He stews for a while, and that’s his biggest mistake. He’s scared, and bizarrely disappointed, he’s hurt, but most of all he’s angry. He’s angry that you’re talking to other people about something so personal, but not him. And Hangman, of all people. It festers inside of him, and by the time you come back downstairs, he’s sizzling in it.

“How does chicken and asparagus sound for dinner?” You’re smiling as you walk into the room, but it drops when you see the look in his face. “Are you alright?”

“You thought you were pregnant?”

The color drains from your face, and he knows he has his answer. He stands up from the couch to face you, his thoughts jumbled together, fighting for dominance in his head. You had thought you were pregnant. And you didn’t tell him. 

“How did you know that?” 

“I overheard you on the phone with Hangman,” he practically spits the name, feeling his anger swell even more. “When did you take it?” 

“Bradley-” 

“When did you take the test?” 

You let out a long, shaky breath. You’re twisting your ring around your finger again, and your eyes are starting to glass up, but he forces himself not to focus on any of that. “Yesterday,” you admit softly, “I took it yesterday.” 

He groans, running a hand through his hair. You both had been in this house almost all day yesterday. He had been right here. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have been there with you!”

“Bradley-” 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that we’d been trying to have kids before I got hurt?” 

“Bradley, I really don’t think we should talk about this right now,” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible, but he was already way past that point. 

“Well I want to talk about it,” he snaps, “Why would you keep this from me?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you!” you say, your voice rising to meet his. “We aren’t trying for a baby, Bradley. It was a scare. That’s all.”

“But you still took a test! And you didn’t tell me!” 

“There was nothing to tell,” you try, but Bradley shakes his head as his anger reaches a boiling point. 

“Not to me, apparently. You told fucking Hangman about it, but not me? Aren’t I the one who is supposed to be your husband?”

“Yeah, Bradley. You are,” you finally snap, your voice raising for the first time, “But how the hell was I supposed to tell you when you don’t even remember who I am?” 

It was a low blow, but Bradley has never been one to back down.

“I’m trying!” he yells, and you startle back at just how loud he is, “I’m trying every single day. You think I don’t want to remember you? Someone I apparently almost had a kid with? Someone who I want to care for and protect even though I have no idea why? I know this sucks for you, but think about what I’m going through here.” 

“You think I’m not thinking about you?” you demand, shaking your head, “You’re all I’ve been thinking about, Bradley!” 

“Am I?,” he asks, and your mouth drops at the words, but he keeps going anyway even though every instinct in him is screaming at him to shut up. “I trust you without being able to remember you, but it’s hard to do that if you keep things from me. I have no idea what the fuck is going on the majority of the time and you’re the only one I have who will tell me things. Or don’t you want me to remember?” 

The words came out harsher than he anticipated. The look on your face made him wish that he could take them back. His anger dissipated as he saw the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally fall. 

Your name left his lips, but you cut him off before an apology could follow behind.

“Of course I do,” you choked out, a sob catching in your throat. It looks like there’s more you want to say, but after a moment, you just shake your head, your breathing labored. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

Those weren’t the words he expected. Alarm bells are ringing loudly in his head, demanding he fix what he’s done here. 

“What?”

“I need some air,” you explain, your voice cracking. His heart ached watching you gather your phone and keys. 

He speaks your name again, pleading and reaching out for you as you step toward the front door. To his surprise, you ripped your arm out of his grasp. “You don’t call me that,” you snapped. Bradley’s eyes widened. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” you promise. You don’t look at him as you grab a pair of shoes from the closet by the front door, slipping them on. You don’t slam the door when you leave, but the sound of it closing still echoes like gunfire to him. 

He sinks back onto the couch, his aching head in his hands, wondering what the hell he had just done.

————

An hour has passed and you still weren’t back yet. Bradley has taken to pacing back and forth through the living room, peeking out of the curtains by the front door. He shouldn’t have let you leave when you were that upset. He shouldn’t have made you that upset to begin with. He was out of line.

When he really thinks about it with a clearer mind, he understands to an extent why you didn’t tell him about taking the test. He was virtually a stranger to you right now. There would have been little point to filling him in right now when it would have just panicked and confused him. He knows, deep down, that if the test would have been positive that you would have told him. But he had been so scared at that moment, overhearing you on the phone like that. And if he really admitted it to himself, he was jealous, too. He wanted to be the one you confided in for all of those things, big or small, certainty or uncertainty. But he had done nothing to really earn that. 

It wasn’t fair that he accused you of not thinking about him, either. It was so clear in everything that the two of you did that you were taking him into consideration. You had stayed with him every single day in the hospital. You had taken an impromptu leave of absence from work and drove him to all of his appointments. You cooked all of his meals for him and made sure he took his medicine on time and were readily available if he needed anything. You did everything you could to make him as comfortable as he could possibly be in this impossibly uncomfortable situation. You had sacrificed everything for him, and he was a jerk to you in response. 

He really, really wants you to come home soon. 

He had gotten his phone back, but he hadn’t brought himself around to touching it yet, knowing it would be full of a whole life that he wasn’t ready to face yet. Would you even answer if he called at this point? 

Maybe he could go look for you instead. 

Right when he’s about to grab his shoes, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He heaves a sigh of relief when he sees you climbing the steps to the back porch through the window in the kitchen.

You must have come through the back gate instead. He doesn’t even care if it was because you wanted to avoid running into him immediately, so long as you were safe. 

You don’t unlock the door or move to enter the house. Instead, he watches as you settle into one of the plush chairs you have out there below the window that faces into the yard. Your back is to him now, but he’s breathing easier that you’re in his line of sight; you’re okay. 

He lets you be, for a little while. But after another 20 minutes had passed and the sun started setting without you coming inside, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was vibrating with the need to be near you again, to talk to you and apologize. He didn’t like being on the outs with you like this, and he knew it was mostly his fault. 

Your knees are tucked into your chest and your head leant back, but he could see that your eyes were open. They turned to him when he cracked open the door. 

“Hey,” he said simply. 

“Hey.” Your voice is still thick with the tears you had cried earlier. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, knowing he was the one who caused it. 

“Do you mind if I join you out here?” 

“Sure.” 

He steps out onto the porch, sliding the door shut behind him. You look back out into the orange covering your background as he sinks into the chair next to you. 

“How uh..how was your walk?” 

“It was fine,” you respond, hugging your knees a little bit closer. You go to push a piece of hair behind your ear and your ring glints in the setting sun. 

“I was worried about you,” he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear him. But you do, turning your head to look at him. For the first time, he can’t quite read the look on your face. He takes a shaky breath, rubbing his palms on his thighs as he tries to figure out his words. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have kept something that big from you.” 

He shakes his head, because blaming yourself is the last thing he wants for you. “You were looking out for me,” he says, “I understand that now. You…you would have told me, if the results were different. I know that.” 

You nod, not saying anything, and Bradley sighs out your name again. “It wasn’t fair for me to snap at you like that. To yell at you like that. I-I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but so are you. All of this, me being hurt and not….” he cuts himself off, but by the way you close your eyes and let a tear slip down your cheek, you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

Not remembering us. 

“I’ll never be mad at you for being injured, baby,” you say quietly. The term of endearment takes him by surprise. You were always careful with calling him by his name in an unnecessary effort to make him more comfortable; part of him wondered if you were trying to curb his own guilt. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says back. He desperately wants you to know that. You take a shuddering breath at the words. 

“This isn’t your fault,” you say it like it’s an oath, so much so that he almost believes you. But it was hard to do that when there were tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Having you here is harder than I thought it would be,” you admitted so quietly that Bradley could barely hear you. “It’s like a part of me is missing, even though you’re right here in front of me. And I know it’s hard for you to not remember anything, and I’m being selfish-“ 

“You aren’t being selfish.”

You chuckle humorlessly, wiping away at your tears. 

“I’m serious,” he says, and his fingers itch to reach for you. “I think you may be the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You’ve done nothing but take care of me the last two weeks, even when I was in the hospital.” 

“I’ll always take care of you,” you promise, “You’re the most important person in the world to me, Bradley.” 

He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that at first, overcome with the emotions that it caused. He thinks that he would do anything for you, too. 

“I want to remember you,” he finds himself saying, and your eyes shoot to him again, startled at the words. He nods. “I’m not-I’m not good at saying how I feel. But I’ve never, ever felt like I do when I’m with you. You give me butterflies. And I have this instinctual urge to protect you and make you happy. Being around you has been the best part of everyday, even if I’m so confused the whole time.” 

You sniffle as more tears fall. 

“You say all those things about me,” he continues, “and how you’ll always take care of me. And I know I would do the same for you. Even now.”

He lets out a shaky breath, ”It’s like I know who you are right here,” he taps his hand against his chest over his heart, and you let out a small sob. He raises his hand to tap his fingers against his forehead, too. “But I think I need your help to remember you here, okay?”

“I can do that,” you hiccup, nodding rapidly. “We can do it together.”

“That sounds nice.” It really, really does. He returns your soft, watery smile, and he revels in how your eyes shine in the moonlight that had appeared, looking at him like he really was something special to you. 

“Can I -” you stop, clearing your throat and shaking your head as if you’re trying to talk yourself out of something. 

“What?” he encourages. 

“Nothing.” 

“No,” he insists, “please. Tell me.” 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” 

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his answer; he wants to do whatever he could for you. 

Your breathing is shaky, and your voice is as small as he had heard it since he’d opened his eyes and had no idea who you were to him. Your eyes are bright with tears and dull with heartache all at the same time, but you’re still so heartbreakingly beautiful to him. 

“You tell me everyday. Multiple times most days, and even when you’re deployed, I don’t think you’ve gone this long without saying it somehow. I’ve been wanting to hear it so bad since I got the call you were hurt, because I knew it would mean that you’re okay, and I know you aren’t okay, but you’re here and that’s all that really matters and I-” 

He whispers your name to stop your rambling, worried about how tightly you were wringing your hands together and how quickly your breaths were coming. “What is it?” 

“Can you just…tell me you love me? Please?” 

Tears spring to his eyes this time, hating himself for putting you in this situation where you ever, ever had to ask him for something like this. The him from three weeks ago would hate the him sitting here right now. Hell, current him hates himself a little bit. He pushes that hatred aside, though, because this is something he can do. You’re going through misery because of him and this is the first request you had of him.

He doesn’t stop himself this time from reaching out for you. He drops to his knees in front of the chair you were curled up in, cupping your face in his hands. You gasp softly through your tears, reaching up and gripping his wrists in your own hands. He likes to think it was because you wanted to hold him there against you. Even with your tears splashing against his skin, it feels so right, touching you like this. 

You were breathing the same air as one another. He wipes a tear away when it hit his skin. He waits until your glassy eyes lock with his own to whisper the words: “I love you.” 

And he knows, in the deepest depths of his soul, even after so little time passing since being reintroduced to you, that it’s true. He feels a peace settle over him that hadn’t been there before; a missing piece slotting into place, even if the puzzle is nowhere near complete. Saying it feels so, so right, and he can’t help but close the distance between the two of you. It’s a gentle touch, but your lips are so soft against his that he leans into it. 

There's electricity burning under his skin. 

Something flickers in his mind, like a light struggling to turn on. A burnt orange dress and a Cinderella reference, cobblestone streets and a latte that tastes better on your lips than in the cup. There’s a word right there, and he struggles for a moment to grasp onto it. But when he does, it’s like he’s seeing in color after being in a black and white movie. 

“Pumpkin,” he breathes against your lips, “I call you Pumpkin.” 

You sob, then, nodding your head. You’re so close that he can feel your nose brushing against his. You kiss him again, the salt of your tears mixing with his. Your hands move from where they had been grasping his wrists to wrap around his body and you let yourself fall into him, slipping from the chair to meet him on the ground. 

When you pull away from his kiss, you bury your face in his neck, still crying softly. He holds you against him tightly. 

“I’m right here,” he says into your hair like a promise, pressing his lips wherever he can reach, “we’ll remember everything together.”

----

Part Six :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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[unknownperson246]

hellooo could you please write an angst with a happy ending fic with izzy? i feel like crying today 🙏

Hiii I was inspired by the first episode in the first season of American horror story for this fic 🩵

One More Chance

words: 715

warnings: *angst* *fluff* *cheating* *sobbing* *cussing* *pain* *labor* *pregnancy* *premature baby*

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

You and Izzy have been married for around 6 years and you have always trusted him on everything with your life. You go out yourself to do groceries after around 40 minutes you come back and put your grocery bags down on the counter. You hear footsteps upstairs and you get scared because only you and Izzy live there. You hear it from the nursery room where your baby's crib is. It sounds like footsteps and there are sounds of a man and a woman moaning. You are 7 months pregnant with Izzy's baby. You go upstairs with a knife scared that it's an intruder. You open the door and see Izzy naked on top of another woman. Izzy stares at you in shock. He is scared to move an inch because you caught him cheating on you. You start to sob without saying one word. You drop the knife and run downstairs. You lock yourself in the bathroom and start to sob really hard. Izzy runs after you to the bathroom.

“Open the door Y/N,” He says panicked. 

“Y/N please just open the goddamn door” He begs. 

You open the door and he sees how red your eyes are. Izzy reaches for your hand and he rests his hand on your stomach.

“Don't fucking touch me” You say pulling away from Izzy's touch.

“You don't fucking deserve this child or me.” You yell at Izzy which causes him to get startled. Izzy flinches when you say those words.

“Im fucking leaving your ass” You yell at Izzy while running upstairs to pack your things.

“Y/N be careful” He says to you as he sees you running.

“You can’t tell me what to fucking do,” You say while flipping him off. 

“You're not going anywhere with my baby,” He says while trapping you in the corner of the room. 

“Y/N I love you” His eyes are pleading for you to stay with him.

“If you loved me you wouldn't have cheated on me” You spit in Izzy's face.

He pins you on the bed.

“I swear I will do anything to prove that I love you” Izzy pleads with you.

“Then let me leave this house.” You tell Izzy.

“Anything but that,” Izzy tells you.

“I will give you one more chance Izzy if you fuck up we are through” You make your statement to Izzy.

You and Izzy spend the night in silence. You change the bedsheets in case Izzy and the woman fucked on there too. “Why are you changing the bedsheets?” Izzy asks you.

“In case you and the woman did it on here” You sob in the middle of your words.

Izzy immediately holds you and comforts you.

“Shh im sorry babe” Izzy keeps repeating over and over again.

“You fucking bastard” You cry softly in his arms.

“I know let it all out,” Izzy tells you.

You fall asleep in Izzy's arms and he gently lays you down on the bed. He watches you fall asleep and he eventually falls asleep taking in your soft scent. The next morning you wake up you notice a pool of water from underneath you.

“Fuck” You cry in pain as you realize it was your water.

You shake Izzy awake.

“Izzy my water broke” You cry as he wakes up.

“Shit,” He says.

“It's too early” You panic.

You both think that the cause of this was the argument you had last night.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Izzy says.

Izzy gets out of the bed and helps you to his car. After an hour you're in the maternity ward giving birth to your kid. Izzy is by your side and he is supportive. You let him touch you. You later on forgive him because he is showing development after a couple of months. Your daughter is now 4 months old and she is doing okay after you had her prematurely. Izzy has been by your and your daughter's side during these difficult times. When she's crying in the middle of the night he gets up and takes care of her. You and Izzy decide to renew your vows and he swears on his life that he is never going to cheat on you ever again.

[ailithnight]

A King In Arkham

Henceforth, you will need an AO3 account to read this there.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Danny was having a very confusing week.

It started with being kidnapped from his room in Arkham by a human tank that called himself Red X. Red X took him to a "safehouse" which was actually a repurposed warehouse. Then fed him the first non-hospital meal he'd had had in months.

Danny is a bit ashamed to admit he moaned at the first bite of a burger from the local fast food franchise. He'd all but forgotten how good food could be. Despite the mask, Danny got the impression that X was giving him a look at the sound. What kind of look, Danny wasn't sure.

Confusion or amusement would make sense. Danny could certainly imagine himself confused or amused if he heard someone moan into their Nasty Meal. But for some reason, some instinct told him that the emotion behind the look was closer to anger with an undercurrent of sorrow. Which Danny just couldn't wrap his head around. What about him appreciating a good burger could make X angry and/or sad?

Then again, maybe Danny shouldn't bother trying to wrap his head around Red X's behavior at all. The whole experience with him made no sense. He kidnaps Danny, apparently as a favor for someone who wasn't Vlad. Feeds his victim and puts him in bed. (Its too soft, too warm, Danny can't sleep in it. X gives him another one of those weird looks when he finds Danny splayed out, not quite dozing on the cool concrete floor.)

And the next day just, drops Danny off in some random woman's office at the Gotham Gazette's headquarters. Leaving him there at the ass crack of dawn like his job was done, instead of meeting with anyone to hand Danny off to whoever he'd been kindnapped for. Nothing about his interactions with Red X made any sense.

But of course, that was just the start of the week.

The woman who came in to find Danny in her office then proceeded to, well, scream first, which was an entirely justified reaction to finding an Arkham patient in you office the day after a break out. But then, instead of turning him over to the authorities, she gave him a bottle of water and proceeded to spend the next several hours 'interviewing' him. It was afternnon before she finally called security to have Danny returned to Arkham. If he hadn't still been so used to skipped meals from his time Before, he's sure his body would have been protesting the extended interview loudly.

Once the police picked him up, they interrogated him for another few hours about how he escaped. Danny was nothing but honest, though of course they didn't believe him. No one did these days. But that's okay. Eventually they were able to pull the Arkham security tapes to corroborate Danny's story. Once the saw it for themselves, they finally relented and called a transport truck to take Danny home.

Of course, then the Arkham guards had to spend an hour reprimanding him for the 'escape attempt'. He tells them earnestly that he had nothing to do with his own kidnapping. No one believes that of course. It seems they think that Danny's previous good behavior was a manipulation tactic.

They tell him no one will be falling for that again. That's fine. They tell him he's lost privileges for a month. That's fine too. Tell him he's lucky they don't move him to the max security wing. Danny doesn't think he'd mind if they did.

Finally, finally, they let him go back to his room around 7:30. It's a couple hours yet until lights out, but Danny doesn't care. He almost collapses into the thin mattress. It is by no objective means comfortable. But it is familiar. And Danny finds comfort in that. He falls asleep easily.

Some hours later, after lights out, Danny jolts awake from a... dream? It wasn't quite a good dream, but it wasn't quite The Nightmare either. It's already slipping out of his mind, but he has the vague sense it involved X and burgers and a chill creeping in his throat.

It must couldn't have been an entirely pleasant dream. For one, Danny doesn't get good dreams anymore. For another, he opens his eyes to a familiar black void hovering above him, the pit in his stomach deepening with her lingering touch.

As much as her presence makes his sins weigh heavier on his soul, Danny can't help but give Spectra a small smile. That... startles her, he thinks. In an instant, the cool hand leaching warmth and resonating with that hollow ache inside him is gone. He misses it.

The next morning, Danny has a new therapist, again. Seeing this one is a punch in the gut. There aren't really a bunch of similarities. Just blue-green eyes and long red hair. But just those 2 is enough to hurt. To remember that Jazz will never get to be here, sitting in that chair, talking to her patients, making Arkham a better place like she'd wanted ever since she heard Harley Quinn's story. Jazz will never get to chase her dreams and it's all his fault.

Danny tries, he really does and even mostly succeeds, to not get lost in his own head while they go through the normal routine. It's always the same question. Except... this time it deviates. Dr. Sparrow doesn't press at the self harm issue like all the others. She presses her lips, clearly dissatisfied with Danny's answer, but she lets it slide.

"Would you like to talk about the break out, Danny?" For the first time in 3 long months, Danny has heard a new question. Of course it's that one, but still, it's new. Danny can't decide whether or not he likes it. He shrugs.

"It happened. I got kidnapped." Dr. Sparrow is looking at him weird. She doesn't look unhappy or doubtful. In fact, she almost looks understanding, like she believes him. She looks too much like Jazz. It hurts. Danny looks away.

"You understand why it is difficult to believe you were an unwilling victim, don't you, Danny?" He shrugs. "Not only are very few people privy to the information that you are a patient here, but security footage also doesn't show you putting up any kind of a fight against your supposed kidnapper." She even sounds like Jazz, presenting her logical arguments.

"I... I don't know what you want me to say." She sighs.

"I just want to understand. I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Danny." I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Little Brother. Danny can't help the full body flinch. Anger, misplaced aggression surges under his skin. It feels like ice in his veins.

"Understand what! Everyone I love is dead because of me! Because I tried to take one shortcut and couldn't handle the consequences! And this! This is the better outcome! This time I won't hurt any more people." The reminder of what his grief causes makes the anger evaporate, leaving behind that familiar hollowness. "That's all that matters. As long as I don't get anyone else killed... Vlad is the only one who could hurt me in any way that matters. S'long as I don't end up with him, I don't care."

Danny is pretty sure he knows what J- Dr. Sparrow is going to say about that. He doesn't want to hear it. He can't stand to hear it. So he lets his mind slip away. When he tunes back in, the guard is there to escort him back to 26B. He glances at Dr. Sparrow. Her grim frown and worried eyes are too familiar. It makes the hollowness shudder, a spark of oh so dangerous care catching inside.. He wants to... he needs to...

"I'm sorry, Dr. Sparrow. For shutting down." Her eyes widen, concern vanishing into shock. "You remind me of my sister. She wanted to be a psychologist here too." With that, he turns around and lets the guard lead him back to his room.

The rest of the day is mostly a haze to Danny. He's peripherally aware of someone bringing around lunch, then later dinner. Danny briefly picks at the food, but he doesn't think he's hungry.

The third day starts with them telling him Dr. Sparrow cancelled there therapy session. She won't be seeing him anymore.

That's good.

She doesn't need to waste her valuable care on him. She's better off treating someone who could actually get better. Someone who can do more than just not cause trouble. Someone worthy of a life outside of Arkham.

It'll take them at least a day or 2 to assign him a new doctor. Danny expects the rest of the day to be a blur in his room. But some time after lunch, a guard comes and escorts him to a section of the hospital Danny has never been before. The visitation wing. There, waiting in a small privacy room, is the Head Doctor, the Cheif of Security, and a stranger in a trench coat who for some reason makes Danny's skin crawl with a desire to get very far away very fast.

The Cheif of Security looks at Trench Vibes, clearly disgruntled. "Is this really necessary?"

Trench Vibes responds in a heavy British accent. "Official Justice League Dark business, mate." Danny's surprise is almost enough for him to actually feel it. "Word has it, kid's got ghosts. I'm just hear to check up on that." Head Doctpr sputters a moment.

"Surely you don't mean to imply the ghost's could actually exist? Ghosts are not real, sir." Trench Vibes snorts.

"Sure. Next you'll tell me that magic ain't real either." Head Doctor opens his mouth to rebut, but then a golden light swirls around Trench Vibes' fingertips and that seems to make the Doctor rethink a few things. "Now, if you'll give me a few minutes with the kid, then I'll be out of your hair." He waits for the Doctor, Chief, and guard to all leave the room before he even looks at Danny. "I really hope I don't have to be the one to tell you your a little bit dead, kid."

"Danny."

"John Constantine."

Welp, no reason to lie here. ". . . I know I'm half ghost."

"Good. Well, not good that you're half dead, but good that you know. That would not be a fun conversation. Not that this one is much better. You're being haunted?"

"Not much anymore. It's okay." Trench Vibes, John Constantine, just gives Danny a disbelieving look. "Honest Mr. Constantine. I think they're getting bored since I won't fight them anymore."

"Anymore?"

"I'm from Amity Park. Ghost fights were a pretty regular thing there."

"I'm sorry, what? You're telling me there's a town under seige by ghosts and we didn't know about it?"

"You didn't... know? I mean, it's probably fine now. The ghosts mostly came to give me grief. Plus, I'm sure Vlad has dismantled my parent's portal by now."

"Portal?"

"To the Ghost Zone."

"Your parents had a portal to the Infinite Realms!?"

"Is that what you call the swirling green place?" Mr. Constantine sighs. He reaches a hand into his coat, but comes up empty. Whatever he was reaching for must have been confiscated before he could bring it into the hospital.

"So let me get this straight. Your parents opened a portal to the... Ghost Zone. No doubt flooded your whole town with enough ambient ecto to allow powerful physical manifestations. You somehow ended up half dead. Ghost start appearing. They fight you, you fight back, and now that you've left this Amity Park, those ghosts followed you here to continue haunting you."

"Pretty much."

"Why did you stop fighting back?"

". . . We aren't in Amity anymore. They can't hurt anyone."

"They've been hurting you." Trench Vibes has a scathing deadpan. If Danny could muster any feeling, he might be ashamed. Of course, as it were the closest thing he's experiencing to feeling right now is that prickling sensation that he should not be anywhere near Mr. Constantine.

"They can't hurt anyone that matters." Mr. Constantine abruptly stands.

"Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I am not equipped for this. I am reporting back to the Bat and then I guess I'm going to Illinois to figure out what the hell happened and why Dark didn't know about it." Mr. Constantine vanishes in a flash of light. A few seconds later, the guard comes and takes Danny back to his room.

At some point during day 4, Walker visits. Again, the surprise is almost strong enough to break through the cold hollow feeling in his chest. Almost. Walker had only visited once, the day they sent him here, to gloat over seeing the Halfa Punk finally imprisoned for his crimes.

The warden glances around his empty room, then settles for staring at Danny. Time passes, lunch and dinner a blur where Danny, for the 4th day in a row, barely eats a third of each meal. Walker is stares at him the whole time. It's kind of creepy and Danny almost wants to snap at him. Almost. Instead he lies on. his cot and traces cracks in his ceiling like he's looking at constellations. Finally, just after lights out, Walker does more than stare. He speaks.

"Effective immediately, your previous sentencing has been overturned and all other charges are dropped. You are no longer Wanted, punk. Keep your nose clean. I never want to see you in my prison again." Danny spends most of the night thinking about Walker's change of heart and not being wanted as a ghost anymore.

The fifth day is mostly normal. Spectra shows back up. Danny doesn't make the mistake of smiling at her or acknowledging her at all really. He doesn't want to scare her off again. He missed her. She seems upset. She practically gouges his heart out with the ferocity with which she plunges her clawed hand into his chest to feast. She's not in the slightest gentle with how she drags more and more misery from him, through him. Danny doesn't mind the ache. He's just happy, to whatever empty extent he can be happy, that someone is reaping some meager benefit from his still beating heart.

Day 6 passes much the same with Spectra hovering over him the whole day.

Finally, day 7. The final day to finish out the most disorienting week of Danny's short life. The grand finale of confusion starts with Danny back in the visitation wing. Spectra stays with him right up until they walk into that same little room from 3 days ago, where Danny sees Mr. Kincaid, the social worker he met once when he arrived in Gotham, and a man in a fancy business suit. Mr. Business stands up and smiles, looking for all the world like Danny had made his day by walking in the room.

"Hello Danny, my name is Bruce Wayne."

[strikethematch18]

Of Sleep, Humanity, and Tainted Sorrow

Instead Of Sleep Universe (IOSU)

Dazai x F! Reader, Dazai x Chuuya, Dazai x F! Reader x Chuuya

Word Count: 2,696

This is an offshoot of my Bungou Stray Dogs oneshot Instead of sleep, I like to call this the Instead of Sleep Universe. While this could probably be read as a standalone, I would not recommend it. I’ll make sure to link the original. Instead of Sleep

To recap: Reader is a member of the ADA with an ability called Instead of Sleep which allows her hot project her current exhaustion onto someone else and enter their dreamscape, or subconscious. Her ability only works if she is tired beforehand and suffers from extreme insomnia because of this. “Instead of Sleep” ability is loosely based on the Ao3 tag “I wrote this instead of sleeping”

The original ship was just Dazai x Reader, but I’m a greedy indulgent little shit with a love for why choose books so this installment is Dazai and Chuuya with Reader.

This has not been proofed or edited. I am also considering writing a second part.

m.list

The relationship started with just you and Dazai, you thought it was monogamous, you thought it was just the two of you, faithful to each other. So, when you found out you were "the other woman" you were actually heartbroken beyond belief. Not only were you unable to sleep because of your ability, but you were unable to eat, you took up cases left and right and going home to change and stare at your ceiling most nights; sometimes your coworkers would come into the office the next morning to find you in the same position you were in when they left, at your desk doing your work but also nearly everyone else's too.

Every member of the agency tried in their own way to get you to settle, relax, eat at least a little something, or take a small nap. Well, all except for Dazai, he had tried in the beginning but your kept your distance as much as possible. Ranpo would leave snacks or force them into your hand. Yosano would drag you to the infirmary after a laborious case under the guise of a checkup but would make you lay there for a minimum of 30 minutes if you didn't manage to fall asleep for at least some rest. Junichiro and Kenji both trying to brighten your mood with jokes or tales from home. Kyouka would place the stuffed bunny she kept on her desk in your lap if she noticed you were fiddling with your hands more than usual and seemed anxious. Atsushi even guided you to an open section of the office a few times where he arranged the futon kept in the office for just in case scenarios, would force you down, and would turn into Byakko for you to contently sigh and curl into the tiger and at least run your fingers through the fur and let the tension slip from your shoulders and occasionally your eyes droop until you'd fall into a small slumber, that was about as much sleep as you would get. The president on more than one occasion would try to send you home and to not come back until you rested, but you both knew it was fruitless cause.

This carried on until eventually you had passed out from the lack of care your body was receiving on top of falling sick and found yourself in the hospital for a week and a half. When you woke up early in your stay there was Dazai in a chair pulled up next to your bed with his head in his hands and a certain redhead mafia executive leaning in the doorway to your room.

Come to find out, Dazai was bisexual and was interested in a polyamorous relationship and was working up the nerve to tell you about it and his relationship with Chuuya. He knew he never should have entered that relationship with you without you explicitly knowing. And was he ever sorry, seeing your weakened state and how much smaller you looked in that hospital bed amplified that. He stayed away because it's what he thought you wanted, that you were disgusted, never did he think you were going to find yourself sick in the hospital.

And well, Chuuya at the time was indifferent. Sure, the Mackeral should have done a lot different, but he didn't know you as well as he did Dazai. He did know you through Osamu, he knew details about you; hell he kept pestering Dazai to tell you early on so save both of you from the pain; he didn’t know things had gotten this bad. He didn't know you, but he wanted to, especially after he saw your smile and heard your laugh for the first time, even more so when it was over a piece of commentary regarding something dumb his ever so smart partner had just said.

Over time, your relationship with Dazai repaired and grew with Chuuya. Eventually, you found yourself in the best relationship you could ever hope to be in. Sincerely loved by both men and spoiled beyond belief, you didn't think you deserved it but were grateful you did. Most nights you spent in-between the two, curled into Dazai with Chuuya wrapped behind you; in fact most nights you actually got at least a few hours of peaceful sleep - this was the most rested you had been in years.

That's part of why you were worried when a joint mission with the ADA and Port mafia required the once double black to team up for a mission that was going to take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. Despite the usual efficiency between the two on missions, this was week three without them. You had managed to sleep maybe a collected 8 hours during that time. The three of you called regularly, sometimes it was enough to lull you into a light sleep but it never lasted a full hour. You would try to assure them that, yes you were getting some rest, but both men could hear the exhaustion in your tone as you tried to pretend for their sake.

So, when during one of your calls during a day you had off and you were sniffling and your voice sounded just a bit off, Dazai and Chuuya knew they had to finish this mission and finish it now. Of course they asked what was wrong and if anything happened just to make sure that wasn't the problem and you said you were sure it was just allergies despite it raining, it became clear to them your immune system had taken a hit. Which per past events, a simple cold had the high probability of moving downhill quickly.

You never had a particularly strong immune system, lack of proper rest tends to weaken its defense and ability to recover. By the end of the call you had let the coughs you were trying to hide slip and your voice was rougher than when the conversation started and you sounded absolutely exhausted. Keeping up the facade proved to be hard as the time went on.

This was more than enough to get double black to act quickly and end this. They had more than enough to report and act on. If their new plan went the way it was supposed to they would be back to you by tomorrow morning. By the evening hours the mission was completed, their bags were packed and Dazai and Chuuya were on a train back to Yokohama. Paperwork was done on the journey back and dropped off at its respected location before they made the trip back to mafia executives apartment where all three of you have been living. Dazai had made sure to tell shachou both of you wouldn't be in today or tomorrow, longer depending on how sick you were. Fukuzawa's eyes widened when he heard you were sick and told the brunette to not worry about coming back until you were in peak health, either of you. He knew Dazai was imperative to your recovery, sleep is a powerful medicine and you rarely got any without the detective.

After completing those quick tasks they met each other at the red heads building simultaneously and and hurried up the floors to reach the apartment. Getting ready to put the key into unlock the door both could hear a chesty cough and both looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Honey, we're ho-ome~!" Dazai announced sing songedly.

"Welcome back you two," you replied hoarsely before falling into the fit of coughs and slight wheezes.

Spotting you sat huddled in the corner of the sectional couch wrapped in the largest and fluffiest blanket they owned, Chuuya dropped his bag where he stood and made his way over to you. Watching you try to catch your breath worried him beyond belief as it reminded him of when you first officially met in that hospital room.

Placing his hand your forehead his frown deepened, "Oh lovebug."

Coughing a few more times you replied, "Sorry Chu."

"It's not your fault lovebug, let's get some medicine in you and get you in bed, okay?" Without giving you a choice he tugged you towards him before slipping an arm under your knees and the other on your back and lifting you up blanket and all. Dazai didn't miss the soft smile creeping onto his partners face as you nuzzled into Chuuya, relishing in the affection you've been deprived of the last few weeks. Wordlessly he made his way to the bathroom medicine cabinet and grabbed everything needed before walking into the shared bedroom and setting them down before preparing to change clothes. Osamu knew Chuuya was going to hold you and keep you to himself for a few minutes so you knew he was really there and to assure himself you were safe, so it gave him ample time to get things together. Taking off his typical ensemble and putting on a pair of charcoal sweatpants and pulling the navy t-shirt on just as Chuuya brought you into room, he got his first actual look at how exhausted and sick you looked. You seemed miserable and in more pain than he originally thought, but most importantly, you were so tired. And he knew better than to touch you until medicine has been taken.

That was the next action of business. Get you to take the multitude of medications he procured from the cabinet. He knew you were weak and feeling horrible but you never liked taking things, so often it was a fight. Nonetheless he proceeded to place each pill in a small cup for the pass off. If he so much as brushed your hand he knew you would be asleep almost instantly. And while sleep would help, it wouldn't be enough to get you back to peak health, not without the medicine. In the cup was a few vitamins, a decongestant, a cough reducer and something to hopefully bring your fever down. Currently placed in his pocket was your emergency inhaler left over from when you were able to come home from the hospital from before you had reconciled with him and your other lover.

Seeing the pills in a cup and small glass of water in his partners hand waiting to be handed to you Chuuya took the liberty of sitting on the side of the bed leaving you in his lap. Surprisingly but also unsurprisingly, you gingerly and gratefully took the cups into your slightly shaking hands to take the medicines. At least Dazai had the foresight to start off with the pills rather than any liquids, he knew you hated taking medicine in liquid form.

Noticing a slight bulge in Dazais pants pocket he asked, "Is that the inhaler?"

Glad his partner got the hint he confirmed it was before Chuuya took it upon himself to reach in and take it out while Dazai took the empty cups from your hands, longing to touch you but restraining. After looking at you Chuuya couldn't help but see how much these simple actions took out of you, exhaustion wearing you thin. Even keeping your head up was a struggle. He knew the inhaler could help, anything to help your lungs breathe better and decrease your wheezes. But he also knew you had very little strength left.

"Okay lovebug, we're going to tag team this, you know the drill," After getting the inhaler placed he counted down from 3 and pressed down to release the medicine.

You couldn't hold it in for long, forced to release a painful cough into your lovers chest, "Sorry Chuu," your hoarse voice rang out quietly.

"Bug its okay, you're sick and that was inevitable."

"I know. Just don't want you to get sick."

Coming back into the room after exiting the en suite bathroom Dazai chimed in, "We've got immune systems of steel we'll be fine. And if we're not we'll have the cutest nurse to take care of us."

Too tired to let out even a small laugh you smiled and responded, "yeah, I guess you're right.”

Chuuya went ahead and did a second dose of the inhaler, much like a similar response to before. After taking a coughing fit that had both men concerned for you wellbeing, they looked at each other reading each others minds as to whether or not they should take you to the hospital.

Half lidded, you looked at both of their faces and knew immediately what was on their minds, “I know what you two are thinking, and no, I’m not going to the hospital.”

”But love, you’re really sick, we’re just worried,” Dazai expressed wanting nothing more than to cup your cheek in his hand

”If-,” you began before coughing again, “If I get worse then you can take me. But I really just want to sleep first.”

Both men collectively sighed, in sync with each other after years of partnership. They knew any further arguing would be fruitless, also aware that they would have a hard time saying no to you when you were this sick and they had been away for the last few weeks.

Noticing the silence and your boys downtrodden faces you decided to break the silence, “So how was the mission, any issues? Take names? Kick ass?”

They knew what you were doing, and any other time they would have enlightened your antics, but chuuya could feel some of the fight leave your body as fatigue set in from the exhaustion and unconsciously knowing you were in a safe position. And so he gave you a small response to motivate you for later.

”You know I don’t kick any asses but yours and the shitty fish over here,” he smirked, “But I did kick some other things if you catch my drift.”

Before you had the time to continue your stalling tactic, wanting to spend time with Dazai and Chuuya that you had missed over the last few weeks, the later placed you in the middle of the bed so you would be between the both of you, as you were most nights. Dazai carefully pulled the blankets up so all either man had to do before crawling in to cuddle you from either side was pull their side of the corner back enough. While he did that, Chuuya changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of pajama pants, and a silly t-shirt you had gotten him early into your relationship that he was too proud to admit out loud that it was his favorite thing in his closet next to his signature hat. After his quick change, the redhead crawled in behind you, not quite around your body like the koala he is just yet- he was waiting for you to settle yourself with Dazai who was turning out lights around the apartment.

Looking at both his lovers waiting for him expectantly, one smiling with a dopey grin, and the other with flushed cheeks and glossy, tired eyes, he couldn’t help but want to relish in the moment but run to both of them for some well deserved rest at the same time. He sauntered over to his side of the bed, gently pulling back the covers and climbing in. Wiggling his eye brows, opening his arms to welcome you, you giggled lightly and rolled your eyes before you inched your way into them. He became inpatient and proceeded to pull you closer against him, not missing the small pout from the man on the other side of your now aware of the gap between the two of you causing the brunette to smirk.

Sighing in contentment at finally having you in his arms, your head to his chest, Dazai smiled down at your face, admiring your beauty even when you were so sick. He waited for Chuuya to settle around you before he expressed ‘love yous’ to both of you. Osamu could tell you were seconds away from sleep as he kissed your forehead, officially activating his ability, as you begun some of the best sleep you swear was the best in your entire life.

[gabessquishytum]

CW hospitals and medical stuff heyo! This is based partially off of my experience and therefore will probably be more on par with things in america.

Hob and Dream both get sent to the ER separately. Hob over a sport’s injury and Dream having some incredibly horrid insomnia issues. Hob and Dream sit next to each other coincidentally and unfortunately for Dream, Hob’s a talker. Dream is not even listening half convinced Hob’s lost it when they both suddenly notice an Elderly woman and her son come in, she is in a lot of pain and the son says he’ll be back to take a smoke break.

“he’s going to leave her here” Dream mutters the first time he’s spoken in the hour they’ve been there.

“No that’s horrible! Who would do that to their mother?” Hob asks

“people have problems, you don’t know about,”

hob hums thoughtfully,

“I’ll bet you twenty dollars her son comes back”

dream simply nods feeling he is about to become twenty dollars richer. When thirty minutes later the son comes back.

“yes,” Hob whispers “hope in humanity triumphs!”

Dream grumbles and starts digging through his purse.

“I was kidding, I don’t need the money, I’m Hob by the way”

“I know,” Dream says. “I also know you were born in 1989”

Hob is taken aback “how’d you know that?”

“you loudly proclaimed your date and birth when you were getting checked in”

“oh you cheeky bastard I like you,”

so for the next six hours that they are waiting they swap stories and make more bets. Hob finally gets a room and dream bemoans the fact that he forgot to ask for Hob’s number. Until… Dream gets his room and hey turns out he’s rooming with Hob!

“hey stranger,”

“Robert”

Dream sits down primly on his bed. Hob’s injury is fairly severe so he has to stay a few days, and so does Dream but Hob’s not exactly sure why, they’ve always got him hooked up to the vital machine but he doesn’t seem…sick? by day three Dream is defeated. “Hey Dream…what’s wrong?”

“they won’t let me go home, until I get a full eight hours,”

“oh…”

“I CANT sleep hob! I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Why can’t I do a basic human function like every other human being!” it then occurs to Hob that he’s never seen Dream sleep, Dream was awake when hob fell asleep and already up when Hob woke up. Hob assumed he slept while the other was sleeping but apparently not.

“you want to try something a tad bit unorthodox?” “I’ll do anything,” dream practically begs.

“wanna cuddle?”

“but I’m hooked up to the monitor and-“

“I’ll come to you,”

“but your foot”

“I’ll come to you”

Dream finally nods and Hob hobbles over to his bedside they managed to get themselves in an order where dream was laying on top of Hob’s chest.

“Comfy?” Hob asks, and Dream practically purrs like a cat. hob rubs his back with one hand and runs his fingers through his think dark black hair with the other and Dream? Dream falls asleep and stays asleep. the next morning Dream’s doctor comes in and is like “Did you mess with the monitor it says you got a full eight hours,”

“No sir, I simply found a natural remedy,”

Hob waves to the doctor, he’s back in his own bed.

the doctor still wants to monitor Dream for a few days to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. Eventually Hob decides to just stay in bed with Dream, it’s easier on his foot that way. and once the two have fully recovered after a few weeks, they go on their first of many dates.

-🦎 anon

Thank you for sending this!!! The dialogue you've added really made me melt, they're so sweet. I love the image of Hob, well, hobbling over to Dream with his broken foot. The doctor and the nurses on duty all pretend to be cross about breaking hospital rules, it's really not allowed, blah blah blah. But no one actually tells Hob to get out of Dream’s bed. They can see that he's curing their grumpiest (affectionate) and most horribly sleep deprived patient, and despite the rules they're not going to interfere with such clear progress.

The problem comes when both of them are discharged. Dream will no longer be able to sleep on top of Hob. But there is one solution - Hob could do with a bit of home help, with his foot still unusable. Dream immediately offers his services (he's a terrible nurse but he tries his best, bless him) in exchange for a solid 8 hours passed out with his head on Hob’s chest.

When they finally leave Hob’s flat for that long awaited date, Hob still has the cute hobbly walk, and Dream still has dark circles under his eyes. But they're MUCH better together. And yes, Dream is moving in to Hob’s place properly tomorrow <3

[mintmatcha]

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Mind the tags!!

TW: angst, mentions of child loss, cisfem reader with she/her pronouns

Kirishima’s voice echoes down the hall, despite how he tries to keep it quiet. The sound is almost covered by the distant mumblings of the radio, but his timbre, throaty and familiar, carries, creeping down the hall to where it isn’t supposed to be. With your eyes closed, you can picture him, with his outside coat still pulled over his shoulders and mismatched shoes crammed into his feet.

“Hey, congrats, man,” he says. The phone had rung a couple minutes ago and without a doubt, you know who’s on the other line and what they’re talking about. Only Bakugo would call this early in the morning, only one topic needs to be whispered,  “I’m really happy for you. Tell your wife I said congrats too.”

He shifts, socked feet sliding against the carpet. The hot compress pressed into your stomach lost its heat hours ago, but still, you clutch at it, pulling at it through the covers. No matter how you try to settle in, your bed offers no comfort, so you lay there and don’t even try to sleep, listening to a conversation that you know will make you hurt.

“Uh, yeah- maybe. Soonish. I, uh- yeah. I know, we're next,” Kirishima whispers. A singer once told you that whispering is harder on your vocal cords than talking and you can hear it now, tearing up his voice the lower he tries to go, scratching it unbearably raw. “Listen, I gotta go. We were at the hospital last night, so--- Yeah, we’re fine. She’s fine. I’ll explain another day, okay?”

He exhales. It’s shaky.  “I’ll explain later. Bye.”

Kirishima sighs with the weight of the world and you feel it too, crushing your rib cage. Every breath aches like your body doesn’t want to take it.

Your husband stands in the hall for a long time, still and sighing, pulling each breath deep before letting it out again through his teeth. Eventually, he slinks into the room, tiptoeing over to his side of the bed. He knows you aren’t asleep-

How could you fall asleep after that?

“Hey,” he tucks his legs under him as he settles into bed and you roll over to face him. Bags have settled under his eyes, dark and creased from tears he hasn’t yet shed. For now, in front of you, he stays strong, unbreakable even without the quirk.

"Are... are you still cramping?" he stumbles over himself, "I can heat that thing up again.”

There's a familiar knot in your lower stomach that comes and goes, but shake your head anyway. If it hurts, it feels real.

"Just let me know," he rubs his knuckles down your arm, "Anything for you."

You need him to say it. The knowledge you’re not supposed to have itches.

But Kirishima is too kind. He kisses your forehead with a delicacy that makes your eyes water.

"I love you," he says.

“They’re having another kid, aren’t they?”

Kirishima recoils at that and the horrified, ruined expression on his face tells you what you need to know.

 “Honey,” he whispers. His body crumples into yours, practically laying on top of you, and his weight pressed the heat pack even harder into your already aching core. Hid head nuzzled deep into your cheek, muffling the way his breath hiccups with an inhaled sob as he gathers himself. “Oh, sweetie.”

“It’s fine,” you reply.

He's not fine, lamenting in a tone that almost makes you mad. It aches so horribly that you've gone numb to it all, why can't he be the same?

"I didn’t want you to hear that.”  

“It’s fine.”

He squeezes you like he needs you closer than actually possible, adjusting his grip every couple of seconds when the proximity doesn't satiate him. “I didn’t want you to know. Not yet. Not so soon."

“There's no reason to get upset about it,” The edge of the hospital bracelet eats into your wrist. “It’s not their fault our babies can't stay alive."

When he reels back to stare at you, you can't meet his gaze. You know what you fid. The wound between you is still too fresh to prod, but you hit it anyway.

"Don't say that."

It was only a couple hours ago when the doctor patted your knee like he cared and said he was very, very sorry, but there just isn't a heartbeat anymore. These things happen, he said, the first fifteen weeks can be fickle, try not to blame yourself, the bleeding won't last long.

Kirishima just nodded the whole time, head bobbing up and down with a thinly veiled, wide eyed horror.

You did nothing. You've heard it before. You both have.

"Why would I be upset that Bakugo's having his third kid?" You're picking at the edges of Kirishima's sleeve, freeing frayed edges, looking anywhere but at him and those sad, sad eyes, "I've been pregnant three times too. It's no big deal."

"Please stop," he says, much louder now.

“It's not their fault I'm broken."

“Please stop.”  Kirishima's hand hooks behind your neck as he pleads, thumb running out your cheek, “I- you're being cruel."

"My baby died," you say simply, "I'm allowed to be."

Kirishima's lower lip wobbles and for a moment you swear he fractures, about to slip completely apart in your hands. Against the bloodshot white of his eyes, the iris seems faded and tired. The cut through his monolid has long silvered, much thinner than it once was, but still there, a reminder that he was young once.

Your own eyes burn with tears once again.

"Not to yourself. And not to me. You don't get to be mean with me." His thumb brushes over your cheek again, softer this time. Despite his quirk, his hands are smooth and uncalloused, their touch almost tickling. "I lost him too."

On your first date, Kirishima offhandledly mentioned he wanted his children to have quirks just like him. Back then, it was nothing more than a silly whimsy, but that thought creeped its way into your daydreams, then into your hopes, until it cemented itself there, a permanent fixture of your idealized life.

It takes effort to step out of your own grief. Kirishima didn't physically lose the pregnancy like you did, but he is still mourning all the same, letting go of a dream he's clutched for longer than you probably know.

"I'm sorry." You finally hug him back, squeezing with all the might your exhausted body can muster.

"I know." His shoulders hitch and quiver, but he doesn't cry. Not yet. The quiet of your empty apartment eats at you both, the only sound being that of your uneven breathing, out of sync with each other. Eventually you both relax into each other, taking solace in the simple comfort of proximity.

"Bakugo's gonna ask," Kirishima whispers suddenly, "And I don't know how to tell him. I can't just-"

He sniffles. "I'm not you. I can't just say it."

You run your knuckles up and down his knotted back, but stay silent. You understand, of course, the suffocating, unbearable misery that sits in the room is almost too much to address.

But how are you supposed to live with something your husband can't even talk about in public?

[talanashta]

(Initially) Unwilling

For @metalsandwichbingo square B1 "(initially) unwilling roommates"

Rating: T | CWs: Lots of Swearing, Mentions of Injuries | Word Count: 1,161 | Pairings: Steve/Eddie, pre-Steve/Eddie/Billy

Summary: Steve wakes up in the hospital after the events of S3 to find he's sharing the room with a... very unexpected roommate.

A/N: First time making a moodboard-thing to go with my fic, so if you have any tips to make them look better, shoot them my way!

When they’d brought Steve into the hospital room after getting his head scanned, his temporary roommate’s curtain was wide open, and the bed was empty.  The nurse, however, warned him it wouldn’t be for long.

“He’s in surgery, right now,” she told him.  “We’ll try to keep it down when we bring him in, since you need your rest.  Might not be ‘til morning anyway,” she added with a sweet smile.

Steve’s head hurt, and he was exhausted, so he just nodded and let her leave.  He really wanted Robin or Eddie right now, but Robin was sequestered away in a room somewhere else, fine but needing to be observed from the Russian drugs, and Eddie had been sent home once they admitted Steve, promising to come back at the start of visiting hours the next day.  Eventually, he managed to fall asleep.

He sort of remembers the couple times the nurses came and checked on him in the night, waking him up for a few minutes and asking him some questions before letting him doze back off.

When he properly woke up the next morning – 7:42 according to the clock over the door, almost visiting hours – he saw the curtains around the bed next to him drawn shut now.  His roommate must’ve gotten out of surgery while he was sleeping then.

He didn’t know what to do with himself to kill time until Eddie arrived.  His concussion meant his head felt like it was being split in two, the little light coming in through the blinds and the cracked door was like looking into the sun, and his face felt like it was on fire, probably from the swelling causing pinched nerves.  There was nothing to look at or distract him either, so he spent the next twenty-or-so minutes just staring at the speckled ceiling tiles until he heard the scuff of sneakers running on linoleum.

The door slammed the rest of the way open, smacking into the rubber bumper and causing a thud that made Steve flinch.

“Sorry, Stevie, sorry,” Eddie whispered frantically, re-closing the door to a crack and coming over, hands waving around Steve but not coming down to touch him.

“’s okay,” Steve mumbled to him.  “Glad you’re here.”  He tried to smile at his boyfriend, but the cut on his face and the swelling soon had him stopping.

“Yeah, I’m glad to be here,” Eddie said with a soft smile.  He started to lean in for a kiss before looking up at the neighbor’s curtains, pulling back with a grimace.  Instead, he tapped his fingertips to his lips silently, then ever-so-gently tapped them to Steve’s.

After he pulled his hand back, Eddie began looking around for a chair, but Steve knew there weren’t any in his room – probably to discourage guests from lingering.

“You’ll have to go steal one from the waiting area,” Steve slurred out weakly.  His head started to roll to the side, but he forced himself to keep looking directly at Eddie.

Eddie nodded to him.  “Kay, Stevie.  I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, Steve let his eyes drift shut, just for a minute…

Only to wake to a soft thud and a whispered “Fuck!” from Eddie coming back.  It looked like he bumped the chair right into the door frame.

“I just have to keep apologizing, don’t I?” Eddie asked him bashfully as he set down the chair at Steve’s bedside.

Steve heard a groan from behind the curtain next to him, and both his and Eddie’s heads shot over to look in that direction.

“Would you two shut up?” a familiar voice said angrily.  “I’m trying to recover from almost dying.”

“Hargrove?” Steve asked incredulously.  They put him in the same room as Hargrove?  Hargrove who beat the shit out of him one time Hargrove?  Hargrove who was just possessed and should probably be under government surveillance Hargrove?  What kind of massive fucking oversight was this?

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Billy said.  “They just reconstructed my abdomen, and I’m feeling pretty pissy there’s not a nurse here with more pain meds.”

Eddie gave him a look and touched his hand, so Steve nodded.

“I’ll go get the nurse for you, Hargrove,” Eddie said, standing up.

As Eddie left, Steve heard sheets rustling on the other side of the curtain, then Billy said bitterly, “Thank fucking God.  These nurses didn’t bother to put the fucking call button within reach of the guy who just had fucking surgery.”

Okay, sure, Steve kind of hated the guy, but he didn’t exactly wish bad things on his enemies, so he felt a little bad for Billy.  “Sorry, man,” he apologized.  “I’d come help if I could, but the room starts to spin when I sit up.  Eddie will be back soon with the nurse.”

The room was silent for a few long moments, until Steve heard a barely there, “Thanks,” that honestly, he might’ve imagined hearing.

Soon, Eddie came bursting back in the door – his boyfriend had such an overinflated sense of drama, but dear God, did he love that guy – with the nurse in tow, who promptly bustled off behind the curtain to help Billy.  Eddie returned to Steve’s bedside, squeezing his hand quickly once before pulling away.

“Uncle Wayne’s supposed to be by later today,” Eddie said in a promising tone.  “He really wanted to come sooner, but I told him he needed to sleep first.  He looked dead on his feet.  I hope that’s okay.”  He looked unsure.

Steve tried to pat him on the knee, but he was still feeling a little uncoordinated, so it was more like mid-thigh.  “It’s okay.  Wayne needs his rest too; he still has work tonight, right?”  It was a rhetorical question; Steve knew all three of their schedules like the back of his hand.  “I don’t want him to get hurt at work because he was too tired.”

He could practically see the hearts in Eddie’s eyes the way he was looking at Steve softly.  “Yeah.  I promised him I’d be here the whole time to make up for it, but I’d be here anyways.”

He looked like he was going to say more, but he was interrupted by the nurse sliding open the curtains around Billy’s bed then coming over to Steve.

“Just need to check your pupils real quick, sweetie,” the nurse said softly, pulling out a small light.

It took everything in him not to pull away when she shined it in his eyes multiple times.

“Looking much better than last night,” she told him.  “Meds will be in about an hour.  If you need anything before then, press your call button.”

After she stepped out the door, Hargrove turned his head to look at Steve and Eddie.  “Did I just hear that I’m stuck with you hanging around all day, Munson?” he asked them.  Then he said sarcastically, “Great,” and rolled his eyes.

Well, fuck you too, Hargrove.

[slugg4rd]

Brain rot so bad I’m posting on Tumblr💔

Haymitch x gn reader rambling ig?!?!

Word count: 1.2k

He’s a stubborn alcoholic with depression who copes by being rude or otherwise sarcastic, you test his patience SO MUCH. He knows he hates you, that’s about it, but also he finds a good deal of fun in goading you and bantering with you whenever you’re around. This man is a handful, and he’s mean, and he has literally no patience for bs.

Idk how you win him over, the logistics don’t matter rn I’m going nutty thinking about him. Imo I love the whole co-mentor thingy, anything that forces him to be around you bc otherwise he’s off hiding somewhere moping. Like imagine being depressed together, fighting over your different tastes in drinks or coping. He’s hugging a whole bottle of liquor or maybe wine if it’s fancy enough and he’s scrutinizing your fruity cocktail like it’s any of his business.

Especially love the thought of getting drunk with him, at this point he just falls asleep when he’s buzzed but he’s trying to stay awake just to bicker and get as much of a reaction from you as he can. The only time he shuts up is if you roast tf out of him, he’d slump down into a chair or on the couch mumbling something barely coherent and then he’s out like a light.

Or, even better, you’re both sleepy drunks and start nodding off at the bar. You barely remember the walk to bed, all you know is somehow you’re still arguing with Haymitch. He throws himself onto the mattress, your mattress, both to piss you off and because he’s too burnt out to bother walking to his own bed across the hall. You flop down next to him and then all of a sudden you’re waking up hungover and half hugging that fool. The both of you freak out to find you’re in bed with one another, fearing the worst, and eventually having to accept the harsh reality that you spent the whole night cuddling and nothing more.

He doesn’t just refuse to admit he likes you, he’s literally oblivious to even the idea of it. No he definitely doesn’t enjoy your company, and he definitely doesn’t seek you out, and there’s no way he would ever think about you outside of your brief and unfortunate interactions. But then you start joking around talking about some pretty celebrity or a handsome victor from another district and suddenly he’s so defensive.

“Her? She’s two faced.”

“Him? He’s not even average.”

“Them? They’re frugal.”

He can’t even begin to realize he’s getting jealous, he’s too busy trying to shoot down all your compliments to these half baked crushes.

But if you compliment him he thinks you’re joking. You say he looks handsome and he’s all “Haha, very funny, y’know you look good too- with your mouth shut.” He’s gonna go for the jugular, but also he finds it getting harder and harder to insult you. Since when did your annoying smile become something he could tolerate? He must still be drunk..

You’ve wormed your way into his life and his head and suddenly you’re over at his house in the Victor’s Village, cleaning up for him while talking about self care and how he deserves it. You’re infuriating, and yet his lawn is trimmed and his walkway is clear of weeds and even his bookshelves are free of dust- and maybe he should go outside for a bit today and get some fresh air.

You’re tidying everything up and then he’s bringing you some old Knick Knacks, keeping track of your hobbies so he can leave you gifts, forcing you to sit down and relax for a minute between daily stressors. You call him an enabler and the laughter that follows makes your heart all fuzzy in the worst way. Every time you do something for him he thanks you in a way that makes it clear he didn’t think anyone would ever do this for him. And when you thank him for his gifts, his occasional reality checks, and his unwilling hospitality, he can’t help but feel more proud than he should that something he did held even an ounce of substance in your life.

How do you even confess??? Do you??? It’s like one second nothing was there and the next you both just agreed that you were a thing, end of discussion. He’s yours, you’re his. You’ve basically moved in at this point, and you’ve been egging him on and showing him he’s worth the effort, and it’s starting to get through his thick skull that maybe there’s worth in improvement. You don’t fix him, as I said before, he’s stubborn, but he finds his own rationale getting weaker and weaker each time he tries to argue why he should go out for drinks tonight. And then when things break and you’re telling him just what he means to you, he’s finding himself falling into you like a damn safety net.

And once he’s got you he is not letting go.

Protective is one thing, this man is clingy. Like Velcro. But he’s a brat and he’s not going to let you tell him how needy he is, it’s just a coincidence that he’s always by your side. He’ll say he’s “keeping you in line” its “your fault” because you’re in his way, but you both know he’s been following you around on his own fruition. He’s attached to your hip at this point, literally. He has a particular affinity though, and that’s hugging you from behind. He just comes up like he owns the place and wraps his arms around your midsection, shoving his face into the back of your neck with the biggest sigh he can muster. And if you reach up to play with his hair that’s it, he’s going to drag you to whatever couch is closest and have an impromptu nap session.

Also did I mention he’s petty? Because he is. And he’s annoying unlike anything. You go to sit down in a chair? He’s already seated in it, patting for you to come into his lap. You want to try a bite of his food? He’s making you take it from his mouth. You need to shower? He’s asking to come so he can keep you company. And if you let him join you, he’s 100% sitting there watching while going on about how “you missed a spot” just to see how irritated you can get.

Letting him come into the bathroom with you when you shower is like making a deal with the devil. This man is going above and beyond for your attention while you’re trying to focus on the task at hand. He’s definitely offering to help you out, saying he can scrub your back for you and all that, it’s up to you whether you let him join or kick him out.

Either way after you’re done he’s so soft and tender, wrapping you in a towel and drying your face off, saying you look like a drowned rat while also telling you that you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He ruffles your hair with the towel just to squeeze it around you and grab you by your waist, pulling you until you kiss him. But if you’re still mad at him he’ll keep drying you off and messing with you until he can get you to crack a smile, and then he’s peppering kisses all over your cheeks as you push his face away.

He’s a nuisance, but he’s your nuisance, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ummm anywho that’s all I got 🙏

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 13

Rain and the others are exhausted, but the ghouls have finally reached the Abbey. Will his recovery continue to go smoothly? Also: the ghouls meet the ghoulettes.

Longer chapter this week, because I couldn't find a better split! Please don't hate me for this one...

Rating: M Content: hospitals, sickness, quintosis for medical reasons, panic attacks, nightmares Words: 7576

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Hi tag gang! @everybodyshusband @rainsbasspick @revengeghoulette

Read below, or on AO3!

Dew took a deep breath and raised his hand to the bell pull. As his fingers hung poised to curl around it, the large doors suddenly swung inwards.

“Dewdrop!” Shrieked a high voice, echoing Dew’s arrival the week before. “I saw you coming, I’m so happy you came back!”

She threw her arms around him in a hug, almost suffocating him with her mass of white hair. Looking up, she spotted the four ghouls stood awkwardly behind Dew watching the reunion.

“This must be your pack!” She exclaimed in delight, releasing him. “I hope you’ve been taking care of our Dewy.”

Dewy hid his head in his hands in exaggerated embarrassment.

“Everyone, this is Cumulus. She's more like a hurricane than a ghoul, but don't let her scare you.”

“Pshhh, come in, come in,” grabbing Dew by the hand she pulled him through the open doors, beckoning the others to follow, “Riri’s rounding up the others, we can do introductions then!”

“Lus wait,” Dew pulled back, hesitant, “we’ve had a hard journey, and I think half my pack are about to fall asleep standing up. Could it wait until the morning?”

She stopped in her tracks, looking back at them all.

“Why didn’t I see that?” She looked appalled that she had overlooked this. “Of course you’re tired after that long journey.”

Dew didn’t like to see her look so crestfallen, but with his packmates already being anxious about the new environment, he couldn’t foist several exuberant ghoulettes on them all at once.

“Give your horse to Bell, then let’s get you some supper.”

Dew looked behind him to check the pack were following and led them behind Cumulus into the courtyard. Sidling up on unnaturally silent hooved feet, Cowbell materialised next to them to take her reins.

Turning to look at Rain, Dew reached up a hand to help him down. He seemed to struggle to swing his leg over the saddle, and as his feet eventually landed on the ground, his knees buckled beneath him.

"Rain!” he gasped, struggling to support him as he went limp in a dead faint. Swiss was beside him in a second, helping take the weight of his tall body before he could collapse to the ground.

“What's wrong with him?” Fretted Aether, also swooping in to press his fingers to his temples and bring him round with his quintessence.

“I don't know, he's in a bad way again like before!” Dew cried in a panic. “We need to get him to the infirmary; they'll know what to do.”

“He was fine this morning, better than he's been all week, how has he gone downhill so fast?” said Mountain worriedly, taking Rain's weight from Dew and Swiss and scooping him up in his arms as though he weighed little more than the rucksack still on his back. Rain's eyelids flickered open as the quintessence took hold, but his eyes remained unfocussed and glassy.

Watching in alarm, Cumulus quickly ushered the ghouls into the building and towards the infirmary wing. Dew chased alongside Mountain as he strode down the corridor, his eyes never leaving Rain for a second. They burst through the doors, alarming a young quintessence ghoul stood on the other side of them. He swiftly regained his composure and directed Mountain to an empty bed he could lay Rain on, calling out for backup from the other ghouls stood around.

“What happened to him?” he asked, leaping into action without even questioning who this gaggle of unfamiliar ghouls were.

“We don't know, he was sleepy this afternoon and then fainted out of nowhere!” Dew said, frantic. “He's been weak, but he seemed to be getting better!”

“He looks like he's taken quite a beating,” hummed an older ghoulette, “but these are healing bruises not fresh.”

“Two weeks ago,” interjected Swiss, “he was attacked two weeks ago, then locked in a human jail for a week and beaten again. He's been on the mend but started getting tired again in the last few hours.”

The ghouls nodded, looking confused as they pressed fingers to him checking his vitals, both those of his vessel and his soul.

“His heart rate is slow, but not especially slow for a water ghoul.”

“His energy feels very weak, like it's been strained.”

“He'd dreadfully malnourished,” the ghoulette looked up at the panicked travellers, “you said he was locked up for a week?” She was answered by an assortment of nods. “If you hadn't said, I'd have thought it was closer to a month. One week of imprisonment, no matter how poor the conditions, shouldn't have sapped him of this much strength.”

“Will he be okay?” Dew could hear his voice come out uncomfortably high, a note of hysteria modulating his words.

“He should be, but I’d like to keep a close eye on him,” The senior ghoulette looked at them sagely, “we need to make sure there's no underlying problem making him weaker.”

She turned to look at Aether, “You’re quintessence.”

He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Aether.”

“Astra. Have you noticed any change in his energy over the last few weeks? Anything that could indicate this was brewing?”

“His elemental connection only fully clicked two weeks ago,” Aether explained, “he could wield water powers before but never that strongly. They came in rather unexpectedly and a bit too strong, that’s what landed him in trouble with the humans we lived alongside.”

Well that was putting it mildly, thought Dew.

“Is there anything else that could have affected him?”

They all thought for a moment. In the lead-up to Rain’s catastrophic actions, everything had seemed normal.

“Your Calamus leaf potions couldn’t have done this?” Asked Swiss, clutching at straws.

“They should have strengthened his magic, not weakened it,” Aether mused, “they’ve never had any adverse effects before.”

“Oh!” Burst out a much younger ghoulette with cropped, indigo hair. “Are you the ghouls who wrote that incredible book Copia keeps raving about? I'd never heard of Calamus until I read that!”

Aether and Mountain stared at her, open mouthed, before turning their gaze on Dew.

“Would you happen to know anything about that, Dewdrop?” growled Mountain. Dew had the grace to look sheepish at that, but tried to defend himself regardless,

“I had to! You don’t understand how it works here, I had to bring something with a large value of knowledge so they’d help us!”

“I don’t care; you should’ve asked us, and explained yourself! You don’t just steal.”

“If I’d asked,” snarled Dew, “you wouldn’t have let me come here and then Rain would be–”

“Enough,” Aether bellowed directly into their minds. The pair clutched at their heads in pain. “We will talk about this later,” he continued, out loud now, “Dew, you will explain yourself. For now though, Rain is our priority.”

“Yes Aether.” Dew muttered, chastised. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have stolen it without asking, but I promise I had a reason. You’ll get it back, I swear.”

With a harumph, Aether turned back to the quintessence ghouls as though nothing had happened.

“Rain’s recovery hasn’t been linear. From what I understand, after his power came in he was beaten unconscious. A few hours later he was conscious but unresponsive, but by the next day with some food and medicinal herbs he seemed to be doing better?”

Swiss nodded in assent.

“He wasn’t talking but he was communicating,” the multi ghoul added, “he had his magic still then, I saw it.”

Astra nodded, frantically scribbling notes.

“Then he was attacked again, and totally unresponsive for days. He only started reacting and talking again a few days after we pulled him out of there.”

“He was doing so well this morning though,” said Dew, stood clutching Rain's hand after grabbing it instinctively once he was on the bed, “his magic was the strongest it's ever been!”

“He was exhausted by midday though,” pointed out Aether, “I thought he was just sleepy.”

Dew shook his head thoughtfully. “He's been sleeping really well, since that awful nightmare a few days ago.” Leaning over the water ghoul, he saw his eyes flicker sightly in recognition, but remain unfocused and unseeing. His normally bright blue irises were so pale they were almost grey.

“What's wrong, Rainy?” He whispered, so low only Rain could have heard him. “How do I help you get better?”

The four ghouls continued watching their sick packmate in concern as the quintessence ghouls began bustling around, making sure he was comfortable and making various notes on him.

“You should get some rest,” Astra advised them, laying a reassuring hand on Dew's shoulder, “we can take care of your mate from here. You all look exhausted yourselves, and you'll be no help if you pass out on my floor. I'm sure we'll have him right-as-rain in no time!”

Dew was too stunned by her assumption that they were mates to notice her terrible joke.

“We're not– I'm not –” by the time he had finished spluttering indignantly, face cherry-red, she had already walked off with a serene smile.

Cumulus materialised next to them.

“I can take you to our wing, where Dew's old room is, for tonight? There're some spare rooms made up already in case you came. I can bring you some food and make sure you're not overwhelmed with new faces if you'd like?”

Dew was so relieved by the suggestion of quiet that he could have hugged her, regardless of the suffocation risk her hair posed. He looked at his pack for confirmation, getting a mixture of nods and shrugs, before accepting her offer.

“Thanks Lus, that sounds perfect.”

With a final concerned look back at Rain's prone form on the bed, they solemnly followed Cumulus down the corridor and up a small flight of stone stairs.

“We're very close to the infirmary here,” she remarked, leading them through a large door into a corridor unlike the rest of the building so far. The walls were covered with small pictures and decorations, the doors each engraved with elemental symbols, names, and more. It felt homely.

“The room at the end is our common room, there's snacks and water in there so feel free to explore, but I can't promise it will be empty. This is mine and Cirrus’ room if you need me,” she gestured to a door, painted sky-blue with small engravings of clouds lining the panelling, “and this is Dew's room.” The door was plainer, impersonal, with no real sign that Dew had ever lived behind it.

Entering, they found their saddlebags in a neat pile in the corner of the room. The bag containing Swiss’ beat-up guitar was carefully laid on its side next to them, presumably by a careful Cowbell. No one had been in the mood for it during their trip, and none of them felt so now either. They were all still wearing their own knapsacks, Dew realised as he suddenly felt the weight of the straps pressing heavily on his shoulders. He tossed his into a corner, the others following suit. In the centre of the room was Dew's large bed, a towering pile of blankets for a proper nest stacked high on top. A fire roared in the grate, making the room pleasantly warm.

“I can show you to the spare rooms?” Cumulus hovered in the doorway. That was a force of habit, Dew thought: he had always been wary of others entering his space uninvited. The other ghouls looked uneasy at the suggestion, and Swiss spoke for them all,

“I think we'd prefer to stay together for now, with one of our own sick.”

His competing visions all agreed on one thing: regardless of where they started the night, their sleeping positions would all converge into one pile. Camping together over the last week they had gotten used to each other's proximity and being apart right now, especially with Rain being unwell, felt scary. Besides, the bed was easily bigger than the combined bedrolls they had been sleeping on for the past two weeks.

Cumulus nodded. “I'll run to the kitchens and find you some supper.” Spinning on her heel, she darted away. She was an enthusiastic host, Dew thought, and clearly felt awkward given the strange situation they had found themselves in.

The pack kicked off their shoes and silently slumped to the floor, loath to make the clean bed dirty with their dusty traveling clothes.

“He'll be alright,” Swiss said after a while, “with all those quintessence ghouls looking after him, they're bound to work out what's wrong.”

The mood was sober, all of them trying not to think about what could happen if they didn't figure it out.

“Right Dew, tell us what the situation is with the book,” sighed Aether, “then we can put it behind us.”

Dew looked guiltily into his lap where he was sat with his legs crossed as he explained the situation.

“I mentioned it before, but the way things work here help isn't completely free. They don't ask for payment in gold though, it's in knowledge or time.” The others nodded, remembering vaguely.

“Well, when I was leaving to come and ask if they had any ideas about rescuing Rain, I wasn't sure they'd help for free. It's been a long time since I left, and I did so without telling anyone. I wasn't even here that long, but I got close with the ghoulettes very fast, only to abandon everyone.”

The similarity to his flight northward a few weeks prior wasn't lost on any of them.

“So I grabbed your encyclopaedia before I left, thinking that if they demanded payment, I would have something to give them and could get back to Rain sooner. Then I left it here for them to transcribe, because I figured we were likely to all come back here, but I knew you might not want to stay for long enough to pay it back. Now our debts are cleared, and they can help Rain and we're free to leave as soon as he's better and I'm sorry I didn't ask first but I didn't have time to explain all this, I'm sorry!”

Dew was rambling now; he could tell as he caught his breath. He looked imploringly at his packmates, hoping they would at least understand, if not forgive him. Aether's face softened.

“Oh Dew,” he gave him a small and encouraging smile, “I'm not mad at you, I can see why you took it. You should have told us though! If not at the time, you could have mentioned it sooner, okay?”

Hanging his head, Dew nodded.

“We forgive you, right Mount?”

“Yeah, I get it,” he grumbled, “we'll get it back soon, right?”

“I’ll ask Mist when we see her, she's the head ghoul in the library here, she'll know.” promised Dew.

“Great!” Swiss chirped with forced cheerfulness, glad that conversation was over. The alternative of worrying about Rain was still worse though. “We're all good now, right? No more secrets?”

Dew thought for a second. His whole life was full of secrets, but he thought that was the last of the ones he owed his pack.

“That's everything.” he confirmed.

With that, there was a knock on the door,

“Room service!” came the musical voice from the other side.

“Come in!” Answered Dew, scrambling to his feet.

Cumulus opened the door, and pushed a small cart laden with trays of food through.

“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I grabbed a bit of everything!”

Their mouths watered at the smell; a jumbled mix of cooked meats, melted cheese, a thousand competing spices, and “fresh bread!” Swiss cried in delight.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” laughed Cumulus, seeing the wide eyes of the hungry ghouls, “Riri sends her love, she was wondering if you’d be up for some introductions tomorrow?”

Dew glanced back at the others and saw no objections.

“That sounds good, I’d like to visit Rain first though. See how he’s doing.”

“Of course!” She smiled, her warm breezy smile bringing Dew the same comfort it had all those years ago. “Good night, boys!”

A chorus of “g’night” came from the others, and Cumulus fluttered her perfectly manicured claws in a wave before disappearing back down the hall to the common room.

Dew pushed the cart to the middle of the room, and began unloading covered trays onto the floor between them. They could eat one more meal like this, before returning to the land of tables and chairs. No one spoke as they filled their plates, the only sounds for a while were the quiet moas of appreciation they made, sinking their fangs into proper, varied food. By coincidence, there was not a fish in sight, and none of them were able to feel too sorry about that.

Once they had taken the edge of their hunger, conversation began to flow again. Chiefly of interest were the myriad new faces they had either met, or were soon to meet.

“Cumulus seems nice,” started Swiss, ripping the meat of a steak from the bone as juices ran down his chin, “a lot, but nice.”

“She is,” Dew smiled, “she’s a total sweetheart, but I’m certain she’d delight in tearing any of us limb from limb if we hurt her, or her mate Cirrus.”

“Another air ghoulette?” asked Aether through a mouthful of potato.

“Same clan even. They arrived here together, apparently. Cirrus was the first ghoulette I met, she took me in when I was starving on their doorstep.” Dew paused to shovel more bread into his mouth. “I’m sure you can trade stories of my general incompetence at looking after myself.”

That got a snicker from Aether and Mountain, to Dew’s delight.

“We’re you really that bad?” Swiss asked incredulously.

“Rain with almost no magic was better at surviving in the woods than me,” Dew rolled his eyes good-humouredly at his ineptitude, “at least he could catch his own food. I could start a fire and make myself sick by eating the wrong plants.”

There was another lull while Dew set about stripping every morsel of flesh from a chicken leg; the warm spices nourishing his soul as much as his stomach.

“The ghoul we briefly met earlier, who took our horse to the stables, was Cowbell. No one really knows what element they are, and they don’t talk much, but they've been here forever and they’re loyal to a fault. I like them.”

“You mentioned another multi ghoul before?” Swiss had never met any ghouls of his kind outside of his birth clan before. Multi ghouls were rare and unique, their clans few and far between. The thought of meeting another filled him with excitement.

“Yeah, she’s joined since I left,” Dew smiled at the brief memory of her, a whirlwind of positive energy, “you’ll like her, I’m sure. She’s probably going to become Mist’s mate sooner or later.”

“The librarian?” asked Mountain.

Dew nodded. “You can ask her how the transcription is going tomorrow.”

“And the human?” Aether was curious to meet the mysterious man, who seemed vastly outnumbered in this house of ghouls.

“Papa Emeritus the Fourth, Copia, he’s in charge officially,” Dew confirmed, “he mostly leaves the ghouls to their own devices providing they pull their weight, and he manages the few humans who work and worship here. He’s a busy man, but he’ll want to see you, he always makes time for us ghouls.”

“It’s going to be a busy day for us too,” Aether yawned widely. The food was almost gone, and their exhaustion was starting to hit, “time for bed soon?”

A rumble of harmonising purrs declared that a good idea.

With the plates and trays stashed on the trolley and rolled back into the corridor, the ghouls took turns washing the grime of the road from their bodies. The magically heated water was blissful, but none of them wanted to waste too much time in the bathroom when a plush nest awaited them. There would be ample time to bathe properly tomorrow. Drying off with cloud-soft towels, they grabbed – rather tight for most of them – shirts and underwear from the pile Dew had found still in the dresser and crawled onto the soft mattress. It seemed his room had remained untouched since he left. That was strange given the short time he had lived here; had Cumulus always seen him returning one day?

Dew was the last to leave the bathroom, having changed inside into a shirt and a pair of sleep trousers that could only fit him. He emerged to find Aether and Swiss beckoning him to squeeze in-between them, trapping him in the centre of his old nest. Mountain was behind Swiss, the multi ghoul wearing him like a backpack as they pretended they weren’t clearly cuddling in the flickering firelight.

Before long, he could hear their relaxed snores echoing around the room. Despite his own tiredness, Dew could not sleep. He was worried about Rain: worried about the sudden deterioration of his health; worried that the quintessence ghouls might not work out what had caused it; worried that he may have another nightmare all alone in the infirmary. Aether’s arms felt too firm around his shoulders; Swiss’ too warm. Rain should be here, Rain should be the one he was cuddled with. Even after only a few nights in each other’s arms, Dew felt addicted. What if Rain felt the same? What if he wasn’t able to sleep – he needed to sleep to get better! What if he had another nightmare and Dew wasn’t there to comfort him.

Mind made up, Dew wriggled free of the heavy arms around him and padded for the door. He opened it as quietly as he could, ears pricked for any stray ghoulettes wandering the halls. Judging from the quiet murmur of noise and the light coming from under the common room door, they were still up and talking. On socked feet, he tiptoed out of the dormitory wing and down to the infirmary.

‘I’m coming, Rain.’

Dew rounded the final corner of the stone corridor, slinking into the welcoming, dim glow of the infirmary. Almost everyone was asleep, but the large ghoul stationed at the desk on night duty shot him a smile. Dew thought he recognised him from his time before. He tried to return the greeting, but feared it came out as more of a grimace.

Sneaking behind the curtain around Rain’s bed, Dew was at first hopeful that he was sleeping. He was lying quiet and still, but on closer inspection Dew saw that his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. Only his extra set of cat-like inner eyelids were closed, keeping his eyes moist but giving him a creepy blank gaze.

The curtain drew back again.

“He’s tired, but not sleeping.” Said the ghoul, entering and pressing two fingers to Rain’s forehead to check on him. He made a note on a chart at the foot of Rain’s bed. “We still don’t know what’s wrong, if anything he seems to be getting less and less responsive.”

Omega, that was his name remembered Dew, pressed a damp flannel to Rain’s dry and chapped lips. He returned it to a bowl on the table beside the bed.

“He shouldn’t get too dehydrated, it’s not good for water ghouls, but he isn’t lucid enough to drink.” Omega explained. “I’ll be popping in periodically to check on him, but feel free to stay as long as you want.”

Dew nodded, hovering awkwardly with the tall ghoul still watching him. Once the curtain closed and he drifted off to his next patient, Dew was able to take a proper look at Rain. His normally pale skin was translucent, almost waxy, and his usually shiny hair fell in limp tendrils around his face. He picked up the flannel, wringing out the excess water and did as Omega had done, carefully wetting Rain’s lips. They twitched slightly, grateful for the hydration, but still Rain made no move to either respond, or drift any closer towards sleep.

With no one around to see, Dew did what his instincts had been screaming at him to do since he was in the ghoul pile in his bedroom: he carefully scrambled up into Rain’s bed, slotting himself behind the icy water ghoul and propping him up against his chest. Dew wrapped his arms around him to begin warming him up, combing his fingers through the ends of Rain’s hair and teasing out the tangles. The water ghoul stirred, leaning softly into his touch, and Dew took that as a signal to continue. He glamoured his claws away and reached up to rake his blunt nails across his scalp and through his hair. Rain's eyes slipped closed and he sank further into his embrace, until Dew had to shift his position to keep supporting the weight of him.

Once his hair was smooth again, although still dry and dull, Dew began braiding it with nimble fingers as Cirrus had once done for him. He revelled in the silky feel of the dark strands passing through his hands; Rain's hair was so pretty, even in its current state. Dew hoped Rain would let him play with it again when he was better, so he could experience the ebony waves in their full beauty. All too soon, Dew had finished weaving Rain's dark strands into two perfect braids that curled from his temples to behind his ears. He hoped it would be enough to protect it from tangling further against the cotton of the infirmary pillowcases.

Dew helped Rain settle back down into the bed, manoeuvring his long limbs into a comfortable sleeping position. He was no quintessence ghoul, but he seemed calmer now and Dew hoped that he would be able to get some much-needed rest. With Rain back under the blankets, Dew wriggled down until he could press his warm nose in-between Rain's shoulder blades and hold him tightly. He waited until Rain's breathing slowed as he fell soundly asleep, before allowing himself to follow.

That was where the others found him the next morning. Swiss had woken first, the sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains hitting him square in the face. He twisted his head away from it, and let himself luxuriate in the warmth he had awoken to a little longer. Ghoul piles like this were sacred affairs; shared between only the closest of packs. He could probably count on one hand the number he’d had with his pack, never the most affectionate ghouls even at the best of times. They had mostly been on cold winter nights, when no amount of coaxing could make the fire burn hot enough and Dew’s intrinsic warmth was their only respite.

Their piles had never been this close before, however. Swiss found himself almost entirely trapped in the cage of Mountain’s arms, the earth ghoul clinging to him like a lifeline. They were so close, Swiss could feel his heartbeat thudding against his back.  It had been so long since he’d woken up like this; so long since he’d been held. He wished he could freeze the moment and stay here forever, safe in Mountain’s arms, in this limbo where he could dream that the giant ghoul was his.

Dew had seemed so certain Mountain felt the same way about him, yet Swiss couldn’t help but think that was too good to be true. He’d never heard Mountain express any desire to find a mate, but then again, Swiss hadn’t exactly talked about such things either. It wasn’t until the traumatic events of the last few weeks that he’d realised his own feelings even. Lying here feeling loved and wanted, Swiss was scared that by voicing his desires, they could risk losing what friendship they did have.

After his conversation with Dew, Swiss had given in to the temptation to see if any of his visions would outline a change in their relationship: be it good or bad. He hadn’t seen anything however; the Void stubbornly refusing to offer him even a hint. Swiss had wondered if he was subconsciously blocking it out again like he had done with Dew during the week he was away, too afraid of a negative outcome. Maybe he’d skirt around the topic and see what Mountain’s reaction was, rather than jumping straight into the big question? This was all a matter for later-Swiss however. For now, he was content to lay where he was and simply imagine.

Eventually, Swiss had to come back to reality. The warm breath on the back of his neck stuttered as Mountain woke, releasing him to stretch strong arms above his head, warm and bare legs pressing against his own. Swiss tried to avoid thinking about that, given their proximity. He feigned sleep for a bit longer, to see what Mountain’s reaction to him world be. To his delight, the earth ghoul recaptured him and snuffled his face into the back of Swiss’ hair.

“You awake, Snapdragon?” he murmured quietly. Swiss pretended to wake, stretching out before pressing back against Mountain’s chest.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed back, as nonchalantly as he could manage, “g’ mornin’.”

Swiss grinned to himself as Mountain showed no signs of releasing him. Even when Aether yawned and muttered his own sleepy good mornings, the earth ghoul kept him in his grip. He was so comfy, and the bed was warm but not too warm… wait.

“Where’s Dew?” asked Swiss, opening his eyes fully to check for signs of the fire ghoul. He made no move to leave the nest however.

“Wha–” Aether struggled upright, looking around, “he was here last night?”

“He’ll be with Rain,” Mountain spoke as thought it was obvious, his voice muffled by Swiss’s pile of dreadlocks that he refused to move his face from, “they’ll be fine.”

“Should we go and find him?” Aether stumbled out of bed, bare legs almost buckling as he stood up too fast.

The answering groans from the comfortable ghouls still under the blankets rumbled in perfect harmony.

Eventually, the fully-dressed ghouls slumped sleepily into the infirmary, once Aether had successfully guilt-tripped Swiss and Mountain into getting out of bed. They found Dew as he had fallen asleep last night; curled protectively around Rain. A tall quintessence ghoul, clearly on his way out after a shift, nodded at them in greeting as he passed.

Approaching the bed, they saw Rain looking even rougher than he had the night before. They shared a concerned glance, and as they did Dew finally noticed them.

“He’s really cold,” whispered Dew as though to explain their position, while making no move to change it, “but he’s sleeping, which is apparently a good sign.” He didn’t look so sure.

The ghouls kept their silent vigil by Rain's bedside until Cumulus came looking for them.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she smiled warmly, “we’re in the Den having breakfast, if you’d like to join us and make some introductions? Mist is already back in the library with Copia but we can go and bother them afterwards!”

The pack exchanged glances, and Aether spoke for them all,

“That sounds nice. It’s not like we can help Rain by just sitting here.”

“Great!” Cumulus chirped, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Cirrus and Sunny can’t wait to meet you!”

Dew was reluctant to leave Rain, but knew he had to be there too. Carefully, he released Rain and wriggled free of the bed.

“I still need to get dressed.” He muttered, but followed them back to the dormitories with only one glance back to check Rain was still asleep. Dew hated the thought of leaving him alone in a strange new place; he would be terrified to wake up in such a situation and he imagined Rain would feel the same, so he hoped they could be back before Rain awoke.

Cumulus almost skipped down the hallway ahead of them, the pack travelling with more trepidation. She flung open the door to the common room in their wing, and the ghouls almost didn’t notice the two ghoulettes inside past the loud contents of the room. The walls were the same grey stone as the hallway, only it was barely visible behind the swathes of colourful fabric that had been draped across them. The furniture was a mismatch of colours and fabrics, yet all looked delightfully soft. Trinkets covered every available surface, reminding Dew of Rain’s bedroom back at their farmhouse, with all its pretty rocks and shells. The room lead towards two large windows on the back wall, inset with a myriad colours of stained glass that cast rainbows  around the room. One was half-open, leading to a balcony beyond. It screamed home, often a faraway concept to ghouls not living with their birth clans.

Swiss was immediately enraptured; a joyful energy radiated from every corner of the room, fed by the love and thought that went into every part of its contents. He dreamed of living somewhere like this, somewhere he could make his own and fill with happiness and devotion. Their attention landed finally on the two ghoulettes, half-buried in their respective seats. They waved at the newcomers; one restrained and cautious in her actions, the other fizzing with exuberance. On a coffee table in front of them rested mugs of hot tea and piles of more baked goods than they could possibly manage to eat.

Cumulus flopped down into the loveseat next to the ash blonde ghoulette, who reached an arm out around her.

“Welcome back Dew,” she smiled warmly, “and welcome to your pack, too!”

“Hi Cir.” Dew offered her a small smile, before curling into the corner of the old and battered sofa and gesturing for his pack to find seats of their own. Swiss sank into the centre of the sofa, with Mountain beside him while Aether perched on the edge of a deceptively soft armchair that threatened to swallow him whole.

“This is Cirrus,” he figured he should do the introductions, “she’s the first ghoulette I met here.”

“Sunshine,” Dew gestured to the redheaded ghoulette sat cross-legged in a hideous orange velvet rocking chair, “is who you can thank for the plan to get Rain out.”

Sunshine mimed taking a bow, setting the chair oscillating back and forth wildly.

“Everyone, these are my packmates,” Dew looked at them; the ragtag band still slightly dishevelled from their journey, and looking awkwardly out of place in the ghoulettes’ colourful sitting room. He couldn’t have been prouder to call them his pack, “Aether, Mountain and Swiss.”

Conversation flowed slowly but smoothly, as the still-ravenous ghouls devoured the mountain of food in front of them. If they had thought Cumulus was a lot to handle, Sunshine was even more outgoing. Aether found himself warming quickly to Cirrus; two kind and steady personalities drawn together. Dew watched in wonder as his packmates seamlessly interacted with the ghoulettes; even Mountain seemed interested in Sunshine and her work at the Abbey, adapting the greenhouse to grow plants from warmer climates.

“Do you want to meet Mist and Copia too?” asked Cirrus, during a lull in the conversation. After a brief pause for Swiss to snaffle the last fruit bun, they followed her and the other ghoulettes down yet more stone hallways all the way to the other end of the Abbey.

“Dew’s probably told you, but the library is one of the most important rooms here after the Chapel,” Cirrus explained as they walked, “we have the largest collection of books detailing His work here on Earth and in the pit, as well as all manner of literature on the natural world.”

“That’s why Mist is so busy right now,” Sunshine interjected, “she’s leading the transcription of that book the two of you wrote. I haven’t seen Copia so excited by anything in years!”

Aether and Mountain exchanged glances that could only be read as ‘who is this guy?’

Turning another corner, Cirrus stopped in front of a pair of ornately carved oak doors.

“The library.”

She threw open the doors, revealing a large, high-ceilinged room lined with shelves upon shelves of books. In the centre were a cluster of desks, and cosy armchairs seemed to have been dotted wherever there was space. Long and narrow windows tossed columns of morning light across the room, supplemented by many candles that burned with an enchanted, heatless flame. Sat at the desks were half a dozen ghouls, all studiously scribbling on sheets of linen paper. None of them looked up at the disturbance, too engrossed in their work.

Sunshine wriggled past the ghouls blocking the door and skipped over to a ghoulette with cropped white hair, throwing her arms around her from behind while her quill was raised in contemplation.

“Hello Baby,” she cooed in her ear, “we brought you some guests.”

Even from the door, Dew could see the indigo blush reach the tips of Mist's ears. It was funny, he thought, seeing the normally unflappable ghoulette taken down like this. When she looked to the door, Dew wiggled his fingers in a small wave.

“Dew!” she cried, leaping to her feet and accidentally dislodging Sunshine, “I heard you’d come back!”

She swept to the door and pulled Dew, not a tall ghoul by anyone's standards, down to her height in a bone-crushing hug.

“With your pack, too,” she eyed them appraisingly, “your water ghoul is in the infirmary I heard. I’m not surprised, given what those humans put him through.”

Dew nodded, and chose not to explore why hearing Rain described as his water ghoul made his stomach feel strange and fluttery.

“Now,” Mist continued, pointing an accusatory finger at the others, “which of you is responsible for this absolute monster of a text we’ve been holed up in here copying for the last week?”

Swiss immediately pointed towards Mountain and Aether, intimidated by the small but fierce ghoulette. She turned her gaze on them; having to crane her neck to properly look Mountain in the eye.

“Who did the drawings?”

Mountain raised a cautious hand.

“Beautiful,” she stated, “ours aren’t half as good.”

She swivelled to face Aether.

“You.” Narrowing her eyes, she seemed almost ready to square up for a fight. “You wrote the text.”

Aether looked like he wanted to run away. He didn’t see what he could’ve done wrong.

“Why in Satan’s name is your handwriting so damn small!” Mist practically growled at him, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “It’s incredible work, but we can barely read it without a magnifying glass!”

Lost for words, Aether stumbled back slightly and looked to Dew for backup. Luckily, he was saved from Mist’s exaggerated wrath by Copia emerging from the far doors that led to his office.

“Good morning, dear ghouls!” he called, swishing towards them in his long cassock. “Dewdrop, I am delighted to have you back with us, I trust your young packmate is here safely too, no?”

“Hello Papa,” Dew bowed his head politely, “he is sick in the infirmary, but yes Rain is here. The plan worked perfectly.”

“Ah, I am sorry to hear he is unwell,” the warmth in his eyes was genuine, all the ghouls could see that, “but this must be the rest of your pack!”

The others watched him cautiously, wary of the human stood before them. Swiss was the first to step forward, extending a hand in the human greeting he was most familiar with. Copia clasped it graciously, shaking it twice before raising it and dipping his head to press his lips to Swiss’ dry and cracked knuckles.

“It is a pleasure to meet you…” he paused, waiting for Swiss to supply a name.

“Swiss.” If he was amused by the strange man’s behaviour, he didn’t show it. “Multi ghoul.”

“Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Swiss.” He turned to face the more wary Aether and Mountain,

“You must be the pair responsible for this incredible anthology of regional fauna we are all hard at work on!” He lifted his arms, as though praising them, like the dark Priest they figured he was. “My goodness, it has been many a moon since I saw a work this spectacular, this comprehensive.”

He looked like he was about to embrace them, before thinking better of it and instead going in for more handshakes and kisses.

 “Aether,” the quintessence ghoul spoke clearly and professionally, “we thank you for your hospitality.”

"Mountain.” Quieter, hesitant, he accepted the deferent greeting of the Abbey's leader.

“You must meet some of our Earth ghouls! Your knowledge of the southern environment especially will be of tremendous interest to them.”

“How many ghouls live here?” asked Aether, curious.

“It fluctuates, but several dozen ghouls at least call this place home. A few of my own kind too, although we are in the minority.”

“You say the number of ghouls changes,” Mountain spoke with caution in his tone, “does this mean if we chose to stay, we would be free to leave again as we choose?”

“Of course, of course! I would never want to hold any ghoul against their will.” Copia seemed appalled by the suggestion.

“And what payment would you expect if we do stay?”

“For now, nothing. The knowledge in your book that Dewdrop brought to us is more than valuable enough for you to stay here while your youngest recovers. However, if you choose to remain here long term you would be expected to help out in some small way, in the infirmary or the gardens or wherever you feel best suited.”

Dew couldn't blame them for confirming what he had told them. He hoped it would build their trust in the leader to have him acknowledge how life worked here.

“Sunshine here for example,” he patted her on her curly head as she vibrated nearby like an excited puppy, “is helping our Earth ghouls build a tropical climate greenhouse. It is a rare treat, to have a multi ghoul in our midst.” Copia looked at Swiss with a marvelling smile as he spoke.

“Also, I hear you have much experience in dealing with humankind. I understand you may not want to, given recent events,” he winced on their behalf, “but it is one of my goals to spread His message even further with the help of ghouls, His most magnificent creations. That is also a possibility for you to assist me with, if you choose.”

The ghouls shared a glance – none of them especially enamoured with humanity right now.

“Anyway! Come, come. Let me show you how our work is going. We are almost done!”

Copia bustled back over towards the cluster of desks.

“Why did he greet us like we're royalty?” muttered Swiss in Dew's ear as they followed, loud enough for Mountain and Aether to hear, but no one else.

“It's just his way,” Dew murmured back, “he thinks ghouls are the physical manifestation of His Unholiness, and it means we can get away with murder here, sometimes literally.”

They stopped behind an earth ghoul at one of the desks, carefully inking a leafy plant. It was a near-perfect copy of Mountain's own drawing but the lines lacked the organic fluidity and familiarity of the shape Mountain had so easily rendered. Two more ghouls had the book itself open between them, squinting at the tiny text, roughly scribbling it down onto separate sheets for yet other ghouls, Mist included, to write up neatly onto pages to be bound later.

“As you see, we have a very efficient system to ensure we can return original texts that fall into our hands to their rightful owners as soon as possible.” Copia explained. “I am creating the cover to bind it, imbuing it with prayers for longevity in the hope that it may last many generations beyond me.”

As Aether leaned forward over the vacant seat to see the page Mist had been working on, the library doors burst open again with a slam. The young quintessence ghoul they had seen the day before came running in, panting with exertion.

“It's Rain,” he gasped.

Dew took off running without waiting to hear more. Pushing past the quintessence ghoul, he paid no heed to if his packmates were following him or not. He tore along the corridor, the footfalls echoing in his ears blending with the pounding of his heartbeat. In front of the doors to the infirmary he skidded to a stop before throwing himself through them.

Rain was sat hunched over in bed, shaking and hyperventilating with eyes as wide as saucers. The acrid scent of panic filled the air as Dew raced to his side, recognising the signs of another nightmare instantly.

“Rain!” he cried, ignoring the hands that tried to stop him clambering onto the bed to hold the water ghoul. “Please wake up, none of it's real!”

Around him, the ghouls called instructions, Dew ignoring them all in favour of rocking Rain back and forth as his gasps turned into sobs when he woke. He pressed Rain's head to his chest, smothering him in comforting touches. Hands pulled at Dew, dragging him away from Rain so one of the attending ghouls could press their fingers to Rain's forehead, sedating him with a burst of quintosis.

[clown-friend-gt]

Up, Up, and Away: Chapter 2

Not much actual g/t in the chapters I posted today, but that will change soon. These chapters will set that up, don't worry!

Hopefully the Spanish in the chapter doesn't sound too odd to those who speak it. I took four semesters of Spanish in college, but I haven't used it since, and my ability to speak it has definitely suffered because of it lmao.

Link to Masterpost

************************************************************************

Growing Pains

1.2k words

The change started early morning one Friday. Trevor woke up because his whole body screamed with pain. His muscles felt strained, like he was on one of those medieval torture racks. Even his bones were sore.

He figured he should take something for the pain. But when he tried to move, he couldn’t. The slightest movement sent shocks of pain through him.

So for a while, he stayed as motionless as possible, tears streaming down his face. He tried to fall back asleep, but the pain made it impossible.

Finally, he worked up the courage to move. Groaning in pain, he slid out of bed and onto his feet. His legs shook unsteadily but managed to hold him up. He took one slow step and winced, his breath escaping him in a hiss.

He had to walk slowly; each step sent spikes of pain shooting up his leg. He knew his mom had to get up early for work, so he tried to stay quiet. But he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering with the effort it took just to move himself.

He made his way into the bathroom. In the low light he could just barely make out his reflection in the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. He looked just as miserable as he felt.

He opened the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of painkillers inside. Even opening the child-proof lid made him wince, his hand cramped instantly as he did so. He shook out two pills and swallowed them dry.

Once he was done in the bathroom, he shuffled back to his room. He grabbed his phone from the table next to his bed. His mom would be mad if she caught him on it this late, but he needed something to distract himself while he waited for the painkillers to kick in.

Eventually, the pain died down to a more tolerable level, and exhaustion pulled him back into a few more hours of sleep. Still, the time passed too quickly, and before he knew it, his alarm went off, telling him it was time to get up for school.

He’d never snoozed his alarm before, but today he really needed the extra sleep. This turned out to be a bad idea, though, because he couldn’t stop himself from hitting snooze the next time, and then the time after that, and so on. His mom eventually interrupted her own morning routine to get him up.

“Mijo, get up,” she said sternly.

He groaned sleepily in response. Still, he rolled over in bed and propped himself up. He drew in a pained breath as he did, and she didn’t miss it.

“¿Qué pasó?” she asked, gentler this time.

“Nothing,” he tried to lie.

His mom wasn’t buying it, and only responded by putting her hands on her hips and staring at him pointedly.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He didn’t want to worry her any.

He sat up with a grunt, but before he managed to stand, she was at his side.

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Ay, mijo, you’re burning up.”

“I’ll call the school, tell them you’re not feeling well,” she told him, standing up to grab her phone.

He wasn’t going to argue with that. He’d take an excuse to skip school any day.

“I’ll have to call out of work to take care of you, too.”

“No, don’t,” he said, stopping her.

“It’s fine. They can survive without me for one day.”

Trevor frowned. He wasn’t sure if that was true. She worked at a hospital, after all.

“I can take care of myself,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

She gave him a look, appraising the condition he was in. Finally she sighed.

“Fine. There’s medicine in the bathroom and food in the fridge. Make sure you eat something today.”

Then she walked back to his side and planted a kiss on his forehead, and he was too tired to try and resist. “Te amo,” she said.

“Te amo,” he replied weakly. She gave him a smile that didn’t hide the worry in her eyes. Then she left him to roll over and go back to sleep.

The pain continued throughout the day. He slept for a few hours, then was woken up when the painkillers began to wear off. He repeated the same painful journey he’d taken earlier that day. This time, though, he kept the bottle with him so he wouldn’t have to do that again.

He laid down a little while longer before he had to wake up again, although this time, because of his stomach.

Despite his apparent illness, his appetite was seemingly unaffected. In fact, he found himself hungrier than usual. He moved around a little easier with the painkillers in his system, though the pain never really went away. He ate three packages of ramen for breakfast/lunch, then went back to bed.

When his mom got home that night, she fussed over him for a while, but otherwise, the day passed without incident. He spent the weekend bedridden, getting sleep when he could. The longer it went on, the more worried his mom seemed, and he hated that.

By Monday, the pain wasn’t gone. “You need to go to the doctor,” his mother told him.

“No, I’m fine,” he responded a little too quickly.

“Mijo, you’ve barely moved all weekend. You need to see a doctor.”

Trevor really didn’t want to put that kind of strain on her wallet, so he began to sit up. He did his best to hide his struggle.

“I’m feeling better,” he lied. “Look, I’ll even go to school today.”

He got up and went to his dresser to pick out some clothes. His mom looked like she wanted to argue, so he added, “Can you leave for now, please? I need to change.”

She sighed but left the room. Although he had lied about feeling better, he was getting more used to the pain as time went on.

He picked out some clothes without giving it much thought. Then he put them on, although felt a little small on him. He tried some other clothes but had the same problem.

Must have shrunk in the wash, he thought to himself.

Once he was dressed, he went to the kitchen to make himself toast for breakfast. His mom watched him warily the entire time. She wore a frown on her face, but said nothing to him throughout. Just as he thought he was in the clear, she spoke.

“Stand up straight,” she said, walking towards him. He obliged, straightening himself up from his slouched position. She inspected him carefully.

When she spoke again, her tone was lighter. “Since when are you taller than me?”

“Huh?” he asked, but looking closely, he could tell that she was right. Where before he’d been a little below her eye level, he now stood slightly above.

“You must’ve grown three-or-so inches in as many days,” she said. “That’s some growth spurt. No wonder you were so sore.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he agreed. After that, she seemed content to leave him be as he got ready. Finding the cause seemed to put her at ease, to Trevor’s relief.

Though it kept him from telling her that whatever was happening to him was far from over.

First/Next

[alovesongtheywrote]

OTL waiting for the fluff to return 😭 obviously take your time though omg, i’ve started writing again myself and this shit is hard work but the spencer angst is killing me dead 😫

♥ Summary:  The fluff is returning! Slowly! In this chapter of nightmare academia, Spencer goes to the hospital, and you fill out paperwork. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: hospitals, guilt, alcohol mention

♥ A/N: here's a slower chapter, just so we can process the whole. stabbing incident.

♥ Word Count: 1367

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

You fucking hated hospitals.  It was the lighting.  Goddamned fluorescents.  

After Spencer had been whisked away by the paramedics, you remained at the university for a few more hours.  You called Garcia, like he’d asked, and even though you told her not to worry, she told you to expect her presence by the end of the day.  You’d wanted to head over to the hospital as soon as you hung up the phone, but you were held back.  The police wanted to speak with you.  Joy.  Then, there were forms for you to fill out.  Turns out it’s hard to have a violent incident in your office without paperwork miraculously appearing on your desk.

By the time you actually made it to the hospital, the sun was going down.  You made your way through the long hallways lit by shitty fucking fluorescents until you found who you were looking for.  Reid was fast asleep, surrounded by the soft beeping of various machines.  

Honestly, he probably needed the sleep.  His lips were still chapped, and the dark bags beneath his eyes looked darker beneath the cruel lights of the hospital.  He looked so still, so lifeless like this- and you fucking hated it.  You needed him to be awake.  You needed him to tell you some obscure hospital facts.  You needed to know that he would be okay.

You moved through the room silently, taking a seat next to him without making a sound.  You sat there for hours, listening to him breathe- listening to the beeps of various machines that promised you he was alive.  You wished that he was awake to make that promise himself.

Occasionally, his fingers would twitch, but he didn’t move.  He just slept peacefully while you experienced immense torment at his side.  Eventually, you took one of his hands in yours- and god fucking damnit did he have nice hands.  His fingers were long and thick.  The back of his hands were decorated with veins.  There were bloodstains beneath his nails.  Part of you wanted to hold onto his hand and never let go.  You tried to ignore that part.

You tried to ignore most parts of yourself, honestly.  You were trying to ignore the parts of you that felt guilty about the stabbing.  You were trying to ignore the parts of you that knew this was your fault.  You were trying to ignore how devastated you were, how distraught the image of Reid in a hospital bed made you.

You were doing a terrible job.

With a sigh, you let yourself slump over in your chair.  You shifted against the vinyl seat, trying and failing to get comfortable.  How could you be comfortable?  Your mortal enemy/friend/stupidly attractive coworker got stabbed because of you.

Now what could you do?

Your eyes roamed over Reid’s body.  You drew in a sharp breath.  

You didn’t know that Spencer could hear you.

He’d been awake for a while.  A short while after his admission to the hospital, he pretended to fall asleep.  Part of it was him actually trying to sleep.  The other part of it was avoiding conversation.  When he heard you come in, he assumed you were a nurse or doctor.  Then you took his hand.

Now he knew it was you.  He was desperate to open his eyes and see your face.  He wanted to squeeze your hand and make sure that you were okay.  He wanted to do a lot of things, but he kept still.  He wasn’t sure you would stay if he moved.  He wasn’t sure you would say what you wanted to.

He lay there, motionless, listening to the sound of your voice and gazing into the darkness behind his eyelids.

He’d missed you.  It had only been a few hours, but somehow, he’d missed you.

“Hey, Reid,” you kept your voice whisper quiet, “It’s me.  Sorry I’m late, I got held up back at work.  You know how violent incidents are.  They generate paperwork like crazy.”

You weren’t wrong.  You weren’t wrong in the slightest.  You paused for a moment, and Spencer could hear your soft breaths over the beeping of all the damn machines around him.  He could hear you trying your best to control your emotions, to keep from crying.  You weren’t doing a great job.

“Hey, uh, thank you, by the way,” you cleared your throat, “For getting stabbed.  The cops weren’t listening to Missy.  She tried to report Jason before, but they, uh… they didn’t listen.  And I don’t think they would have listened to me, but now?  Now they’re paying attention.  And they’ll listen to you.”

He felt you squeeze his hand.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this.  I- god, I really- I didn’t want you to get hurt.  It- if anyone had gotten stabbed, it should have been me.”

No.  No, it should not have been you, Reid wanted to snap his eyes open and make you take that back.

“But hey, it was you, and now Jason’s gonna go away for a long time.  So… thank you.”

Reid didn’t say anything, but he thought, ‘You’re welcome.’

“And this isn’t forgiveness, just so you know!” you said, though your tone was very forgiving, “I’m still mad at you.  And you should be mad at me, too.  Not for being objectively right about how fucked up some of your friends are- not for that night, but… for telling you to die so many times that you almost tried it.”

That wasn’t why he’d done it.  You hadn’t made him try it.  He wanted to tell you, but he stayed silent.  He wanted to see what you said next.  He also wanted to squeeze your hand and tell you that this wasn’t your fault.

“Do me a favour, when you wake up,” you pressed your lips to his knuckles, “Be angrier with me.”

Reid had no fucking clue how he was going to do that.  He had no idea how he was supposed to get up and out of this bed and not make sure that you were okay.  

Your hand slipped out of his.  He could feel you placing it back over his chest.  Your touch lingered, even after you’d gone, and Spencer’s fingers flexed in the absence.  The room fell silent for a minute, and he was pretty sure that you’d left.  

He heard your voice again, by the door.

“By the way, I called Garcia like you told me to and uhhhh.  She’s coming here anyway, she’ll be here soon, okay bye.”

And then you were gone.

-

You ran into Garcia outside of the hospital.  She winced when she saw you and you couldn’t blame her.  You were sure you looked like shit.  Even if you didn’t, her friend had been stabbed because of you.  In her position, you probably would’ve thrown a few punches.

Garcia did not throw punches.  Instead, she placed a cautious hand on your arm, and she spoke to you kindly, and you felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“Hey Doctor Gorgeous, is everything okay?  I mean, of course everything isn’t okay, Reid got stabbed and you were in danger, but you, physically, how are you doing, are you okay?”

You gave her the best smile you could muster and placed a hand over hers, “Physically, I’m fine.  Mentally?  I’m planning on going home and getting drunk.  Thank you for asking, Penelope.”

She winced again, and this time, you could identify the emotion behind it.  You could see the sympathy, the pain in her eyes, you shared it.

“Y’know, if you want to, I’m gonna grab a coffee before I go see Spencer.  You can join me, if you want, instead of uh, drinking about this.”

You smiled, letting out a half-breath of a laugh and looking at the ground.

“That sounds like a good idea, actually.  Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Garcia’s smile was blinding.  She took you by the arm and led you to the coffee shop, talking about the reviews she’d seen for it the whole time.

You stayed with her until she went to see Spencer.  When you went home, you drank coffee instead of wine.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!!

[invisibleraven]

I tried SO HARD not to send a shower prompt with Reggie but... washing their hair for them for the Reggie pairing of your choice. SORRY NOT SORRY

"This sucks," Julie grumbled as she hobbled into the house. "I hate this. Stupid cast, stupid crutches."

"I know," Reggie replied, closing the door behind them. "But at least it wasn't any worse, we're lucky that way."

"I'm still sorry about your truck," Julie said, flopping down onto the couch, hissing as she lifted her leg onto the ottoman.

"Eh, I was hoping to get a new one eventually anyways," Reggie said, "Now I can, maybe get a nice family car or SUV."

"Not a sports car?" Julie joked.

Reggie laughed. "Like you'd let me."

"True." Julie stretched her arms up, trying to get comfy, but then wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, I stink, I need a shower."

"Well we gotta wrap your cast for that," Reggie said. "Are you gonna be okay to shower alone?"

Julie swore. "No, there's no safety rails and I really don't trust my balance right now. Maybe a bath?"

"I can be your safety rail," Reggie offered.

"Really?"

"You know I love showers," Reggie replied. "Especially with you."

"I don't think it'll be as fun as our usual joint showers-no funny business mister," Julie replied.

"Cross my heart, I'll even put on trunks if you want," Reggie replied, making a motion over his chest. "Now let me get a garbage bag."

Julie soon found herself leaning against the bathroom counter, leg wrapped, and ready to get some of the hospital stink off her. Reggie had rushed off to fins his trunks, as promised, making her promise that she wouldn't attempt to get into the shower without him, even as the bathroom was slowly starting to steam up.

"Come on before we go through all the hot water!"

A strange slapping sound came towards her and Julie had to burst out laughing when she saw Reggie, in his loudest swim trunks, a set of swim flippers, and a snorkel.

"You doofus."

He grinned before kicking the extra gear off, and helped her under the spray. "Anything to hear you laugh again."

Julie grinned, clutching onto his shoulders to keep steady. "So how are we doing this?"

"You hold on, I'll wash," Reggie stated, tipping her head back to soak her curls. He'd washed her hair enough times by now that Julie knew he'd be gentle-he liked helping her maintain her hair, volunteering every time she needed the full treatment.

Julie let her eyes fall closed as Reggie carefully added shampoo, massaging her scalp to get the product in and out, then adding conditioner. It felt divine, and relaxing, as it always did.

"No falling asleep," Reggie chuckled.

"So tempting though," Julie replied as he moved her out of the spray.

"Maybe next time we can do the bath, prop your leg up and you can nap," Reggie replied. "But for now, let's get you clean."

Usually when they showered together, Reggie took his time washing her, often kissing the skin as the suds ran away, leading to them having lots of fun under the spray-but not today. He knew standing was taxing on her, and her stamina was not as it was after being in a hospital bed.

This was less sensual and more methodical, making sure he ran the loofah over her as gently as he could, but still ensuring she got that deeply scrubbed sensation she needed after nothing but sponge baths for the past week or so.

Julie beamed at him as he got each spot, even though he was concentrating on cleaning her, it still felt like worship, like this was what it was to be loved. She never stopped thanking God, or whatever force in the universe was responsible for giving her this man.

"There, squeaky." Reggie grinned up at her, uncaring that the water was plastering his hair to his head, and Julie so wished she could kiss him. "Now, let's finish your hair, dry off, and what do you say to a nap?"

"Fully in favour of one," Julie replied, letting her body be oh so slowly turned back under the spray, her head manipulated this way and that as Reggie worked out the conditioner.

Soon enough the shower was over, and Julie was sure she fell even deeper in love as Reggie towelled her off with the utmost care, scrunching her curls just like she taught him before braiding her hair and wrapping it in the silk scarf she liked to use to sleep.

He was a bit less tender on himself, towelling off quickly, and tossing the trunks over the edge of the tub to dry before he got the garbage bag off her leg. Then helped her move to the bedroom , putting them both in comfy lounge clothes, fetching her crutches only after Julie was tucked into the fresh sheets.

He even had her painkillers and a glass of water ready for her-seriously, what a man!

"You nap, I'm gonna make us something yummy for supper," Reggie said, kissing her forehead.

"You're not staying?" Julie asked around a yawn.

"You know my octopus like tendencies," Reggie replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't wanna jostle your leg."

"I miss cuddles," Julie admitted. "Please stay, just until I fall asleep?"

And well, Reggie was powerless to say no, slipping in beside her, pulling her uninjured side in close, and kissing her temple. "Love you darlin'."

"Yo también te amo."

And with that, feeling clean, loved, and the fuzziness from the fading pain, Julie slept, knowing that Reggie would be there, snoring away when she woke up.

[edgessunflower]

Someone I love hurting

For @alyyaanna

Pairing: Damian Priest x Fem reader

Description: Damian tells you what hurts him the most after he finds you crying

You felt exhausted after walking in your home, you sit on your couch not even caring to change out of your scrubs from working at the hospital. You had taken care of a lot of sick people and had lost three patients that you grew a bond with, one of them was a 12 year old girl that had problems with her kidneys and eventually went into a coma that she never came out of which shattered your heart when you watched her parents take her off life support making you run outside, throw up next to a tree, and break down that you couldn't help her, you cried as you hold your face in your hands as the quiet cries turned into sobs even almost falling over from how your body was shaking. You didn't hear your boyfriend walk in from how loud you were crying, not even knowing he was home until he gently walked to you and moved your hands away from your tear covered face "Mariposa what's wrong?" you are pulled into his arms as you slowly explained everything that had happened to him, he feels like someone was stabbing his heart as he holds you tightly as you sob in his chest "It hurts.." he looks at you while using his thumbs to wipe your face "What does mi vida?" you lean into his palm as he caresses your face "Not being able to help people... especially those I grow a bond with or love" he kisses your forehead as your cries turn to sniffles and lay your head in the crook of his neck. You feel your body melt as he rubs circles with his hands on your back noticing his eyes were teary "Baby you okay?" he shows a small smile as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes "It just hurts" he sniffles as tears flow down his face which makes you concerned "What honey? Are you in pain?" he shakes his head as he gently holds your face in his hands "No...seeing someone I love hurting hurts me" your foreheads connect before sharing a slow and loving kiss before laying back down and the both of you just talk while holding each other in between the calm silence and the slow and warm touches on your back and his chest until you both got up and made dinner together, you wrap your arms around him as you laid down in bed "I love you" he smiles as he holds you closely and tightly to him, placing a kiss on your head as his heartbeat lulls you to sleep "I love you mi mundo" he continues caressing your face and side until he fell asleep.