#but shes there to soothe his agonies at least

[kissingarthurclaus]

Toshi is beyond the help of any kind of healing power that my self insert possesses, but it does ease the chronic pain he's in for a short time! He often visits for 'pick-me-ups' throughout the day, and sometimes she gives him tea enhanced with her magic potion. As a gesture of her friendship and platonic love for him :)

Bonus Izuku and Ochako witnessing this ♡

He's just as dense as his dad (Toshinori 💖💖💖)

@self-ships-ahoy @jetiimooniverse (I hope it's cool to tag yall ur my mha moots rn)

[thelov3lybookworm]

My World

Day 1: Cool quiet.

Summary: Y/n's in labour. Azriel needs to stay calm.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 805

Warnings: labour ig? azzie being scared and sad cus yn is in pain :(

A/n: HAPPY DAY 1 OF @azrielappreciationweek YALL WOOHOOOO 🥳

all fics in the week will be like a series cus theyre all revolving around azzie and his daughter hehe but it isnt a series ig?

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Rhysand did not see the shift in his spymaster. Did not see the way he stiffened, the way his eyes went distant before focusing again, fist clenched.

He said no words, nothing to indicate he knew his mate was going into labour. And if the meeting with Keir had not ended when it had and Azriel hadn’t immediately winnowed away without preamble, Rhys wouldn’t have even known.

Even when Rhysand and Cassian followed their brother to his house on the outskirts of Velaris, welcomed by agonising screams of Azriel’s mate, Rhysand saw him stand quietly in the hallway.

Rhysand could not fathom being that cool, that quiet if he knew Feyre was in labour.

He had to give it to Azriel, the male was great at hiding his weaknesses. And Rhysand would have been convinced he was still composed had he not seen that in the dark corridor, light glinted off of the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Azriel still did not move, standing still against the wall with his hands folded behind his back.

It shook Rhys more than him pacing and losing his mind would have.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to curse himself out loud. After all, he was the reason his darling mate was going through the pain of birth.

Should’ve resisted when she said she wanted kids.

But alas, it was now too late to do anything but stand here helpless as he heard her loud cries of pain from their bedroom.

"I- Azriel! Az-"

It took all Azriel had in him to stand outside while his mate, his wife went through unbearable pain he knew he could not even fathom of. Having your privates stretched while you had to push out a literal being was something he knew his worst wounds would look like paper cuts in comparison.

It made him respect females more at the moment.

Through the bond, he felt flashes of hot agony and cold pain, but he was aware it was nothing, nothing compared to what his mate was going through.

The door opened the slightest bit, the worried eyes of an apprentice healer peeking out. "Spymaster? Madja said you can come in to soothe your mate."

Instantly, Azriel was hurrying inside the room, his eyes finding his mate lying on the bed.

Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm.

But how could he, seeing as the one person he could ruin the world for, was sobbing, tears running down her face in constant streams, aided by the sweat gathering on her skin?

He hurried over to her side, her palm instantly finding his.

"My love, I’m here."

She gasped in pain, nails digging into his palm.

Cool. Stay cool. It will be fine.

"Just one more push dear, then you can rest."

Azriel turned his head to Madja when she said that, relief spreading through his veins. At least the torture Y/n was going through would be over soon.

Y/n nodded, meeting Azriel’s eyes. Even while she was pushing out their baby, she found it in herself to offer him a weak smile.

Be calm.

Not even a moment after Y/n dropped back down on the bed with an exhausted sigh, loud cries filled the room. Azriel leaned down, placing his forehead against his mate’s. She smiled up at him, her eyes tired.

"No more babies. Y/n, I’m telling you, I cannot see you in pain."

Y/n had the audacity to pout. "But what if our baby gets lonely?"

He shook his head, kissing Y/n’s cheek. "I won’t let them get lonely."

He straightened when he heard footsteps approaching, lifting his head to look at Madja, who grinned at them over the baby’s head. "It’s a daughter."

Tears gathered in Azriel’s eyes as Madja leaned down, his daughter’s face coming into view for the first time. Azriel could not look away.

She’s beautiful.

Her eyes are so pretty.

She stared back at him with wide eyes.

Don’t cry. Stay calm. Stay quiet.

Fuck calm. Fuck quiet.

He let the tears fall as Y/n placed a hand on his arm, telling him to take his daughter. And even though he did not want to taint the pure soul made of him and his beloved, he extended his arms. Y/n had had the time of months to scold and train Azriel to not be scared of his own child.

The moment Madja stepped out of their room, Azriel let out an involuntary sob, accompanied by a look in his mate’s direction, who was crying too.

"I love her so much."

She nodded, giggling. "Me too." After a pause, she continued. "Hazel. That’s what we decided."

He nodded, unable to look away as he leaned down to press his lips to her tiny forehead.

"My world."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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@okaytrashpanda

[emmyrosee]

She got her quiet sneaking in from you.

Kenma’s fingers tap roughly on the controller in his hands, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in focus. He’s died four times to this monster, its shrieks of agony scaring him once embarrassingly in front of his chat, the other three deaths because, now that he’s past being scared, Kenma realizes what a damn hard boss this is.

“Chat, I’m telling you right now, if I see this dev in the streets, I’m taking a crowbar to their knee caps- this is a promise, not a warniIIIIIIING!”

He lurches from the gentle tug of his elbow, heart sinking to his chest in complete fear and acceptance that this is it for him, he’s dead. His arm is ripped away from the source, but when he hears a tiny gasp in fear, Kenma’s heart beats calmly again.

“Daddy okay?” Maesi asks, and kenma pauses the game to turn to her.

“You startled me baby,” he teases, and she blocks up at him with doe eyes to coax him to forgive her. As if she really needs to do that. “But what’s up beautiful?” He asks, putting down his controller and stretching. “How are you, angel?”

Maesi hums and passes her father the plate, her eyes peering up at him timidly- a trait he wants to blame on you, but every time, he’s met with a cocked eyebrow from you. “Want french fry?”

Kenma chuckles and nods, “I mean, you know I’m never gonna say no to fries,” he says, reaching down to grab the lukewarm fry from her tiny plastic plate. God knows how long they’ve been out, at least four hours; but that doesn’t stop kenma from letting his little girl take care of him in her own way. “You wanna be in daddy’s stream? Say hi to chat?” When she nods, Kenma lifts her up and into his lap, and once done, he reaches over to pick up another fry. In his headphones, Kenma hears that he got a donation.

Thank you kuroosassscheek for gifted 75 subs: hey Kenma there’s something behind you

“Thank you, Kuroo,” he scoffs. “Spawn, say hi to chat and uncle Tetsu.”

“Hi chat, hi uncle Tetsu,” she hums shyly, and Kenma kisses her temple around his chewing. “What playin’?”

“Daddy’s playing a scaaaary game,” he says, voice hiked slightly while he gasps. Maesi giggles before passing him another fry, which he takes quickly.

“Gonna have nightmare,” she warns.

Kenma raises his brows in agreement, “mommy’s gonna have to tuck me in.”

“Me too,” she mumbles, curling into Kenma’s hoodie, nose burrowing into his neck and tickling his skin slightly. “Play Star Valley?” She asks.

He hugs her tightly with a fake groan of effort, and she giggles happily, “you want to watch daddy play Stardew Valley?”

“Yeah..”

“Does mumma know you’re in here?”

Maesi is quiet- he chuckles and shakes his head, letting her get comfortable against him. He knows you’re not far, probably asleep on the couch, and Kenma prepares himself to potentially have to carry his two sleeping babies to bed.

“Alright- one second chat,” he says simply, grabbing his controller to change the game to the easy, calming game Maesi loves to watch him play. “We’ll pick that up tomorrow. Gotta protect myself from nightmares.”

Once again, Maesi lets out a little laugh; she tucks her face as close as she can to him, only shifting to grab another fry to munch on. He tips his head slightly again, to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, the soothing music in his headphones gets placed on her head, and before kenma can start any of his tasks, he feels Maesi’s breathing even out, her plate of fries and nuggets placed somewhere on the desk for him to take.

And that’s okay. He’ll play for a while, just in case she wakes up, and he’ll let her sleep in confidence in her fathers arms. Kenma’s pleased as the numbers in his stream doesn’t immediately drop: it stays, even now as it’s been hijacked by the one he loves most.

This 🥺🩷

[erodasfishtacos]

The Stranger & The Thief (roommate!abo)

prompt: YN needs a roommate but has never been around alphas. Harry is the alpha her parents warned her about.

word count: 9.6k+

author’s note: hii guys. enjoy there is currently six more parts up of this series on my patreon which you can join for $3USD!

+++++++++++++++

YN didn’t mind alphas.

Not at all.

YN had grown up in a solely beta household which meant out of all of her family, she was the only omega.

It was difficult growing up, trying to figure out all the intricacies of her secondary gender when her family had no idea what any of it was or what it meant.

Heat was something that had been tortuous to figure out because she did that completely on her own.

All her parents could do was put food and water outside the locked bedroom door periodically as the heat, the pain, the agony persisted for at least five days before she started to feel relief.

A depression always followed for another week.

Then anxiety would start to consistently hurt her chest in the week leading up to her heat because her body is dreading the impending doom, of being dragged through the cycle with nothing that seemed to soothe the ache for her.

YN logically knew the solution would be an alpha, an alpha would be able to solve the problems that she was able to figure out on her own, in the privacy of her bedroom.

However, she grew up in a community that was mostly consisting of betas and omegas, there were a few alphas but none that would have been an option for YN.

Alphas intimidated her.

They were aggressive, demanding, dominant whereas she grew up around betas and omegas who were nurturing, empathic, patient.

It was two different worlds and though her parents did not speak down on alphas, that had made it clear that they felt like YN should settle for a nice beta.

YN never thought anything of it.

She did not crave an alpha.

Well…only during her heats but outside of that, there was no desire to mate with one.

All of her partners up until this point had been betas, that had been just fine for her, none of them were too serious.

The closest she got to a serious relationship was Tate, a gentle beta who was nice, thoughtful, and everything YN thought that she wanted in a partner.

It had been going strong for a few months when her heat had hit.

Tate had come over to offer assistance like they had previously discussed but it had not worked out well at all.

+

YN was embarrassed, she knew she had to face her boyfriend sooner or later, and she put it off for two more days after her heat.

They met at the coffee shop that was an even distance between their apartments.

Tate’s demeanor was off from the minute he sat down, he refused to look at YN directly in the eye, and he didn’t reach out to hold her hand across the table like he normally did anytime that they were out together.

He was the one who spoke first, “This isn’t going to work out.”

YN’s eyes widen in utter disbelief, things had been going so well up until her heat, “Tate, you cannot be serious. I…I’m sorry I acted that way but I did not know that was how I was going to react! We…I won’t ask you to help me out again but we don’t have to break up over it.”

Tate laughs without any humor, “I truly never thought you were a knot-snob.”

YN tenses at the derogatory term, it felt venomous coming out of his mouth, “Why would you say that? I’ve never even been interested in an alpha!”

He shakes his head, lips curling upwards in the slightest, “Really? Because I came over to help you, brought groceries, other things to help take care of you, and when I walked into the bedroom, you growled at me like you were feral.”

YN swallows harshly, she remembers, very vaguely and almost through a fog but she knows what he is saying is truthful.

“You demanded I leave because I was a ‘poor excuse of a man’ because I was a beta,” Tate’s anger cracks into something more devastated which made her feel awful because that was never her intention to hurt him, she would never purposely do that, “You said that I must be delusional to think I could satisfy you. Only an alpha could.”

YN knows there’s tears brimming at her eyes, she was aware of how nasty she had been to him, didn’t fully remember everything she had said but she did believe him about what he was repeating because it’s what went through her mind.

She remembers feeling disgust at seeing him, none of that love she normally has for him was present in her mind at the time, just pure anger that a beta thought that they could please her.

“We just don’t have to spend my heat together, Tate,” YN tries, she truly liked him, loved him as a friend, and saw potential in loving him as a partner.

Tate scoffs, self-deprecating as he finally meets her eye, “I will never be enough for you, YN. I know you weren’t in your right headspace when I came over but your nature made it very clear that you would never be satisfied in our relationship.”

He takes a deep breath, “You…You were a whole different person when I came to you. I thought omegas were supposed to be sweet, pliant, and gentle during their heats. You were agitated, aggressive, and hostile in a way that truly frightened me.”

“Tate, please,” YN reaches for his hand but he retracts it instinctually back onto his lap.

“I…I am not doing this because I want it to be like this. I saw a future with you, truly, I did. I…I really think that you should be with an alpha because it’d be unfair for you and the beta if you continue to date them,” Tate sighs as he gathers his coat, he does have that same gentleness when he gives her a soft smile, “I do wish you the best of luck, YN.”

++

YN had curled in on herself after that, tucked away into a shell, and has been in there ever since.

It’s been about six month since she’d broken up with Tate and she had made the mistake of asking another beta for help during her heat, it was friend who knew what they were in for but she just had to really make sure that it was unsafe for her to be with a beta before she ruled them out of her dating life.

++

YN was only on the precipice of her heat, hoping that if the beta came while she was still more cognizant that it would go more smoothly.

That turned out to be an absolute mistake.

Trevor was coming with the idea that he may need to leave within a few minutes of being there or he could be staying for the length of her heat depending on how it would go.

She had given him the key to get into her apartment so that he didn’t have to wait around for her to answer the door.

YN unfortunately remembers the events that transpire but even though she was aware during their interaction, she felt out of control of her body as she typically did in heat where she couldn’t stop herself from reacting as her wolf mind wanted her to.

“YN? Are you alright? I’m here,” Trevor calls out, smiling when YN appears in the small hallway of the apartment, “Oh hey, sorry I was late but there was a line at the store -”

YN’s eyes are wild, unfocused, and her hair is already messy from rolling around in her nest that she had spent time meticulously building as she started to fall into her heat, “Get the fuck out.”

“YN, listen we talked about -” Trevor begins easily, undeterred at first by her words.

“What? Do you think that you’re going to help me through this heat?” YN laughs meanly, shaking her head with a sharp, cruel smile, “I can smell you. What a weak fucking scent. A beta comes into my home like they can satisfy my heat. You are a joke to think you could give me what an alpha could.”

Trevor swallowed harshly, trying not to let the words hurt his feelings, his masculinity, the security he typically felt in his secondary gender but YN’s words were meant to gnaw at his insides, make him question himself.

“YN,” Trevor replies firmer, standing a bit straighter despite his hands trembling.

“Beta,” She replies but it rolls off her tongue like an insult, “You are nothing to me. You think I would want pups from a weak fucking beta? I’d rather never have a knot in my life than the little you have to offer me. You will never be my alpha.”

Trevor has to bite back the insulting name he would want to call her, knowing that that wouldn’t be helpful but also that him being here was not going to be helpful nor did he want to stay because he was worried she was about to rip his throat out.

He shakes his head, a sour taste in his mouth at the rejection of the omega, he had already been insecure in comparison to the alphas around him.

However, he had a crush on YN, he was stupid for thinking that she would magically be okay with him supporting her through her heat, and now he was realizing that was an absolute mistake because he felt worse than he ever as has before.

In the moment, that was her goal to make him feel that he was less than and she had succeeded.

“I’m just going to leave,” Trevor tells her as he turns towards the door, his bottom lip was quivering as he hangs his head, trying desperately to rationalize this, this wasn’t the kind, sweet, YN that he normally knew, this was feral at best.

“Good,” YN coos as she stands defensively in the door, her eyes were darker than Trevor had ever seen them and the smile on her face wasn’t one that relayed friendliness, it was like she was about to downright murder him.

Trevor has never moved so fast in his life.

++

YN was lucid enough during that to understand why Trevor avoided her like the plague after that, never returning her texts, and the one time she ran into him at the gas station, well he acted like he’d never seen her a day in his life.

She held no blame or ill-will, the things she said were nasty, cruel, and unlike her normal character but it wasn’t an excuse.

YN sent him a few long messages detailing how sorry she was, how she regretted putting him in that situation because she valued him as a friend but they all got left on read.

After that, she stopped trying to find anyone to help her with her heat.

She deleted her dating apps and pushed off the idea of finding someone else.

YN also went to the doctor for her erratic behavior during these times.

“Heat-Induced Aggression and Rage Disorder,” The doctor had told her simply, unphased by her explanation of her symptoms, “Most omegas can spend their cycle with any secondary gender, even other omegas. However, the disorder occurs when an omega requires an alpha and will become aggressive when a beta or an omega attempts to help.”

“How do I solve it?” YN asks desperately, this meant that she would never be able to spend her heat with someone and she couldn’t possibly imagine actually being with an alpha, she’d never been around one, really.

YN, of course, came in contact with alphas on the day-to-day, it wasn’t like they were rare.

It was that she didn’t have any friends, coworkers, or connections to alphas because she was in such a densely populated beta area before moving to the city after she graduated college.

“You need to find an alpha who’s willing to spend your heats with you or continue to spend you heats alone,” The doctor shrugs without any better explanation, “Unless you wish to take medication to completely stop your cycle but that has major medical risks that I would advise against, especially if you ever wish to have children.”

++

That’s where YN is at, with a disorder that doesn’t have a treatment that sounds remotely reasonable to her.

Searching whether in person or online for an alpha partner was extremely unsafe which meant that she had resorted to the fact that she would forever spend her heats alone, in pain.

It made her jealous when her omega friends bragged about how enjoyable, how blissful their heats were spent with their partners.

YN wishes she loved hers but instead, she finds herself thinking death sounds more pleasurable than forever spending five days locked in her bedroom by herself, a slave to her own nature with no help from anyone.

++ a year later ++

YN was going to pull her hair out, it was official because why was it so hard to find someone who appeared somewhat normal to fill the empty bedroom in her apartment?

For the last three years, YN had lived in peaceful harmony with her beta friend, Eileen.

Eileen had started dating her girlfriend, Regina, right after they moved in together.

Two weeks ago, Eileen had let YN know that she was moving out and in with Regina after their recent engagement which meant that she no longer had any income to help her with the rent nor the utilities in less than a month.

YN could technically afford everything on her own, the lease was in her name but it made money tight enough that she had to budget down to the dollar which she despised doing - it was much more manageable when she had someone splitting the bills with her.

And because she would rather not have to cut back on her frivolous spending like her unreasonable expensive smoothies and sure, maybe everytime she sees a pair of socks that look exceptionally comfy she feels the need to buy them.

However, after a third interview with a potential flatmate, YN thought that this may be an impossible task and she should already start her budgeting because there had been issues with all three interviewees.

The first, beta, needed the bathroom from six to nine pm with no explanation as to why.

The second, an omega, stated that she would need to be able to conduct an in-person yoga lesson with six people every other day in their living room.

The third, another beta, demanded that they split the fridge storage fifty-fifty because their last roommate put milk on their shelf of the fridge which they defined as a ‘personal attack’ because they were vegan.

So hopeless is where she found herself after that third beta.

That’s where Niall comes in, her lovely lovely beta friend who sometimes she worries has rocks for brain and other times he’s absolutely the most brilliant being to ever walk the earth, it just honestly depends on the day.

However, she could kiss him when he arrives at her apartment with a bag of chinese takeout and something to solve all of her issues completely, “I have a mate from work who needs a place. He makes good money so I know he’d have no issue paying his part. He’s cool, I trust him enough to recommend him, I’ve worked with him for like six years.”

YN barely even hesitated, she trusted Niall enough to know that he wouldn’t have offered the solution if he didn’t think that it was a good option for her.

He does get sheepish halfway through, “I…I did forget to mention that he’s an alpha.”

YN pauses at that, narrowing her eyes at him because he definitely left that part out in the initial description.

“Niall-” YN begins to huff because it’s not that she totally objected but it was something for her to consider and he had just left that out.

“I know, I know,” Niall puts his hands up, “He’s cool though. He really keeps to himself. I know you’ve never been around alphas, let alone live with one but I really think it would be fine. Don’t you trust me? Plus, he really needs a place to stay.”

YN really should give it more thought.

“He just texted and said he’d be willing to pay three thirds of the rent,” Niall tells her as he looks down at his phone, “If he can move in as soon as possible. Plus he’ll cover internet and electric.”

YN really really should think on it.

She’d never been around an alpha, let alone lived with one, she needs to think about it, weigh the pros and cons.

“Tell him he can move in on Friday,” YN finds herself saying and before she can think better of it, Niall is quickly typing away on his phone and the text alert goes off.

“He said that works for him,” Niall gives her an oblivious thumbs up before picking back up his container of rice and clicking the movie back on like he didn’t just wheel and deal the quickest decision she’s ever made in her life.

She didn’t even ask his name.

++

YN typically isn’t this dumb.

She actually prided herself on her impulse control and rational thinking but as she flutters around the apartment on Friday evening, trying to make it as spotless as possible for her new flatmate, she really starts to question her own sanity.

YN realizes that she’s going to have to have serious conversations with this alpha about boundaries, what will they do when it comes to their cycles, and the thought that their scents will run rampant because they obviously won’t use neutralizers when they’re at home.

Niall had not given much more information beside the fact that his name was Harry, he was twenty-eight, and had a higher up position in the company than Niall so they didn’t always have much interaction, Niall had actually just overheard a conversation he was having on the phone.

YN finds out that he had lived on his own since college but after his landlord decided he was going to sell the house he was renting, Harry had to find somewhere else quickly, and that resulted in him moving in with a friend from university.

That friend was another alpha, which turned sour very after soon after moving in together.

Niall was a bit hesitant when he told her that the issue was Harry, not the other alpha.

Harry was territorial, more of the pack leader type, and it became apparent within days that Harry simply could not share a space with another virile alpha despite Harry forcing the other alpha to submit to him on multiple occasions, it didn’t matter.

Even though Niall assured her that it wouldn’t be an issue because she was an omega, it didn’t make her feel much better but she has too strong of a conscious to promise a place for Harry to stay to then to pull that away from him.

Of course, Niall, the twat, couldn’t make it over while Harry was moving in because he had to go to a family birthday dinner which meant that it would just be the two of them.

“It will just be time to get to know one another,” Niall chirped easily on the phone, unbothered and oblivious to the tension that was building in YN.

++

Harry was supposed to be here at six in the evening.

He quite literally knocks on the door at exactly six.

YN hesitates for a moment before opening the door, her heart was beating unusually fast, and when she opens it, it begins to pump even faster.

The man standing in front of her was clearly an alpha without her even knowing this information before hand.

It was interwoven into every aspect of his being, in a way that could be seen physically but on the other hand, it was unspoken, she couldn’t quite describe it but he was exactly what she imagined an alpha to be.

All of him was defined, sharp from his jaw to his nose to his arms.

His shoulders were broad enough that YN wondered if he could even fit through the doorway without squeezing them inward.

He was tall, taller than she had imagined him, and that added with his width and the pure heft of his bulky but lean muscles - he was fucking intimidating and could hurt her without a shadow of a doubt, she’d be defensless.

This is a bad idea.

YN should tell him he can’t move in.

Her parents raised her better than to let a six foot something, very capable alpha in her home to share with her without knowing anything about him.

The fact of the matter was, he did not even look friendly.

Some alphas were like golden retrievers, easy going and a bit airheaded.

Harry was the stark opposite end of that.

The type of alpha that people avoid because of how dangerous they can be.

If YN was walking down the sidewalk and he was walking towards her, she would without a doubt cross the road to avoid bumping into him but yet, she was welcoming him into her house and something within her felt like this was a good idea.

Her inner omega that is.

Who we all know craves an alpha like water and air.

She pushes that down, as much as possible when she notices how big his hands are and how they would look holding her hips -

He has a frown on his face, the light wrinkles it causes shows YN that he has that expression quite often as he looks at her with a mixture of boredom and exasperation, he should be so fucking friendly because of how much YN is overextending to help him.

He isn’t.

After a moment, YN realizes she’d been staring at him dumbly and has yet to introduce herself.

“YN?” Harry finally asks and his voice is deep, only like an alpha’s can be, no beta could even imitate the vibrato of that tone.

“Yeah, uh, come in?” YN’s voice is higher pitched than she’d prefer as she steps aside, her greeting coming out much more like a question than a statement.

Harry blinks dully at her, a backpack over his shoulder and a few boxes next to his feet, “If you do not want me to come in, just say it. If me being an alpha or a guy is too much, tell me now before I move all my fuckin’ stuff in. I don’t like playing these back and forth games.”

YN is startled by his attitude, she can’t recall a time when anyone has ever talked to her so bluntly or without politeness which again, inherently an alpha thing but it still had her off kilter a bit as his face doesn’t change.

“No, sorry, yeah. You can bring your stuff in, I haven’t changed my mind,” YN steps further back into the apartment, spreading her arms, “This is it. Sorry, I know it isn’t much but I guess a roof over your head is better than nothing.”

Harry doesn’t even bother to look around, doesn’t compliment the comfy furniture or the cute little decorations, “It’s fine. Where’s my room?”

YN knows her smile falls when she realizes this is going exceptionally worse than she had already been dreading, which means that she leads him around the apartment, showing him the bathroom, laundry, linen closet, and then to his room as he remains completely silent.

When he goes to begin to bring his few boxes in, YN moves to pick one up to help but he stops her abruptly, voice firm and demanding,  “No. Put that down.”

YN’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline, “Sorry!” She apologizes for the millionth time in less than thirty minutes, “I was just trying to be helpful.”

Harry snarls his lip in the slightest,  “Am I the alpha or are you?”

YN’s swallows harshly, voice small, “You are.”

“Right. I am the alpha, I will move the heavy boxes, I will unpack. It is my job, not yours,” Harry tells her as he brushes past her to deposit the box into his room before coming out for the next one without anything else to say.

YN should probably stand her ground, set those firm boundaries but she doesn’t, instead she hides out in her room with her cat, Beatrice, (who was also hiding from the unknown visitor) and does not plan to come out until tomorrow morning or until he’s asleep.

But no, when it’s nearly ten at night, YN finally gathers enough courage to knock on his bedroom door to set the house rules, the boundaries because she couldn’t make Harry like her but they could at least be civil.

Or so she thought.

Harry answered the door after a minute, his shirt was off and he was just in a pair of joggers, there was stuff all over his room that he was obviously in the midst of organizing but it also looked worse before everything fit perfectly into place.

“What?” He asks impatiently, like he has a timeframe and YN is disrupting something major.

YN’s mind goes completely blank for a moment because for the first time since he came in, probably because it was night time and his morning scent neutralizers had worn off but she can smell his natural scent for the first time.

It was stronger because he didn’t have anything blocking his glands, his chest was heavily tattooed, and unfairly defined, looking as if he never spent a minute outside of the gym with muscles cut in places YN didn’t even know muscle existed.

His scent was…unlike anything that she had ever smelled in her life.

It was rich, deep, and dark.

It made her dizzy, sleepy, like she could fall into a trance of getting lost in it.

Thick, warm waves of it seemed to short-circuit her mind and make it hard for her to even remember what her purpose was of standing in front of him.

She had never reacted so strongly to scent in her life, never even noticed most of the time what others smelled like but this was seeping into her veins and she couldn’t quite get enough of it as she tried to subtly breathe it in as much as possible.

“What do you want?” Harry reiterates, louder and definitely more annoyed as he crosses his arms.

YN has to blink a few times before she’s shaking her head, “Uh, I just wanted to go over like….house rules? Anything you need from me? Boundaries? How can we operate around each other since we’re going to be living together?”

Harry jaw clenches, his nostrils flared, and he looks appalled.

YN realizes then that he must be able to smell her and by his reaction, he must absolutely hate her scent which made shame and mortification run through her body, of being rejected by this alpha was absolutely confidence crushing.

YN swallows down the whine.

Harry’s eyes trace up to her once, “Here’s the house rules, stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. I’m not looking for a friend. I’m only looking for a place to stay. Understood?”

YN’s mouth is dry, her brain is having a hard time focusing on the harshness of his words because his scent is flashing bright sparkles in her eyesight at the same time, “What about your rut? My heat?”

Harry’s eyes narrow, turning a bit predatory, dangerous for a moment before he’s replying, “I’m sure you have help. If you bring another beta or omega here, that will be fine. I will not bother you. Niall told me you do not typically associate with alphas.”

“Um, okay…That works,” YN lies because she really can’t have another omega or beta here but if she has too, maybe she can try again? Maybe if they come over while she’s not yet in her heat? She’ll have to think about that later, “Your rut?”

“I have it handled,” Harry replies defensively, stepping back and putting his hand on the doorknob, “Just give me a heads up beforehand so that I won’t be blindsided by coming home to the scent change but I will also communicate that with you.”

“Okay, that sounds good-”

The door is shut on her without her even being able to finish her sentence.

“Rude ass fucking alpha,” YN mutters under her breath as she shakes her head, when she plops on her bed, she may or may not scream into her pillow for a moment because she just got herself into a worse situation than she could imagine.

But yet it hasn’t once crossed her mind to kick him out.

Why?

She doesn’t have a clue.

++

YN does not see Harry once during the first two weeks of him living with her.

Not even a glimpse.

And YN would actually wonder if he still even lived here if she wasn’t constantly overwhelmed by his scent.

He must come out of his room once YN is asleep, she does not understand how it is so thick, cloying on every surface of her apartment.

The second you walk in, it hits you, and lets anybody who enters know that an alpha lives here, there would not even be a doubt.

YN vaguely finds herself wondering one night as she sits on her couch whether or not Harry had scent marked the apartment, claiming it as his territory.

She had heard alphas do that, especially when they live with their omega to show that their mate has an alpha who protects them and their home.

However, that’s not the case here, and YN is pretty sure that Harry doesn’t even remotely like her, let alone want to live here so why would he want to claim it?

She rules that out as a possibility, mostly, but when she wakes up in the morning and he had already left for the day, well she can’t help but notice as fucking beautiful her house smells.

YN only gets her heat every six months with the suppressant she’s on but the entire month leading up to it, she finds herself starting to get more rooted in her omega tendencies.

Harry had been living with her for fourish months by this point and nothing had changed since the beginning.

He didn’t use the living room, showered early before YN would wake up and was already gone, and stayed out of the kitchen before she would go to bed.

In the four months, the sightings had been few and far between and she realized that he meant it very literally when he said that he’ll stay out of her way if she stays out of his.

In the sparse times they’ve shared space, whether it was in the hallway or kitchen, Harry’s lip would always curl up and his nose twitched which always incited a bit of insecurity about her scent.

She had always gotten compliments on hers, how light and powdery it smelled like clean laundry spritzed with a hint of orange blossom and vanilla.

YN did not understand why it was so unappealing to the alpha but he was in for a rude awakening as the month leading up to her heat began.

Her scent got noticeably stronger, she felt the urge to scentmark more items in her apartment to claim that this was her home and safe space.

As expected, Harry didn’t say anything the day it all started to intensify.

And to be fair, he never said anything to her.

The closest thing she would get was a low grunt of greeting but despite that, she felt safe with him in her home, and never had any worry that she was in danger.

The alpha made her feel an overwhelming sense of security, in fact, that she had never felt with any beta or omega.

It wasn’t necessary that he was mean to her or treated her poorly, he just…was there.

He didn’t bring anyone home with him, never asked if he could have someone spend the night nor has she ever smelled any visitors either.

However, things really start to change in the beginning of October, the month before her heat would crest and peak before the cycle started all over again.

The first major change she would notice was the difficulty sleeping.

Normally, she slept better than most without typically ever having to get up in the middle of the night or any tossing and turning.

When October hit, it felt near impossible for her to fall asleep and then when she was so exhausted that she did end passing out, it wouldn’t be long before she was awake again which made her always feel like she needed a nap.

++

It was late for a weekday, the clock showing that it was close to midnight, and she had to be up for work at six in the morning but her body did not seem to get the memo because after attempting to sleep since ten, it had not been successful.

YN decided to give it some time before she laid back down again.

YN grabbed a bag of pretzels from the cupboard, gave Beatrice one of the squeeze tubes of tuna-flavored goop, and cuddled up on the couch in the living room.

Of course, nothing sounded good as she flipped through the options, and decided on a romantic comedy that didn’t really interest her but it was her best option to make her sleepy, even if it was from the boredom of a corny film.

YN was about thirty-five minutes in when she realized that the movie wasn’t a helpful tool to fall asleep because she was completely interested in the plot line and she was even more awake than before trying to follow the story.

It made her jump in the slightest when the lock turns in the front door before it’s being opened roughly as Harry walks into the small entryway, shutting the door behind him, and beginning to shuck his coat without even realizing she was sitting there.

She hears him grumpily mumble, “Always leaves the fuckin’ television on.”

Which, yeah, she does forget half the time and the other half she feels like Beatrice likes it on for comfort.

Harry looked worn down, tired, and as beautiful as ever.

He had a duffle over his shoulder that most likely held his work clothes and gym outfit because YN was quite sure that after he was down at his office, he went to the gym which he was at for quite a long time.

She vaguely remembers Niall saying that he boxes occasionally for money and that he trains daily which was a pretty brutal routine of working out before work and after work with no time for relaxation in between.

After he’s lined his shoes up neatly against the wall, (YN notices that he also does the same with her shoes that she had half-haphazardly kicked off when she came home from work), he walks into the living room.

It was obvious that he was going toward the television to shut it off but he lets out the lowest growl of surprise when he spots YN tucked deeply into the corner of the couch with a blanket tucked like a burrito around her.

And YN had never heard, in real life, an alpha growl before.

Instead of being scared, she felt the sudden urge to purr, which scared the absolute shit out of her because why the fuck would she want to purr? She’d only done that when she was a pup and never in her adult life.

Why would she want to do that when this alpha was obviously on edge to the point of growling.

“What are you doing?” Harry grunts, voice sharp and annoyed, nostrils flaring as he must take in her smell.

“I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies hesitantly, eyes darting back up to the screen and then to him because his gaze was so intense and accusatory - it was her house, she could be wherever she wanted when she wanted no matter what time.

“Why?” Harry follows up, his arms crossing over his chest, and making his biceps look unfairly big.

YN grits her teeth, debating on whether she wants to give him a snarky remark to mind his business but then she remembers that she has to live with him and would rather not have them on worse terms then they already seem to be on.

“I always have difficulty sleeping the month of my pre-heat,” YN shrugs, a little embarrassed to be talking about something so intimate with someone who likely did not want to hear anything about her personal life.

“Is that normal?” Harry’s brow furrows, not seeming to like her answer to his question.

YN swipes her tongue across her front teeth nervously, “Um, not really. I…I have a lot of issues regarding my heats and that is one of many. Yeah, I see a doctor but there’s only so much they can do, I guess.”

Harry nods in understanding, doesn’t ask anymore questions or even acknowledge her again as he goes about making himself something to eat before disappearing into his room without another word to her which she was used to by this point.

YN rewinds the movie at bit, she couldn’t really focus when Harry was in the vicinity, and his smell was so fucking overwhelming as he obviously hadn’t showered after the gym and was waiting until he got home.

It wasn’t a bad smell, neither of sweat or filth.

No, it was just that his already delicious smell was stronger, darker, and just encompassing every molecule of the apartment.

It takes her a moment to refocus her attention back on the screen and remember where she had left off, vaguely hearing the shower start to run before he’s shutting the door to his bedroom a little more roughly than a normal.

The plot takes a very unexpectant twist at the end and YN didn’t realize that this rom-com had a sad ending which she really wasn’t used to in most films like this.

After working through all the turmoil and drama that kept popping up for this couple, they finally get it right, and the alpha was about to propose to the omega when he got in a car accident, and ended up passing away.

YN doesn’t not even recognize that she is sobbing like an absolute baby until Harry is standing in front of her with a twitch of irritation in his jaw and only in a pair of joggers, nothing stopping her from seeing the bare, defined muscle of his upper half.

“Why are you crying?” Harry asks as he looks down at her, arms crossed yet again.

YN wipes her face with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie, tears tracks surely making her face puffy as she sits up, “It ha-had a really sad ending I wasn’t expecting,” YN nods up towards where the credit were rolling, “Th-The alpha dies and doesn't get to pro-propose.”

“That’s got you all worked up?” Harry sighs as he moves to grab the remote, flicking off the television and motioning for her to stand up, “You need to try to go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” YN nearly whines, making tears start again.

Oh, did she mention she gets unreasonably emotional during her pre-heat?

“Try,” Harry insists and he gently grabs her wrist, pulling her to her feet, “For both of our sakes, please just try to get some rest.”

YN frowns at that, why does it matter to him?

She hates that she feels disappointed when he lets go of her.

“Okay,” YN agrees as she shuffles her feet towards her bedroom, despising that despite how unfriendly the alpha is, she finds herself wanting comfort from him which…it just doesn’t make any sense and she pushes those thoughts to the very back of her mind.

YN veers off towards the bathroom first and by the time she turns to say goodnight, Harry’s already back in his room with the door shut, and she just ends up sighing before shutting the door of the bathroom to use it before she tries to sleep again.

As she sits down, she notices a pile of fabric in the corner near the sink, and out of curiosity once she’s done, she plucks it up and holds it out.

It was the shirt that Harry had been wearing when he came home, the one he worked out in, and it was absolutely drenched in that smell that made YN weak at the knees.

Harry was meticulously clean.

He never even left behind as much as a crumb of a sandwich and so seeing a shirt of his was unusual because it had never happened before.

YN has no excuse for her behavior, doesn’t really even consciously realize that she’s doing it until she’s back in her room with his shirt tucked up into her hoodie.

She pulls it out and pathetically enough, brings it to her nose where it just smells of alpha, comfort, security, and everything she could ever imagine

It feels wrong, invasive to his privacy almost, and she has never done anything like this in her life.

There was something that outweighed all those negative feelings because she finds that as soon as she lays down and tucks the shirt around her pillow to lay her face into, her eyes instantly become droopy and in no time, she’s out like a light.

+

YN tries to push the whole shirt incident out of her mind the next day, blaming it on her pre-heat haziness, and absolutely nothing else.

Logically, she knows she should return his shirt to him, at least tossing it in his hamper but his scent lingered for days afterwards and there was a direct correlation to how much better she had been sleeping since.

When the scent was completely gone, it was like clockwork that YN began to not be able to fall asleep.

It leads her to another night on the couch, another night of Harry coming in late, and being irritated that she was still awake.

“You were fine the last few nights,” Harry notes as his greeting, no ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’.

YN bites the corner of her lip, lowering the volume a tad on the television, “I know.”

“So why are you up right now?” Harry questions and god, are all alphas this blunt and impersonal or was it just this alpha in particular.

“Because I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies like it’s obvious.

Harry bares his teeth slightly, “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I told you, my pre-heat,” YN realizes that she’s getting a bit defensive because the real answer is much more mortifying and something she would never actually share with him.

He steps in, dropping his duffle unceremoniously, and walks closer to her.

Harry starts to speak slowly, precisely like he’s trying to get YN to understand, “I am not stupid. I understand that. I am asking you, what made you sleep the last few nights? You slept like a rock when I check-, when I walked past your room.”

YN shouldn’t react the way she does but she feels in a way that all the tension between them bubbles up.

Not to mention, it’s incredibly irritating to her how drawn her omega is to him, his scent, his presence, and she fucking hates it because he’s a dickhead.

“I don’t fuckin know, okay? Leave it alone. I’m allowed to be in my living room at whatever hour of the night I please without a fucking interregation,” YN snaps at him angrily, cursing when tears start to drip down her cheeks, and these hormones just sucked, amplifying every emotion she has ten-fold.

Harry lets out a low growl at that, just like the other night, and it doesn’t scare YN once again.

No, for some reason it makes her anger ebb just the slightest.

“Stop the attitude,” Harry replies evenly but his voice was deeper, “I was just checking in on you.”

Anyone else telling her to stop her attitude?

It would have escalated into a nasty fight.

YN instead just deflates, curling up further into her blanket, and covering her face because she just couldn’t get in control of the tears that were streaming down.

He must think she’s a lunatic.

Harry leaves her once again to go shower.

YN’s absolutely praying that he leaves a shirt rumbled on the floor again, despite how guilty that thought makes her feel.

She just wants sleep and for her hormones to even out.

YN feels a bit like a criminal when she goes to the bathroom, soon after Harry had went back out to make himself something for dinner, and there’s a massive disappointment in her stomach when the bathroom is as spotless as always.

She is craving the scent, she knows she can get another fix of it but it would definitely be in his hamper, in his room, and it’s such an invasion of privacy for her to go in there but then again, he’s frying something on the stovetop and he wouldn’t know…

YN’s never stolen in her life, not even gum or nail polish when she was younger, and it’s not even really stealing because she’ll give it back as soon as the scent wears off (but that’s not really true because she hasn’t returned his other shirt and has no intention of it).

She’s already opened his door, quickly scoping out the space, and realizing that his bedroom was the absolute fucking motherload of everything she could ever dream of.

If she thought their whole apartment smelled like him, his bedroom was if you bottled it in a jar, it was thicker, more cloying than ever, and she noticed a purring in her chest before she realized she was doing it and stopped.

If she was completely insane, she would try to grab as much as possible, until her arms are overflowing and she can’t carry out anything else without it falling.

But she’s not that far off the deep end that she did that, she felt creepy enough as she tiptoed over to his laundry hamper and snatched the shirt that was lying on top, the one that Harry had walked in the apartment wearing early.

YN wishes she could loiter a bit longer but that meant a higher chance that she was going to get caught.

She is surprisingly successful as she sneaks back into her room, proud that she now has two shirts to add to her nest.

YN always had a nest, it provided her comfort and security but she absolutely loved that she could intertwine the fabric together with her soft blankets.

This meant she was guaranteed a few more good night sleeps.

++

YN was running incredibly behind for work the next.

She had slept so well that she must have turned off her alarm instead of snoozing iit.

Because when she finally cracks her eyes open, the sun is breaking through her blinds, and her body knows that it is much later than six in the morning.

Her phone confirms that when she clicks on the screen she sees that it is seven-thirty-five.

Any other day, it really wouldn’t be that big of a deal because besides meetings she could make her own schedule.

Of course, of course, she sleeps on the day of an important presentation that she was the head presenter on.

It started at nine which didn’t give her much wiggle room because the commute takes a decent amount of time and that’s if there’s no hectic traffic.

“Shit, shit, shit,”  YN chants to herself when rolls out of bed, glaring judgmentally at Beatrice, and muttering, “You wake me up every other morning for breakfast, but not today, of all days?”

Beatrice blinks slowly at her before she lifts her paw pointedly and nibbles on it.

There’s no time for a shower or the makeup she wanted to do.

The only luck that was on her side was that she laid her outfit out last night after being incredibly indecisive about what she wanted to wear in front of the board of higher ups.

She had tugged her hair up into a loose ponytail that actually passed for the messy updo style, and put on her best push-up bra right after.

YN figured that while she was tugging on her trousers that she could go out to feed Beatrice,  the button was being finicky as it always tending to be so she was looking down as she begin down the hall, and nearly fell backwards when she runs into something hard, warm, and delicious smelling.

Harry’s big hands reach out and wrap around her bare arms, keeping her upright as she yelps in surprise, pants going unbuttoned for a moment as she grips Harry’s forearms for stability and looks at him with wide eyes.

His nostrils are flaring viciously, an irritated growling rumbling through his chest, and he keeps his eyes on her the full time.

They never once darted down to her chest,  that not only was just covered by her bra but was also sheer enough that her nipples were completely visible through the nude fabric.

YN is confused by her own desire to just curl into his chest and feel his shirtless chest against her barely clothed one, and what the fuck.

“Wha-“ YN stammers in confusion, why is he home?

“Why aren’t you at work?” Harry asks pointedly, his jaw was clenched tightly enough that it must be aching with soreness.

“I-I overslept,” She replies shakily, his hands still gripping her arms, fingertips pressing in, “I need to feed Beatrice.”

“No, what you need to do is get yourself dressed. Do you walk around half-naked with every alpha you know? S’indecent,” He’s scolding her like a child as he finally steps back.

YN has been so nice up until this point, despite how wonky her hormones have been.

She’s typically never a nasty person.

She rarely ever gets angry either.

However, today was the wrong day to fuck with her.

“Fuck you,” YN snaps back out of her stupor, much to Harry’s surprise, “I told I was late and I didn’t think you’d be home because you’re always at work by now. I’m sorry I’ve offended you with my body, prick.”

YN turns on her heel, storming back to her room, and snatching up her phone to check the time to see an email notification from her work.

Good morning,

We hope this email finds you well. Our office has to be unfortunately shut down for the next few days due to a major power outage after flooding in the basement of the building. We are estimating a three to four day shutdown. To show our gratitude for your patience, these days will be marked as paid time off. Stay tuned for more information and updates.

Thank you,

Evergreen Financial Accounting

YN feels a huge weight lifted off her chest because not only does she get a few days to relax but now she isn’t going to be late to her important presentation .

However, she does not feel completely relieved because the anger chewing at her over her housemate is just as heavy, even more prominent, and has triggered her inner hormonal omega.

YN fees a flash of defiance which is never a good sign as she usually never tries to rock the boat or cause a stir, prefers to fly under the radar.

No, not today.

YN storms back out of her room because she was going to feed Beatrice in her bra and unbuttoned work slacks if she wanted to.

Harry was sat on the living room couch which was an uncommon sight, a protein drink in a shaker cup, and his eyes on his phone in the opposite hand.

YN goes back into the kitchen, deciding she might as well make herself a breakfast sandwich while she’s at it after she fills Beatrice’s bowl.

She can feel his eyes on her, intense and if it could, his gaze would be burning a hole in her back with how directed and annoyed it was.

YN moves slowly, now that she’s in no rush at all, and she feels stupid for being surprised when Harry lets out a snarl loud enough to echo in the space.

YN doesn’t turn around.

It feels dangerous, she’d learned over and over again growing up to never ever antagonize an alpha, and here she was.

When she doesn’t respond to the noise, it gets louder and makes her ears ring just the slightest, he’s trying to force her attention on him.

Bossy, ill-mannered alpha.

His voice is closer when he speaks, she never even hears him get up.

“Go get some fuckin’ clothes on,” Harry orders,  his voice deeper, raspier than she had ever heard it.

But it also sent a very unpleasant spark of nervousness up her spine because the alpha in front of her was past the point of being annoyed, he was furious.

His shoulders were as broad as they could go, his teeth flashing at her, and his scent was richer, thicker, tinged with a sharp pine.

The playful, brattiness dissipates from her body as his growls stay loud, demanding, deafening.

YN doesn’t realize at first what a bad decision it is to flip her hair over her shoulder, putting her bare bond spot right on display in front of an agitated alpha.

To her utter dismay, he steps forward and their chests are nearly touching, his eyes were now completely focused on the curve of her neck.

When he reaches up, cupping the side of her neck, and curiously thumbs over the spot, YN cannot control the whine that leaves her throat.

His eyes move directly back up to hers, the noise drags him for his daze, and back into reality.

He actually does look her up and down this time, eyes lingering on her chest for a minute before he’s hissing at her once again, “Go get a fucking shirt on.”

With that, he’s turning and grabbing his duffle before storming out the front door, shutting it hard enough it vibrates but then she still hears him take the time to lock it.

Stupid fucking alpha.

+++++++++

[sebstanaddict]

The Weight of Love

Bucky Barnes x Reader One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes never expected to fall for Y/n, the nurse who helped him recover after he got severely injured from a dangerous mission. Six months later, their love is tested as Y/n becomes the one who needs help. When she collapses in his arms, Bucky must find a way to support her and face their challenges together.

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warning : none I think, let me know if you find any

Word count : 4k words

Read more Bucky one shots here : The Stan and Barnes Oddyssey

---

The Weight of Love

The first time James "Bucky" Barnes laid eyes on Y/n, he was bleeding out on a gurney, the sharp sting of pain dulled only by the disorienting fog of shock. The mission had gone horribly wrong, leaving him with a deep, jagged wound in his side that refused to stop bleeding. As he was rushed through the sterile halls of New York Presbyterian Hospital, his vision blurred, and he fought to stay conscious. Despite the chaos surrounding him, a calm, steady voice broke through the haze.

"Stay with me, Mr. Barnes. You're going to be okay. Just stay with me."

Her words were like a lifeline in the storm, anchoring him to the present. Bucky had faced countless injuries in the past, his body a patchwork of scars from battles that spanned decades. The super soldier serum coursing through his veins had always ensured that he healed faster than any normal human could. But lately, he'd noticed a change-a slowing down that was unsettling, to say the least. He wasn't healing as quickly as he used to, and this mission had proven that in the worst possible way.

The fluorescent lights of the emergency room passed overhead, casting harsh shadows that danced in and out of his vision. He could feel the life draining out of him, a coldness creeping into his limbs. But that voice-soothing, determined-kept pulling him back from the brink.

"Don't give up on me now, Mr. Barnes. We're almost there."

Somehow, he managed to focus, his vision sharpening just enough to make out her face. She had a mask on, but her eyes-their gentle concern, their unwavering focus-were enough to imprint on his memory even as he slipped into darkness.

When Bucky next opened his eyes, the world was quieter, the frantic urgency of the ER replaced by the steady beeping of monitors. His side ached, but the pain was duller now, a mere echo of the agony he remembered. He tried to sit up, but his body protested, and he let out a low groan.

"You're awake."

The voice was familiar, and Bucky turned his head slightly, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. Standing by the foot of his bed, holding a clipboard, was the nurse who had spoken to him in the chaos of the ER. Her face was calm, her demeanor professional, but there was a softness in her eyes that put him at ease.

"Y/n," she introduced herself, as if sensing he wouldn't recall much from earlier. "How are you feeling?"

Bucky swallowed, his throat dry and his voice rasping when he finally spoke. "Like I've been through a meat grinder."

Y/n nodded, her expression empathetic. "That sounds about right. You were in pretty rough shape when you came in, but the doctors were able to stabilize you. The wound was deep, but it didn't hit any vital organs, which is why you're still with us."

Bucky glanced down at his bandaged side, the stark white gauze a reminder of just how close he'd come to not making it. The serum should have helped him heal faster, but lately, its effects seemed to be... waning. He wasn't bouncing back the way he used to, and the thought sent a chill down his spine.

"How bad was it?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Pretty bad," Y/n admitted, her voice gentle. "You were bleeding heavily, and with the serum slowing down... well, it took longer than it should have for your body to start the healing process. But you're stable now, and that's what matters."

Bucky nodded, his mind still processing her words. The serum had been a part of him for so long, a source of strength that he had come to rely on. But if it was weakening... what did that mean for him? For the future?

As if sensing his unease, Y/n stepped closer, offering a small, reassuring smile. "You're going to be okay, Mr. Barnes. You just need to give your body time to heal."

Bucky managed a faint smile in return. "Please, call me Bucky."

"Alright, Bucky," Y/n said, her smile widening slightly. "How about I get you some water? You've been out for a while; you must be thirsty."

"Yeah, that'd be good," Bucky replied, his voice a bit steadier now.

As Y/n poured a cup of water and handed it to him, Bucky took a moment to really look at her. She moved with a quiet efficiency, but there was a warmth in her presence that cut through the sterile coldness of the hospital room. When their fingers brushed as she handed him the cup, he felt a strange sense of connection, a fleeting moment of human contact that made him feel... less alone.

Over the next few days, Y/n became a familiar and comforting presence in Bucky's life. Each morning, she was there, checking his vitals, administering medication, and asking about his pain levels. She seemed to know just when to offer words of reassurance and when to give him space, an intuition that Bucky appreciated more than he could express.

Y/n had seen her fair share of wounded soldiers over the years, but there was something about Bucky that set him apart. Perhaps it was the weight he carried in his eyes, the haunted look of someone who had lived through more than most could even imagine. She couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the soldier-the person who existed beneath the layers of trauma and scars.

One afternoon, as she was adjusting his IV, Bucky broke the silence that had settled between them. "You must see a lot of guys like me in here."

Y/n glanced up, meeting his gaze. "We get our share of soldiers, yes. But none quite like you."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "What do you mean?"

"You're... different," Y/n said carefully, choosing her words. "Most soldiers who come through here are dealing with physical injuries, but there's something else in your eyes. Something... deeper."

Bucky's jaw tightened slightly, the memories of his past flashing through his mind like a reel of horrors. "I've been through a lot," he said simply, his voice tinged with a weariness that spoke volumes.

Y/n nodded, her eyes softening. "I can see that. But you're still here, still fighting. That says a lot about who you are."

Bucky looked away, the weight of her words heavy on his shoulders. He wasn't sure how to respond. He had spent so long trying to distance himself from the Winter Soldier, from the man who had done so many terrible things, that he often forgot who he was beyond that. But Y/n's words stirred something in him-an inkling of the man he used to be, the man he wanted to be again.

As the days passed, Bucky found himself opening up to Y/n in ways he hadn't with anyone else in years. It started small-comments about the weather, the food, the monotonous routine of hospital life. But gradually, their conversations deepened, and Bucky began to share bits and pieces of his past.

He told her about Steve Rogers, the friend who had always believed in him, even when he couldn't believe in himself. He spoke of the 1940s, a time when life had been simpler, before the war, before everything had gone wrong. He even hinted at the battles he had fought in the shadows, though he kept the darkest details to himself.

Y/n listened with a quiet attentiveness, never pushing him to share more than he was ready to. She could sense the pain in his words, the guilt and regret that lingered just beneath the surface. But she also saw the strength in him, the resilience that had kept him going all these years, even when it felt like the world was against him.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the window, Y/n sat by Bucky's bedside, her shift nearly over. She had been thinking about him all day, wondering what it was about this man that made her care so deeply. It wasn't just his injuries or his past-there was something more, something that drew her to him in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"Bucky," she began, her voice soft in the quiet room. "Can I ask you something?"

Bucky turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes searching her face. "Sure."

"Why did you become a soldier?" she asked, her tone gentle, not wanting to pry too deeply but genuinely curious.

Bucky was silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered her question. It wasn't one he had been asked often-most people assumed they knew the answer. But Y/n wasn't most people.

"I didn't have much of a choice," he said finally, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "The world was at war, and everyone was expected to do their part. But for me... it was about protecting the people I cared about. Steve, my family, my country. I wanted to do the right thing."

Y/n nodded, understanding the complexity of his answer. "And do you think you did?"

Bucky let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "I don't know. I tried, but things didn't turn out the way I thought they would. The world changed, and I... changed with it."

Y/n reached out, placing a hand gently on his hand. "You're still here, Bucky. That means you're still fighting for something. Maybe it's not the same as it was before, but that doesn't make it any less important."

Bucky looked down at her hand, the warmth of her touch seeping into his skin. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope, a small spark that maybe, just maybe, he could find his way back to the man he used to be-or perhaps, become someone new entirely.

He wasn't sure what it was about Y/n but he found himself wanting to talk to her, to share the parts of himself that he usually kept hidden and he also wanted to get to know more about her.

"Why did you become a nurse?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Y/n smiled softly, as if she had been expecting the question. "My brother," she said simply. "He's autistic. Growing up, I spent a lot of time taking care of him, making sure he had what he needed. It wasn't always easy, but it made me realize that I wanted to help people-people who couldn't always help themselves."

Bucky listened intently, sensing that this was something deeply personal for her. "That must have been hard," he said, his voice gentle.

"It was," Y/n admitted, her gaze distant as she recalled those early years. "But it also taught me a lot about patience, empathy, and resilience. I knew that I wanted to make a difference, even if it was in small ways. Nursing felt like the right path for me."

Bucky nodded, feeling a strange sense of connection with her. They were both people who had seen their fair share of hardship, who had been shaped by the challenges life had thrown at them. "Your brother's lucky to have you," he said sincerely.

Y/n's smile widened, a touch of warmth in her eyes. "Thank you, Bucky. That means a lot."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, her hand still placed gently on top of his, the hum of the hospital's night shift lulling them into a sense of calm. For Bucky, it was a rare feeling-peace, even if it was only temporary. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, not since before the war, before the Winter Soldier.

As the days turned into weeks, Bucky's wounds began to heal, though not as quickly as he would have liked. The serum was still working, but its effects were slowing down, leaving him with a lingering sense of vulnerability that was unfamiliar and unwelcome. But with Y/n by his side, the process didn't seem as daunting. She was patient, understanding, and more than anything, she made him feel... human. Her presence became more than just a comforting routine; it became something he looked forward to, a reason to keep fighting, to keep healing.

Y/n, for her part, found herself drawn to Bucky in a way she hadn't expected. There was something about him-his quiet strength, his haunted eyes, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders-that resonated with her. She could see the pain he tried to hide, the scars that ran deeper than the physical ones, and she wanted to help him, to ease his burden even if just a little.

One evening, as Y/n was finishing up her shift, she found Bucky sitting up in bed, a rare smile playing on his lips. It wasn't the first time she had seen him smile, but it was the first time it felt genuine, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" she asked, her tone light as she walked over to his bedside.

Bucky looked up at her, his blue eyes bright with something she couldn't quite place. "I'm getting discharged tomorrow," he said, the words almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how she would react.

Y/n felt a mix of emotions-relief that he was well enough to leave, but also a pang of sadness at the thought of him not being here anymore. "That's great news," she said, her smile warm but tinged with a hint of melancholy.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, though his smile faded slightly as he looked away. "But... I'm gonna miss our talks."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his words catching her off guard. She hadn't realized just how much their conversations had come to mean to him. "Me too," she admitted, her voice soft.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the unspoken bond between them growing stronger with each passing second. Then, Bucky cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Would you, uh, maybe want to grab a coffee sometime?" he asked, his voice almost shy, as if he wasn't sure if she would say yes.

Y/n's heart swelled with a mix of affection and something deeper, something she wasn't quite ready to name yet. "I'd like that," she replied, her smile genuine.

Bucky's relief was palpable, and for the first time since he had arrived at the hospital, he felt like maybe-just maybe-there was a future worth looking forward to.

The next day, when Bucky was discharged, Y/n walked him to the entrance of the hospital. They exchanged numbers, promising to keep in touch, and as Bucky stepped out into the crisp New York air, he couldn't help but feel that something had shifted within him.

He wasn't just leaving the hospital behind; he was leaving behind a part of himself that had been stuck in the past, weighed down by guilt and regret. And in its place, something new was growing-a hope, a possibility, a future that he hadn't dared to dream of in years.

As he walked away, he glanced back one last time, catching a glimpse of Y/n standing in the doorway, watching him with a soft smile on her lips. It was a sight that he would carry with him for days, weeks, and months to come-a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found.

-----

Six months had passed since Bucky left the hospital, and in that time, he and Y/n had built something together - something real and fragile and beautiful. They had moved into a small but cozy apartment in Brooklyn - not far from where Y/n's father and brother lived - a place that had quickly become a sanctuary for both of them. It wasn't much, but it was theirs, a space where they could be themselves without the weight of the world pressing down on their shoulders.

But as much as Bucky had found peace in this new life, he couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him every time he looked at Y/n. She had always been a hard worker, dedicated to her job and her family, but lately, it seemed like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Bucky knew about Y/n's family. She had told him about her father, a man who had once been full of life and strength, but who had been worn down by time and illness. Her father had raised her and her younger brother on his own after their mother passed away, working tirelessly to provide for them. But now, the roles had reversed. He was elderly, frail, and needed Y/n's help more than ever.

Then there was Y/n's brother, Austin. He was autistic, a gentle soul who saw the world differently than most. Y/n adored him, had always been protective of him, but his care was demanding. He needed structure, routine, and support that only Y/n seemed capable of providing. She had been his rock, guiding him through life's challenges, ensuring he had everything he needed. But it was exhausting work, both physically and emotionally.

Bucky admired her strength, but he could see the toll it was taking on her. He noticed the way her hands trembled when she thought he wasn't looking, the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of sleep seemed to erase. He had tried to talk to her about it, to ask her to take a step back and rest, but she always brushed him off with a tired smile and a promise that she was fine.

Bucky knew better. He had been in enough battles to recognize when someone was pushing themselves too hard, and Y/n was well past that point. But no matter how much he tried to help, she insisted on carrying the burden alone.

One evening, Bucky was in the kitchen, putting together a simple dinner. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm, golden light through the windows. He was humming a tune under his breath, something he had picked up from the radio, when he heard the front door creak open.

"Hey, doll," he called out, turning to see Y/n stepping inside. "You're home late."

Y/n gave him a weary smile, her shoulders slumping as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, it was a long shift," she said, her voice laced with exhaustion.

Bucky frowned, concern etching lines into his face. "You've been pulling too many of those lately," he said gently, crossing the room to take her bag from her hands. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine, Bucky," Y/n replied, though the strain in her voice betrayed her. "Just a little tired."

But as she stepped further into the apartment, Bucky noticed the way her legs wobbled, the way she seemed to be struggling just to stay upright. Before he could say anything, Y/n swayed on her feet, and he rushed forward just in time to catch her as she collapsed into his arms.

"Y/n!" Bucky's voice was filled with panic as he lowered her to the floor, his heart racing in his chest. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, and for a terrifying moment, he feared the worst.

"Y/n, please, wake up," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His hands were trembling, the fear coursing through him like ice in his veins.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/n's eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a dazed expression. "Bucky...?"

"I'm here, doll," Bucky said, relief flooding through him as he cradled her against his chest. "I've got you."

Y/n blinked, confusion clouding her gaze as she tried to sit up. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Bucky said softly, his voice thick with worry. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, and your body just couldn't take it anymore."

Y/n's brow furrowed, and she looked away, shame creeping into her expression. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't mean to scare you."

Bucky shook his head, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just... I need you to stop doing this to yourself."

Y/n sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. "I can't, Bucky. My dad and my brother... they need me. I have to keep going for them."

Bucky's heart ached at her words. He knew how much her family meant to her, how deeply she cared for them, but he couldn't stand the thought of her destroying herself in the process.

"I understand that," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. "But you're no good to them if you run yourself into the ground. You need to take care of yourself, too."

Y/n closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as she whispered, "But who's going to take care of them if I don't?"

Bucky felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to her words, the sheer weight of her responsibility crashing down on him. He knew what it was like to carry a burden like that, to feel like the whole world was resting on your shoulders. But he also knew that no one could carry that weight alone-not even someone as strong as Y/n.

"You're not alone," Bucky said, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll take care of them together. But right now, you need help."

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could say anything, Bucky reached for his phone and quickly dialed 911. "I'm calling an ambulance," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to be checked out properly."

"Bucky, no," Y/n murmured weakly, but she didn't have the strength to fight him. Her body was betraying her, exhaustion pulling her down like an anchor.

"I'm not taking any chances," Bucky said softly, his hand trembling slightly as he held the phone to his ear. "You scared me, Y/n. I can't-" His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I can't lose you."

The minutes that followed felt like a blur. The paramedics arrived, moving quickly as they assessed Y/n's condition and prepared her for transport. Bucky stayed by her side, holding her hand, his heart pounding in his chest as they wheeled her out of the apartment and into the waiting ambulance.

The ride to the hospital was tense, the ambulance filled with the sound of medical equipment and the soft murmur of the paramedics as they worked to stabilize Y/n. Bucky sat beside her, clutching her hand tightly, his mind racing with fear and worry.

When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics rushed Y/n into the emergency room, and Bucky found himself pacing the hallway outside, his thoughts spinning in a chaotic whirlwind. He had faced down enemies, survived wars, and fought battles that seemed impossible, but nothing had ever terrified him as much as seeing Y/n like this.

Hours passed, and Bucky was eventually allowed into Y/n's room. She was lying in a hospital bed, looking small and fragile under the stark white sheets. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even and calm, but Bucky could still see the signs of exhaustion etched into her face.

A doctor approached him, explaining that Y/n was severely dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion. They had administered fluids and were monitoring her closely, but she would need to rest for several days.

Bucky thanked the doctor, his mind barely registering the words. All he could focus on was Y/n, lying there so still and quiet. He sat down beside her bed, his hand gently resting on hers as he watched her sleep.

Time seemed to stand still in that small, sterile room. Bucky lost track of how long he sat there, his thoughts consumed with worry and guilt. He should have seen this coming, should have done more to help her before it got to this point. But he had been so caught up in his own struggles, in his own fears, that he hadn't realized just how much Y/n was carrying.

As he sat there, the weight of everything hit him all at once. The life they had built together, the challenges they had faced, the love they shared-it was all so precious, so fragile. And in that moment, Bucky knew he couldn't wait any longer.

Without thinking, without planning, he reached for Y/n's hand, holding it tightly in his own as he leaned forward. "Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open as she looked up at him. "Bucky...?"

"I'm here," he said softly, his heart pounding in his chest. "And I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

Y/n blinked, still groggy and disoriented, but she could see the intensity in Bucky's eyes, the way his jaw was set with determination. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky took a deep breath, his mind racing as he searched for the right words. But in the end, it wasn't about the words. It was about the promise he was about to make, the life he wanted to build with her, the love he felt deep in his soul.

"I love you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I love you more than anything in this world. And I know I'm not perfect, I know I've got a lot of baggage, but... I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Y/n's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what he was saying.

"Y/n, will you marry me?" Bucky asked, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered emotion. "I know this isn't how I wanted to do it, and I don't even have a ring, but... I can't imagine my life without you. I need you, and I want to be with you, through everything."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, her heart swelling with love as she looked up at the man who had become her everything. She didn't care that there wasn't a ring, didn't care that they were in a hospital room instead of some romantic setting. All she cared about was the man in front of her, the man who was offering her his heart, his life, his future.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, Bucky, I'll marry you."

Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a wide smile spreading across his face as he pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he would never let go. "You've made me the happiest man in the world," he said, his voice full of awe.

She smiled as she released herself from his arms and reached up, cupping his face in her hands as she pulled him down into a kiss-a kiss that was full of all the love and gratitude she felt for him. In that moment, all the worries and fears melted away, and it was just the two of them, their hearts beating in sync.

They might not have had all the answers, and the road ahead might still be uncertain, but one thing was clear: they were in this together, and nothing could tear them apart.

[greedyhoneyz]

One Born Every Minute

ೃ࿔*:･pairing: eren yeager x pregnant!mom!reader .ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: as first-time parents, both (name) and eren are filled with excitement and anticipation. (name) is ecstatic, whilst eren is clouded by what-ifs. but when (name) is admitted, their roles reverse - (name), reality finally sinking in, is overwhelmed but with eren by her side, who supports her with a calm and supportive demeanour, she’ll face her newfound fears and meet her little one. .ೃ࿔*:･cw: angst. childbirth. inaccurate representation of birth. mostly fluff. .ೃ࿔*:･authors note: this is a long one, 2.2k words. the longest I've done in a while. i wanted to write a detailed story of reader and eren at birth, and used help to make this story sound as natural as I could make it. i hope that at least one part of this story can be understood but overall, I think this story might be my new favourite.

The dreary lift ride to the delivery ward felt like an eternity, the soft hum of the elevator and the simultaneous tapping of (name’s) nails against her phone and Eren’s uneasy feet shifting across the lift floor only added to the tension in the air.

Eren stilled, tightening his grasp on the handles of (name’s) hospital bag and glanced at her. His lips were pursed, his eyebrows contorting inwards as he asked. “How are you feeling?” 

Slowing the motion in her fingers, (name) turned away from her phone and peered up at Eren, a smile coming to her lips. “I feel fine.”

“That’s good…good,” Eren mumbled quietly, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Do you…need me…uh…did you think we forgot anything at home?”

“No,” (name) shook her head and wrapped her arm around Eren as best as she could despite her belly getting in the way. She rested her head on his shoulder, hugged him tightly, and reassured him. “We’ll be fine babe, we’re ready for this.”

The lift jolted to a halt and its door rustled open, greeting the couple with sounds and sights of the hospital hallway. People hurried by, doctors in scrubs rushed past, and the faint buzzing from the fluorescent lights above filled the air. 

(name) followed Eren wilfully, panting between slow, steady breaths as he carefully led her across the hallway, following the signs to the delivery ward.

They reached the door to the ward, the muted sounds of labour echoing from within and entered, to be greeted by a nurse at the reception desk and her welcoming smile. 

Eren and (name) stood at the ward’s reception desk, the sterile scent of the ward filled the air. (name) clutched her belly, her face contorting into a frown and held onto the desk for support as a tide of agony, rippled across her stomach in waves that came closer and closer together. 

“Are you okay?” Eren asked fretfully. He clambered over (name), rubbed her middle and gently touched her shoulder.

Between the strikes of pain and shaky breaths, (name) tried her best to concentrate, to formulate her words yet all she could offer was a moan and weary grin as her hands trembled slightly. 

Eren frowned, his eyebrows knitted together and knawed at his bottom lip. He greeted the nurse at the desk, whilst (name) riffed through her contractions and shuffled impatiently as she settled into her recliner. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, the gentle clicking of the keys a soothing backdrop to (name’s) muffled howls. 

“Alright, I need you to fill out these forms before we get you settled in.” She handed Eren a clipboard with a stack of papers attached and he hurriedly took it. He skimmed through the paperwork, jotting down (name’s) medical history, and insurance information from memory, the scratch of his pen against the paper a steady rhythm.

Bunching the papers together, Eren returned the paperwork and watched diligently as the nurse promptly glanced through the information, ensuring everything was complete before tucking the papers into (name’s) file.

She stood from her chair and circled her desk, a clipboard tucked underneath her arm. She beckoned the couple over and gestured for them to follow her down the corridor. She led them past rows of closed doors until they reached room ‘406’.

“Okay, you’re gonna be right in here.”

“I’ll grab you a gown.”

Slam. The door shut, and Eren and (name) were left alone. 

“It’s nice.” (name) spoke out between a few bated breaths, finally at ease. Her gentle voice filled the barren room as she carefully eased herself onto the edge of her bed. 

Placing her bag at his feet, Eren glanced at (name). “What?”

“The room,” (name) murmured, motioning her hand across the room. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Eren breathed, pulling up a chair beside her. He sat down, sinking into its firm cushion, and tucked his feet beneath.

As Eren sat and drew a breath, he felt a sense of overwhelming fatigue wash over him. He had been running on little sleep, juggling work responsibilities and last-minute preparations for the baby's arrival. His mind was a constant whirlwind of worries - about (name’s) well-being, about the health of their baby, about the obscure challenges that lay ahead with childbirth. 

“Here you go,”

The nurse entered with a warm smile bound to her face as she greeted the couple with a hospital gown in hand. She placed it on the bed beside (name) and after checking her watch, issued instructions to the couple. “After you get changed, we’ll come and check how far you’ve dilated.”

“Okay.” (name) nodded, shifting her gaze between the gown beside her and Eren. 

“Great! See ya in a few.” Slam.

“You need my help?”

“Please,” (name) cajoled, raising her arms like she wanted him to carry her.

Rising from his seat, Eren helped (name) to her feet and into her hospital gown. She shuffled out of her sweatshirt and sweatpants and stepped into her gown. She struggled to manoeuvre her swollen belly into the gown but Eren’s hand steadied her fidgeting and carefully draped the fabric over her middle and slightly above her knee.

Eren stood back, fatigue swelled in his gaze and relished at the sight of (name’s) swollen belly. The sight of her middle, veiled beneath the loose fabric of the hospital gown, filled him with pride and gloom. Very soon, the belly he had watched grow, expand and move would be no more, and an infant, the size of a small watermelon, would replace it. 

Wrapping his arm around her lower back, supporting her labour movements, Eren gently guided (name) towards the hospital bed. The hospital room was dimly lit, with only the sound of (name’s) heavy breathing, the soft hum of machines and the gentle beeping of monitors.

As they reached the bed, Eren helped (name) lay down. She sank into the mattress, letting out a relief smile as he fluffed up the pillows behind her and carefully tucked the sheets around, ensuring she was warm and comfortable. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his love and concern evident in his tired eyes.

(name) smiled up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and affection as she whispered. “Thank you.”

Eren returned to his seat beside her, his heart swelled with love as he gazed at his wife and her swollen middle.

With each contraction that belted through, came a bolt of agony that consumed (name’s) entire being. She yelled at the top of her lungs, her face flushed with frustration and pain, as her eyes squeezed shut. She gripped Eren’s hand tightly, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip and clamped her lips together as she pushed. 

Eren could see the pain etched on his wife's face and could feel the heat of her breath against his skin as she struggled through each contraction– she was exhausted, stressed and in pain. 

“You’re doing amazing, baby,” Eren whispered, his voice glinting between hints of admiration and concern. “I’m so proud of you. Just breathe, okay? You’ve got this.”

(name) nodded, her head bobbing to the side as she focused on tempering her breathing, desperate to find a rhythm that would ease the pain. Eren stood by her side, offering words of encouragement and gentle touches, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of labour.

“Eren?” (name) spoke, her voice shaky.

“Yeah, baby?” Eren replied, offering a warm smile.

(name) swallowed deeply, and slowly opened her mouth, yet no words emerged. Instead, a strangled cry escaped her lips, the dam of her emotions breaking in a rush of pain and despair, and the feeling of overwhelmingness. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unashamed as she wailed. “I-I should have taken the epidural. It hurts so much.”

Eren wrapped his arm around as best as he could, minding the side rails that separated him from his wife and the nurses working diligently around him. He held her face as she wept, and muttered words of tenderness and reassurance. “It's okay baby, you're doing great. Just a couple more pushes and he’ll be here. Okay? I know it hurts but you're almost done.”

As (name’s) tears began to subside, her chest heaved upwards and downwards in sporadic tremors. She lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and gazed at her husband. “...Eren…”

“I know baby,” Eren whispered. He leaned forward, pressing his chest against the side rail, and pressed a kiss to the side of (name’s) head and then to her soiled cheek. “You’ll be okay.”

The pain returned in stronger and more intense waves, and (name) howled. She writhed in discomfort and agony, jeering her head from left to right and squeezed Eren’s hand tighter. Her face contorted into a mean scowl, her breath coming in short and sharp gaps as she pushed and then exhaled and then pushed, inhaling deeply. 

And when the pain stopped, Eren pampered (name) with his comforting touch; wiping away her tears and soothing her trembling figure with careful rubs. He held her as best as he could from beside her bed and urged her softly, his feathery voice a timid facade to the pacing worry pumping through his blood. 

In a stop-start fashion, (name) pressed through labour steadily as the doctor on call and the nurses bustled around the room. They worked in perfect harmony, their movements choreographed with precision and and expertise. They checked (name’s) vitals, monitored the baby’s heart rate and adjusted the beeping monitors every so often.

And in the centre of it all, (name) laboured through her contractions, tears brimmed between her eyes. Sweat glistened above her brows, her breath escaping through ragged gasps and tired pleas. 

“Alright, (name),” one of the nurses spoke, her voice gentle yet firm. “A couple more pushes and the baby will slip on out.”

(name) moaned tiredly and turned away, stuck in a lonesome daze. She could feel the wave of emotions building inside of her: doubt, resentment; anguish. Such emotions weighed heavily on her stomach, yanking at her resolve, her courage, her joy, until she crumbled.

The hospital room filled with the sound of soft, muffled sobs as (name) laid still, her sullen face tucked behind the few plaits draped across the side of her face, tears pooled down her cheeks and soiled her bed sheets. “I just want…I just want it to be over.”

Eren stared down at (name’s) trembling figure, dejection burned through his eyes. He reached out, took her hand, intertwining it in his own, and called her delicately. “(name).” He spoke, squeezing her hand.

“(name)– baby look at me,” He retorted firmly, beckoning her over with a gentle touch to the shoulder. “Look at me.”

She turned to him, her eyes welled with tears and hummed sullenly. “Yes.”

Eren spoke earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it hurts. I can’t even begin to imagine how it feels but our baby, your baby is ready and he wants to come out and the more we wait, the harder it is on him.”

“But–”

Eren shook his head. “I know. But he’s coming, he’s coming out to see you.”

(name) sniffled, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she took in Eren’s words. She squeezed his hand, holding it to her chest and whispered, her shaky voice thick with emotions. “Okay.”

Unweaving her fingers from Eren’s, (name) slowly sat up and lurched herself forward. Her chest pressed against her middle, her hands gripping the handles of her bed. A fierce look flashed through her eyes as with the last drop of strength left in her spirit, she let out a guttural grunt.  

From between her legs, she felt the force of her baby crowing, tearing her flesh apart, and held her breath. She pushed, the baby’s head free from its cavern, and pushed, the baby’s shoulder untroubled, and pushed, the baby finally slipping into the hands of a neonatal nurse.

“There he is!”

A boy was born, and here he was nascent eyes opening, mouth rooting for milk.

He shrieked and finicked, shackled from neck to bottom and damp, and toted away from his lustrous mother to a bassinet, the thick air that once comforted him replaced by the palpable sense of anticipation and excitement echoed through alien voices and strange objects that toyed at his skin.

“Would Dad like to cut the umbilical cord?” 

The nurse beckoned Eren over, a pair of scissors in hand and journeyed him to the bassinet. With trembling hands, Eren carefully cut the plump and pale cord, severing the physical bond that had sustained their child in the womb for nine long months. As he did so, a wave of adoration washed over him, a sense of deep joy and fulfilment.

And then, after what felt like an eternity the infant fell to the solace of his (name’s) bare chest, a white blanket draped across his body. He was dry after a brief wipe down but gleamed beautifully like no other, purple and all. 

Erem glanced over his newfound family, tears rooting from the brims of his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of (name’s) head as she leaned into his touch, sighing woefully. His heart swelled with tenderness and relief, as gaze down (name) and their tiny newborn held in her arms. 

"He’s here," he spoke between shaky breaths and a sniffle, a prideful smile pulling on his face. "You did it, baby."

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Black Out Days

Gale x F! Tav

18+ chronic pain, drug use (weed), unintentional aphrodisiac (slutweed), groping, dry humping, breast worship (f!), fingering (f!), body caging, roughness, sub/dom, tenderness

Tav's pain rising to an unbearable level, she indulges in some found herbs to find relief. But her sanctuary is laced with some heated side effects...

Masterlist

-

"Please, please I've had enough." She moaned, head resting against cool river stones.

The pain had been spiking over the base of her skull all day in excruciating arcs. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open, force her face to be impassive.

Between every horrible thing that had been happening to them, her chronic pain was her own burden to bear. She hadn't told anyone besides Halsin, the sweet man helped her as much as he could with what was available.

Nothing made her feel worse than being a burden, so she trudged on in silence. Still the leader they needed. Gods only know how she ended up in that position in the first place.

Crouching at the riverside, she gripped at slick stones, whimpering. Finally letting go of her lovingly crafted mask of health. Wanting to slam her insolent head into the earth, but knew that would offer no relief.

Scrambling hands reached into her pack. At the goblin camp, she had pocketed a jar of promising looking herbs.

She brought the unsealed jar to her nose.

Musky, sweet, near sulphuric.

Yes, praise the Gods. Halfling weed.

Packing Halsins borrowed pipe, she leaned back on haunches, the new movement making her stomach spin threateningly. If she could stretch this supply out it could sustain her, at least until she could slip into to an apothecary.

Flicking her fingers, she brought a small flame to the bowl. Breathing in slowly.

As soon as the smoke met her lungs, a spreading warmth caressed up the back of her spine. Gentle fingers splaying up, cradling the base of her skull. The agony dulling into a veiled hissing. Still crouched in the grass, but far from where she sat.

Tears of relief fell down her face. Gods, she could breath again. Body pulled down deliciously yet so much lighter.

She sighed, leaning her head back. Taking a moment to get lost in the crisp night air, the sounds of moving water, insects calling for one another in the dark. Finally able to perceive more than her anguish.

Standing, she headed back towards the orange point of their campfire. Body awash in calm.

As she re-entered their little world a new sensation sidled up to her spreaded peace.

A soothing heat slipped down her front, pressing an insistent touch inside of her pelvis.

Oh.

Kneeling near the campfire, she examined the jar more thoroughly. Lifting the bottom, she found a small scuffed label written in scratchy hand.

Halfing Weed; Succubus Spittle 5%

Hissing a breath between her teeth, she closed her eyes in defeat. Fucking goblins.

Slick already pooling between her legs, she groaned in frustration. Of course her savior came with a demand.

Already, she knew this was not nearly enough to deter her from the alternative. But it didn't make it any less vexing.

Hips already rocking against nothing, she was infinitely thankful that the camp had turned in for the night. Even Astarion off hunting for a few hours, at least.

Especially him, she knew he had the skills she needed in this moment. But she didn't want to do that to him. From one veiled mask to another, she could tell he didn't want her that way.

Dizzy with heat, she rose to head to her tent. More than willing to deal with this desire alone. She had a sure hand and a vivid imagination, it would be an easy burden to bear.

Her infatuation with the wizard could be tonight's theater of the mind. Wide shoulders, soft brown eyes, hair that brushed against his clavicle. The veins in his forearms when he pushed up his sleeves, large hands twisting and pulling with blue magic.

She moaned, and clapped her hand over her mouth.

Reign yourself in, Tav. Gods.

As if summoning him from her salacious imagination, he emerged from his tent.

Drowsily greeting her, he wandered towards the water pump, kneeling next to it. Pulling the lever, he opened his mouth and started swallowing what of the divulge of water he could catch.

She stood stock still, watching this innocuous moment like a wolf watches a rabbit. The desire pooled in her pelvis boiling over.

Wiping his mouth, he rose back to feet. Seeming to fully see her then.

"Tav, you alright? You seem a little flushed, in a haunted type of way."

Gods forgive her for what she was about to do.

Taking his hand, she wordlessly pulled him into his tent.

"What-" Her body cut him off, pressing hard into his.

Running her hands up his taut back, she buried her face into his neck. The curve of his waist bending up into shoulders making her moan softly.

He was so warm, so solid against her pushing. Smelling of old books and leather. Her hand rising to tangle into his hair, tugging gently.

His body seemed to go weak then, gripping onto her for support.

"Tav, Gods..." He shivered.

His voice bringing her back to herself for a moment, she made to pull away. But his hands held her anchor to him.

"Please, don't stop." He pleaded.

Like a flint sparking, she dove back in. Hips fluid and insistent against his. Gathering his sleep shirt in her demanding hands. Pulling his head back to release his neck to her. Pulsing, biting, suckling into the soft flesh.

The herb removing all inhibition, she was a growling animal against him. Hands pinning and pulling, mouth hungry and salivating.

He fell to knees, and she followed him down. Straddling over his lap, licking an obscene line up his panting throat.

His length already a pillar pushing against her. Hands catching her writhing hips, pulling them flush to him.

Her head fell back then, the friction Gods sent. The slick already pooled in her underclothes welcoming him.

Something seemed to snap in him.

His hands wrenched her sleep shirt over her shoulders. Caging over her body, pushing her down on his bedroll.

"Yes," She moaned, falling open for him.

His mouth pushed into hers, gripping the back of her head.

The heat coming off of him was making her head spin. Intoxicating her body into liquid, crashing against him in waves. All smothered soft calls and silent demanding mouths.

Tangling into him like it was all she knew. All her body could know was getting as close as she could without being inside.

He hitched her leg up over his hip and ground down hard. Groaning in the back of his throat. Chest lit up purple, eyes glowing.

Concern arced through her stifling heat.

She cupped the sides of his face, bringing his eyes to hers.

The question in her eyes reached him. Hips still pistoning, he nodded.

"Please, I want to."

"Then take what you want." She gasped out, leading his head down.

He dove on her breast, licking her hard tip into his warm mouth.

"Fuck," She hissed, back arching.

She tried to reach for his sleep pants but his hand caught her wrist, forcing it above her head.

Pushing her underclothes down her hips, he rubbed hard against her clit. Blurring his hand.

Choking out a moan, she writhed helplessly. His body keeping her pinned and open. Splayed fully against him.

His mouth switched sides, taking up her soft untouched breast. The slurping suckle his tongue pulled against her peak making her mewl.

"Please, Gale. Inside." She pleaded, bucking her hips as much as his hold would allow.

He pushed two fingers inside her, moan muffled against her flesh.

"You're so wet," He groaned.

"You. All you." She moaned, sentences and their structures utterly lost.

But those words must have been more than enough. His fingers began slamming inside her, hooking towards her navel.

Her head fell back, gripping his head to her breast. The force of his fingers rocking her back and forth.

He was the tide and she a ship, unanchored and tossing through the waves.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She whined as the pressure in her pelvis tilted up, threatening collapse.

He pulled her engorged peak between his teeth and she was thrown overboard.

Her legs arched up, clamping around his hips. Back bending, the force of the pleasure striking through her was near agony. Completely stealing her voice away, only gasping out choking silent cries. The herbs making her reach new heights, unwinding like a tapestry pulled. Clenching hard enough around his fingers to make him groan.

She collapsed under him, head lolling. Eyes glazed and rolling.

He pulled his fingers from her, licking them clean. Leaning down to nuzzle into her neck, his beard tickling her.

"You didn't-" She started weakly.

"With the state of the orb, I think it's in all of our best interests if I obstained."

"Besides," He hummed, kissing under her jaw. "Your pleasure has more than sustained me."

"Though I am curious, what brought on this most welcome intrusion?"

She hesitated. Not wanting another person, especially him, who has so much to hurdle over already, to worry about her.

"It's this... pain I have. I found some soothing herbs and they helped. A lot actually. But with other effects."

She pulled the small jar from her strewn trousers, handing it to him.

Immediately he flipped it over to examine the bottom, and she groaned in embarrassment.

"See, that's exactly what I didn't do."

Grabbing for her shirt she instead landed on his, pulling it over her head.

He smiled at her, eyes lit up with appreciative glint.

"Ah, of course it looks better on you."

"Cozy." She sighed, the velvet material warming her through. Sleeves swallowing her hands.

He reached inside her pocket and retrieved the pipe, sparking up his fingers and bringing it to his lips.

Seeing her shock, he smiled.

"You're not the only one fighting pain." He knocked his knuckles on the burned circle in his chest.

"Besides, you seemed to be in a peaceful state. I'd like to meet you there, if you'd allow me."

"Deal." She smiled, sliding on knees to sidle up close to him again. "But only if you let me stay the night."

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain." He smiled at her, scrunching up his nose in that playful way that made her heart gallop.

As soon as he breathed in, she held his chin in her fingers. Pulling his mouth to hers, breathing in the smoke as it left him.

Starting to relax, he pulled her down with him. Sighing contently as she snuggled into him.

"Oh, careful. I could get very used to this."

~

[totowlff]

chapter forty-eight — starcrossed (again)

➝ their paths had led them to that moment, and they regretted nothing.

➝ word count: 2,2k

➝ warnings: birth description

➝ author’s note: i finally had the balls to post this chapter. i hope you like it and forgive me for the delay. these have not been very easy weeks for me in my personal life.

DECEMBER, 2018

As she opened her eyes, Elisabeth had the distinct impression that she’d been hit by a truck, but even through the haze of pain, her vision immediately focused on the small empty bassinet next to her bed. 

  Panic surged through Elisabeth’s body as she bolted upright from. All she felt for a moment was her heart pounding against her sternum, until the searing pain in her pelvis registered. Once it did, she couldn’t help but groan in agony.  

  — Fuck — Elisabeth gasped, trying to continue moving. She had to do something, she couldn’t just lie in bed all day. She had to…

 Hissing in pain, she had just managed to get her toes barely touching the floor when she heard the handle to the room’s door turning. She looked up to see Toto, holding a cup of something dark and steaming - hospital coffee, no doubt. 

— Liesl, what are you doing? — he asked, setting the drink down haphazardly on the rolling tray next to her bed so he could help her  — You heard what the nurses said, you can’t get up on your own, especially after a cesarean section.

  — The baby’s not in the crib, I just… I want — Elisabeth stammered, as Toto guided her back into bed. 

  — My love, the nurse took the baby to the nursery so you could get some sleep, don't you remember? — Toto said gently, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. 

  Elisabeth blinked. She felt disoriented. She couldn’t remember even talking to the nurse, never mind talking to her about taking her baby to the nursery.

  — I want my baby — she stammered, as fat tears leaked from her eyes  — I'm the mother, I want my baby here by my side, I want…

  Toto took Elisabeth’s face gently in his hands, trying to soothe her.

  — My love, you need to rest…

  — I don't want to rest, I want my baby…

  — You need to rest, Elisabeth  — he replied, a bit more firmness in his voice.

  — But…

  — Please, my love. You spent 24 hours in labor, and had to have surgery on top of it. 

  Elisabeth blinked again. Toto was right, and it was the first time she realized the magnitude of what the past two days had wrought. Her life — and Toto's — had completely changed, and it was the most exhausting two days of her life.

Her water broke while she was at home. That part of the process was much more peaceful than what she had imagined. There was no panic, no mad dash to the hospital. She was more than ready, at least mentally, and her doula arrived in practically no time, keeping her calm and reassuring her that everything was going as expected. 

  However, the pain soon became more than could be managed at home, and a comment from Toto about how pale Elisabeth looked had the doula making the call to err on the side of caution. The obstetrician examined her, and noted that she was only halfway through the process at five centimeters dilated. 

She tried to be optimistic about her progress in those last six hours, after all, it was her first birth. But with each hour that passed, she grew more anxious, and the pain got much worse; the Pilates ball and the warm water bath in her room did little to help.

As the sun was coming up, the doctor examined Elisabeth again to check on her progress, declaring that she was fully dilated and that she could begin pushing before long. Her doula assured her that everything would be over in the next few hours, and Elisabeth felt encouraged.

However, things didn’t go quite as planned.

Although her body was ready to push, Elisabeth couldn’t do so without feeling excruciating pain, which neither the doula's techniques nor the powerful drugs in her IV line could alleviate. The obstetrician soon discovered what the problem was: the baby’s head was stuck against Elisabeth’s pelvic bone — fetal asynclitism, the obstetrician explained, the remedy for which was a cesarean section.

Elisabeth couldn't hold back her tears when she heard the doctor's words. She wasn’t sure if she was crying more from pain or from frustration; she’d already been in labor for several hours, along with the anxiety and anticipation, and in the end, she needed to have surgery anyway. Tears filled her eyes as she was wheeled into the operating room, trying to focus on what really mattered - the hope that her baby would come safely into the world.

As she settled back into bed, Elisabeth did her best to focus on the motion of Toto's fingers, which were drawing circles on the back of her hand.

— You need to rest as much as possible — he murmured, bringing her hand to his lips to place a kiss — I’ll be right here the whole time.

— You will?

— Yes, my love. Always.

With a small smile, Elisabeth allowed herself to close her eyes again, falling into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

She was woken up by a loud cry — it sounded like an infant, which made Elisabeth snap her eyes open. She looked around the room until she saw Toto standing by the window. In his arms, he was holding a squalling infant, wrapped in a white blanket with a crocheted cap. Even though the baby looked far too small in Toto’s long arms, he looked like a practiced professional, despite his previous child being born fifteen years ago.

— It's okay, my little aprikose — he cooed, gently bouncing the bundle up and down — We just changed your diaper, what's bothering you now?

— …Hungry, maybe? — Elisabeth mumbled, adjusting herself to sit up a bit. Upon hearing her voice, Toto turned around, giving a small smile.

— Maybe — he replied, bringing the baby closer— Want to see?

Elisabeth nodded and adjusted herself a bit more so Toto could hand the baby over, as carefully as possible. As soon as the baby was securely in Elisabeth’s arms, she positioned herself so the child could suck on her breast. As the baby managed to latch, Elisabeth pressed her mouth into a thin line.

— Is everything okay?

— Yes, just sensitive — she murmured, looking into the baby's open and attentive eyes.

— Does it hurt? — Toto asked.

— It's not pain, it's just discomfort. It's weird.

— I can imagine — he said, placing a hand on her head, stroking her messy curls.

Elisabeth looked at her baby with an almost childish enchantment. She couldn't believe that she was holding the materialization of everything she felt for Toto in her arms. Despite the pain, anxiety, and exhaustion, it felt wonderful.

— Liesl — Toto said, after a few minutes of silence. Eliasbeth looked up at him, and he continued — Your parents are already here, they'll be up soon.

— Did you talk to them?

— Your mother sent me a message…

— I mean about — she hesitated for a few seconds — Him.

Toto looked thoughtfully at the baby.

It was not as if Toto and Elisabeth cared if they were having a boy or a girl, but they were keenly aware of Niki’s desire to have a granddaughter at last, but those dreams were dashed in the operating room when Elisabeth's obstetrician triumphantly announced that they were the parents of a big boy with especially strong lungs - considering the way he cried.

When they saw the baby for the first time, still covered in blood and squirming in the doctor's hands, Elisabeth and Toto began to laugh. Neither of them could really believe that their baby had turned out to be a boy, especially because they were so sure that they would be having a girl. As the adrenaline wore off in the recovery room, Elisabeth realized that she would have to tell Niki that he had another grandson afterall. It wasn’t as if she thought Niki would be upset, but he had been so excited about the prospect of a little girl, and Elisabeth didn’t want to disappoint him, especially given how fragile his health was these days.

— No, I didn't tell them.

She pursed her lips.

— He's going to be disappointed — Elisabeth murmured, looking at the boy who was still latched to her breast.

— I'm sure he won’t, my love — Toto replied, kissing her forehead — He'll love having another little Lauda boy.

The baby was back in the crib next to Elisabeth's bed when she heard a knock on the door. As Toto went to open it, she adjusted herself on the bed, running a hand through her hair. She was sure she looked like a disaster. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine”, she thought to herself, taking one last look at her son.

When her parents appeared in the doorway, Elisabeth couldn’t help but smile. She felt her heart pounding again as she saw the big bouquet of pastel flowers that her mother was holding. Behind her, her father trundled into the room with a black bag slung around his shoulder. There was a portable oxygen concentrator inside the bag that he needed to take everywhere now, connected to a cannula that looped around his ears and into his nose.

— Hi, my love — Marlene said softly, placing the flowers on the table before approaching her — How are you?

— Well, so far, so good — Elisabeth replied, while her mother placed a kiss on her face — In quite a bit of pain because of the incision, but everything else is fine.

— I can only imagine  — her mother murmured, smoothing down the strands of Elisabeth’s hair — Toto told us that things didn’t go quite as planned.

— Yes — Elisabeth sighed  — Let's say the baby got stuck and we had to go to plan B.

— But everything worked out, and that's what matters — Toto said, standing next to Marlene and putting an encouraging hand on Elisabeth’s shoulder.

 Elisabeth turned her head to the left and saw her father looking at the newborn in the crib with a contemplative expression. After a few seconds of silence, he looked up at her, sparkling with curiosity under his red cap.

— A boy?

Elisabeth nodded. Niki looked down at the baby.

— I think you and your brothers don't know how to make girls — he murmured, seriously.

— I thought you would be disappointed…

Her father let out a snort, interrupting her.

— Disappointed? Do you really think I would be disappointed in having another grandchild?

— Well — Elisabeth stammered, as he approached the bed — Toto and I thought that…

— Please, Mauslein, I could never be disappointed in you, especially at a time like this. Not to mention, you two can always try again, right?

She smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up.

— If you let me keep my balls — Toto murmured, winking at his partner.

— Maybe I will, I'll still think about it — Niki grumbled.

After a few more questionable jokes and Elisabeth discovering the hard way that she couldn't laugh without feeling pain, Toto asked the proud grandparents if they wanted to hold their new grandson. As Toto placed the sleeping baby in Niki’s arms, Elisabeth couldn’t help but feel her heart filling with a joy that was almost unbearable.

— He's beautiful, my love — Marlene said with a choked voice — Simply beautiful.

— He looks like you — Niki murmured, looking at Toto.

— Is that a good thing? — Toto asked.

— I still don't know — her father replied, looking back down at his grandson.

— I think it’s wonderful, Toto is a very handsome man — Marlene added — Besides, without the Lauda chin, maybe you won’t have to call him mausi.

The baby squirmed slightly in his grandfather's arms, the white blanket he was bundled in drawing a sharp contrast to Niki’s ever-present red cap. There was something beautiful and poetic about all of it, at least in Elisabeth's eyes. It was innocence in the face of wisdom, a life that began in the hands of one that had almost come to an end months before, both of them connected by something in common.

— What's his name? — her mother finally asked.

Elisabeth smiled.

— Andreas.

Niki looked up suddenly, looking like she couldn't believe his ears.

— What did you say?

— I said his name is Andreas — Elisabeth repeated, feeling her eyes fill with tears.

— Andreas Sven, actually — Toto added — We thought it would be appropriate to pay homage to both of our fathers. I hope you don't mind that, Niki.

A long silence filled the room. Marlene wiped her eyes, her lips pressed together in an attempt to avoid making any sound that might wake Andreas. Her father, on the other hand, seemed frozen in place, staring at the baby without saying a word.

— Dad — Elisabeth said softly — We can choose another name if you want...

— No, no — he murmured, looking at his daughter. That's when she noticed his eyes were wet — Andreas Sven is good, very good.

— Perfect, actually — Marlene added — And we can call him Andi, right?

She nodded as Niki handed the baby to Marlene and got up from the couch. Stopping in front of Toto, he seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before placing a hand on Toto's shoulder.

— Would you mind if I said something that’s probably sentimental bullshit?

— Of course not.

— Your father would be proud of the man you've become. And, if I may say so, I am too. You've grown a lot since I met you and, honestly, there's no one better than you to be by my daughter's side. Thank you for making her happy.

Toto smiled, before pulling Niki into a hug.

— And that goes double for you, Mauslein — her father added, as he moved away from Toto's hug — I couldn't be more proud of you, especially now. I love you.

It was Elisabeth's turn to smile, tears streaming down her cheeks.

— Thank you, dad. I love you too.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 12 - it was just for fools

"We were searching for reasons to play by the rules, but we quickly found it was just for fools." -Mary On A Cross by Ghost

Masterlist Part 11

Wonder Woman, with her extensive diplomatic training, was the perfect speaker to bring before the United Nations council. 

There was something regal about Diana, something that demanded attention from all genders and ages, her accent smooth and light with eyes hardened with barely concealed anger at what brought her to their door. 

The Anti-Ecto Acts. 

Diana understood war. There was very little she hadn’t experienced where it concerned the subject, from betrayal to a very personal loss, but now she had another chance to draw from her past. 

Prevention of a war. 

Only fools would believe a war against the Infinite Realms, the land of the End and death incarnate, that which holds every afterlife for every belief, was winnable. 

Every death on humanity’s side, was another solider for the King of the End. 

That was yet another point. 

The Once and Future Star King, Vanquisher of the Dark, Protector of the Light, Great One…. Was a Protector spirit. The spirit of a child who died wanting to be saved. 

Diana sighed, awaiting her fellow heroes in the meeting hall, Black Canary, Superman and Batman (with his ever tiny Robin) were already present. Red Robin was sat with a tablet, reading through a collection of data instead of conversing. 

It was almost seven on the dot, the meeting filled with nearly all members of the League, when Constantine portals in with a flask in one hand and a book in the other. 

“Not a word.” He grumbles around an unlit cigarette held between his lips, unceremoniously dropping into an unoccupied seat. 

Despite the surprise of John Constantine being on time for something, much less a Justice League meeting, Diana had other concerns to deal with. 

Namely, the repeal of the Anti-Ecto Acts. 

An unexpected summoning was a shard of ice in her spine, twisting like a knife of betrayal in the nerves, utter agony. Jazz had little warning, little time to brace herself before she was hooked behind her navel and yanked. 

Thank the Ancients she wasn’t in the shower, because whoever had the audacity to summon the Ghost King was not going to receive an eyeful for their trouble. 

Jazz allowed her armor to materialize, a slick sensation of water down her back soothed the lingering pain of the brutal summons, but her back plate soon settled firmly in place and irritated the nerves more so. 

Just as her helmet locked into place, sealing her fully into her armor, green smoke announced her arrival with a dramatic flair she couldn’t find humor in. 

Rested on one knee, head bowed, the Regent was quite an intimidating sight for the uninitiated. 

Her helmet, full coverage with a crown of green shards embedded into its pulsing ebony metal, only allowed the green tint of her eyes to shine through. Once her head lifted, the several shivers her gaze got proved how effective it was at unnerving others. 

With a breath, the Regent stood. 

“You have tried to summon the King of the End, why?” 

John Constantine was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was certainly not a fool. He’d been against summoning the Ghost King, knowing full well to whom they would be dragging unwilling instead. Somehow the title of Regent failed to comprehend to most present, which was not Constantine’s fault in the slightest. 

(Hey, at least he was mostly sober summoning, right?) 

(Had to give credit where it’s due.) 

Bats was unamused with Constantine’s first warning of ‘Do not fuck with’ when Phantom had first shown himself, but this was ridiculous really. A message was always better than trying to summon the King, who would want to be interrupted right? 

Yet again, the Magician was overruled. 

(At least he didn’t have to sell his soul this time.) 

(The Phantom already gifted the glued together remnants to his Regent.) 

(Morbid as it was, at least John knew it was in better hands than some half wit demon he’d scammed.) 

No one answered before the Regent spoke with some amusement lacing her words, “I should have known a summon from you, Constantine, would be painful.” 

(Was it a good or bad sign that the Regent didn’t immediately call him ‘Sad Trenchcoat man’?) 

Diana politely interjected, “Greetings, My Lady. We apologize for the unfortunate experience and will endeavor to do better in future meetings.” 

(Good old Diana.)

“Greetings.” The Regent replied, helmeted head slightly tilted as she studied the others present before her, having been ignored for the time being. 

Wonder Woman pressed a fist over her heart with a slight bow of her head as she spoke again, “May I introduce the Justice League and it’s founders; Batman, Superman, and myself, Wonder Woman. You are familiar with Constantine, who is a member of Justice Dark.” 

“I am the Regent of the Realms, Lady of the Acropolis, you may refer to me as either.” Jazz intoned, serious as was only right for her titles. “I’ll ask once more… Why.” 

Constantine, despite the familiarity he held with Phantom, shivered in the presence of the Regent. The owner of his soul could command he turn on his allies, zap away his free will with only a few words. Sure, he had some doubts that the Regent would, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t. The AEA proved that the Infinite Realms had every right to declare war on the Living and its citizens would be drafted to fight in the Legion, regardless of mortality status. 

John was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was not a soldier or a fool.

He would be called to arms, as a magic user and battle-blooded soldier. There would be no choice, no deal he could make that would see his fate change. 

It was fortunate that the Regent didn’t want a war, but there was only so much she could do to hold back the growing tide of angry entities that wanted vengeance on parents, siblings, and children taken from them. 

(Ancients above and below, he needed a drink.)

It was times like this that brought the Regent back to her long days of training in the Acropolis. The echo of steel against steel, dodging ecto-blasts, deflecting weapons with her bracelets, Pandora’s steady words…

Pandora was many things- Leader of the Acropolis, Guardian of Hope, teacher, advisor, so on and so forth.

Pandora might be a ghost, an Amazon tasked with guarding her box, a Warrior of the ages past, but she was ultimately the Ancient of Peace. 

The Peace she never knew in life, war-hardened as she was. Raised with one hand clutching a weapon and the other an open palm, Pandora was a diplomat at heart. War had not been kind to her, but still, she taught her pupil (the Regent) the importance of listening. 

Many issues could be solved when one took the time to shut their mouth. 

Draw weapon, draw blood.

Aim at nothing you’re not willing to destroy.

If your opponent believes they have the upper hand, break it.

(These are just a few rules of war.) 

(She knew them all by heart.)

(Each one ingrained on her body, scars a testament to a faith in her training and herself.) 

The only rule Pandora had given her where to concerned Peace was this: 

Reach for it, but know that hearts aren’t so easily swayed as minds. 

It was why Jasmine never bothered trying to negotiate with the GIW. Their hearts were black and there was no changing their minds. 

Here she was, summoned by the Justice League with their own diplomatic trained Amazon at the ready. Pandora would be proud of her sister-in-arms, because despite the Regent’s unknown threat potential Wonder Woman had not reached for the sword at her side. Instead, she’d done a traditional Amazon greeting, from one warrior to another, a sign of respect that Jasmine had not expected to ever receive outside the Acropolis. 

“We had expected to summon the King, but were unaware of a Regent, my lady.” Wonder Woman spoke, but Constantine interrupted whatever she would have said next. 

“We wanted to discuss the possibility of war against the living, Regent.” 

Jasmine snorted, the voice-modulating function of her helmet made it sound funny to her ears, “Blunt as always, Constantine. You’re worried I would order you against your allies?” 

The Sad Trenchcoat Man blinked once, twice, “Bloody Hell, you don’t waste time, do ya?” 

“You possess the power to command Constantine?” 

That question had come from Lady Gotham’s first Knight, steady with no discernible emotion in voice. His hands were resting on his utility belt, which was a bad sign of his current judgment of her character. 

“For the sake of honesty, yes, Dark Knight, as the keeper of his Soul Remnants, I could command the Magician to do my bidding.” The Regent continued, “However, it was a gift and Phantom is fond enough of the Sad one that I wouldn’t use it unless I had no other choice.” 

“What would constitute ‘no other choice’?” 

Huh, Jasmine was starting to understand why Phantom chose Batman to give the Ghost Files too. She could feel the determination and protectiveness radiating off his soul, a familiar (though less powerful) sensation she only got from her little brother. 

“War.” The Regent retorted, “I’m beginning to understand why Phantom would choose you, Knight.” 

Constantine perked up a bit, “Didn’t you avenge him?” 

“Yes.” 

Wonder Woman came forward again, “My Lady, we wish to discuss the conditions of Peace between the Living and the Infinite Realms.” 

Jasmine smiled a bit sadly, though no one could see it, “I would be honored to.” 

If anyone asked, Red Hood did not swoon when he witnessed his future wife girlfriend kick a man straight in the balls so hard he saw God. 

Jazz was a beacon during a Gotham night, beautiful red hair seeming to catch fire with every light that danced across it, shoulders back and head held high his girl resumed her steady pace towards her apartment. This was a typical night for them, minus the would-be mugger and Jazz being unaware of the Red Hood following from above to make sure she got home safely. 

(Jason hadn’t been able to convince her to carry a gun.)

(Nonetheless, he knew his girl could take care of herself, but that didn’t stop the worry.) 

Hood wasn’t convinced about the safety of the area bordering his Alley, The Ridge,  with two relatively unknown metas acting as it’s Vigilantes and seeming to drive down the crime rate in the neighborhood to near extinction faster than he’d seized control of his own territory. It was odd that the metas weren’t crossing into the Alley, seeming to go around it and more into Gotham proper when they decided to roam, as if they respected the Red Hood claim more than the other bats. 

(Wasn’t that just a hoot.) 

(Two non-bats had more respect for him than his own family.) 

The Ridge was the lesser known little brother to Crime Alley, with its residents being mostly three-jobs and a drug problem demographic, but with Phantom and Regent the area had begun to show a bit more life. Sure, most of the builds were on the wrong side of dilapidated, hanging on with duct tape and a wad of gum, but when it was just bright out enough- no matter the time of day- Phantom’s ice can be seen glinting from miles around as it curved itself around foundations and floors to stabilize the structures. It hadn’t melted in the slightest the two months since it’s been formed. Hood had even tried to get a sample for testing, but the ice would not budge. Hell, he’d even taken a cheap shot at it- nothing. Well, except for the fact that you could now see a bullet encased within the ice. 

Phantom was a chill guy, apparently. 

(Hood internally groaned at the unintentional pun.) 

(Quick mental note made to shoot Dick in… well, the dick.) 

Red Hood had been gritting his teeth against the warm sensations of protect-anxiety-nervous for days, sensing danger every time he closed his eyes. Something had invaded Gotham and was messing with the Pit. 

No, not the Pit. The Pit was gone, no longer bubbling in his gut or green edging his vision, it was gone and replaced with something else. 

Something that gave him trouble, but was definitely a step up from Pit Madness. 

(And what a time for it to vanish, with Jason dating Jazz no more bloody nightmares when she was in his arms.)

He’d followed that ball of anxiety in his chest across Gotham, unconsciously avoiding Bruce’s usual patrol route and he climbed up to one of the gargoyles that kept vigil over the clock tower. Barbie hadn’t opened the comms to ask him what the hell are you doing here, but he wasn’t going to waste what little time he had with Phantom before he had to return to the Alley. 

The kid wasn’t older than Tim, but was ethereal in his form that felt cold to Hood. There wasn’t any sign that Phantom had been hurt by the Drs. Fenton, but Hood was all too aware of how looks could be deceiving. 

(The fuckers had vivisected him.) 

With every word passed between them, had Hood confirming the Ghost Files information to be accurate as far as Phantom was concerned. He was a teenager, a ghost in Gotham who was under the protection of the Regent and Ghost King. 

(Though incredibly corrupted, Barbara had been able to find a few frames of clarity.) 

(Lo and behold, the death of those bastards.) 

(He knew he recognized the armored figure, but couldn’t figure it out.) 

(It was right there on the tip of his tongue.) 

That same ball of anxiety loosened its hold with Phantom, a sense of protect-worry overwhelmed whatever else was in his chest. 

Phantom was a kid, ghost or not, vigilante or not. 

(No more dead robins.) 

It took two days and twelve hours for Jason to finally connect the dots between Regent and why in Hell he felt he knew the armored knight. 

Jazz was in her kitchen, hair braided and swinging back and forth against her back as she hummed and swayed in time with the soft music playing. His girl looked good in his Gotham Knights t-shirt, shorts revealing her toned thighs and legs, neckline of her borrowed shirt riding low enough to reveal several hickies he’d left on her earlier on the couch. Pride warmed his chest as he watched his darling Jazz, love for her settled deep into his bones. He knew she was the one for him, no going back, even if she didn’t know everything about him-Red Hood, his death, etc.

Jazz was made of steel and iron, forged with love and cracked with betrayal. Who had betrayed her in the past was obvious, her parents, their death must’ve been a mixed bag. Not to mention making the decision to allow their souls to be claimed by the Regent of the Infinite Realms. 

He had no doubt she would be unafraid of his nighttime persona, but he didn’t think he could handle her judgment of his past sins. He loved her too much and wanted to be good. 

The music stopped, dragging Jason out of his thoughts to find Jazz watching him with concern plain on her face. 

“Jace?” She lightly called for him, helpless to her he rose and gently wrapped her in his arms, her head tucked comfortably under his chin. 

“I’m ok, Jazz, just have a lot on my mind.” 

His girl hummed lightly, the sound vibrating slightly through Jason’s chest where her head rested. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“They’re not worth that much.” 

Jazz pinched his side in retaliation for his lightly self-demeaning comment, but ultimately let it go. Another reason he loved her, she didn’t tolerate his bullshit. She’d been horrified to hear his comments about his self-worth, as much as he was joking, and had firmly threatened to punt his ass into the sun if he didn’t start getting a better self-image. 

To his credit, he listened and began seeing Harley for counseling, which he knew he’d needed when he’d finally gotten a working braincell again after his dip in the line green Kool-aid. He’d put it off long enough, believing that the Pit wouldn’t let him remain calm enough to discuss his abandonment issues and mental health. 

The Pit wasn’t churning in his gut anymore so any anger he felt was all Jason’s, and Jason’s alone. It was oddly satisfying to know that he was once again responsible for how he handled his anger. 

Jazz never really demanded anything, only insisting on some boundaries at the start of their relationship when it was difficult to keep his hands to himself while she was in his sight. His darling was the same this why she set those boundaries so they could get to know each other without it just devolving into sex. 

Sure, they have done some heavy petting and Jason definitely liked leaving his mark on her, but they hadn’t felt compelled to go further. Now that they had been together a little over a month the heat between them settled into a slow summer in his blood, no more threat of them acting like a pair of degenerate dumbasses with lesser brain function. 

Not that Jason would ever be against having sex with Jazz, he loved her and wanted to know her in every sense, but he had to confess several things before he could allow himself to be put off guard with his pants down. The big Y-incision scar on his chest was horrific and Jason didn’t want to scare his girl away before he had a chance to come clean. He wanted, no, needed Jazz to accept every part of him- life, death, Jason and Red Hood. He was ready for her to know the truth. 

What he wasn’t ready for, like last time, was the bomb.

A/N: Yes, beta read by @meditating-cat! Great beta reader, really appreciate the quick response and notes. Thanks!

We're gonna have a bit of a time jump between the summoning and the cliffhanger, which means that Jazz being summoned happens after. I wrote it this way for a reason... I think. Don't quote me on that.

Anyways, special red tint this time, because I just watched Death in the Family for the first time before writing this part and...I didn't like it. No, I'm not sure why I don't either. Jason is my favorite character for a reason.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go read Wayne family adventures to make myself feel better.

Thanks for reading!

PS: 3k words???

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 17

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Are we ready to hate Andy some more? It seems to be a pattern around here.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Your head swells, throbbing even in the silence. You can hear Andy once in a while, distant and vague, moving around the floor below. You hug your stomach as it caves in on itself. You know you’re hungry but the thought of food just makes you nauseous. You stay hidden, behind your eyelids, beneath the blankets, and wallow in hellish agony.

The pain dulls as you hear the window rattle. You dare to glance past your lashes and see a few droplets along the glass, the sky dark and swarthy with clouds. The glare of streetlights glints off the pelleting rain as it speckles the window.

Some pressure lets off but not enough. You roll over and sink down again. You long for sleep, you crave it. Those long, deep sleeps that make the hours disappear, that skew days, and help forget your life. That heavy void next to death.

You hover between the guest room and your unconscious. Like a pendulum you swing between what’s real and the doubts that paint dire visions on your eyelids. Amber’s pleas at the library, her accusations, her disappointment. You almost want to believe she’s telling the truth. That maybe you are wrong.

Even if you are, it’s too late. That futility drags you further down the pit. You fall onto your back and drape your arm over your face. You whimper as your whole body aches.

“Dove,” Andy’s voice startles you.

You let your arm slip down to your chest as you see his shadow in the doorway. He fills it easily, appearing even bigger as the light behind from the hallway limns his silhouette. He steps over the threshold and closes the door. You whimper as you lose him in the dark. You can’t tell if this is a nightmare or not.

He finds his way to the small lamp on the bedside table, a loud click before it blooms to life. You groan again as he looks down at you. His hands go to his hips as you shield yours over your eyes. Even the soft yellow haze is too much for you.

You shut your eyes and feel the bed shift. He sits on the edge and you wince as he touches your arm. He is as hot as fire. You want him to go. You want to be alone. The only person who’s ever seen you like this is Amber, you don’t want him to know how truly pathetic you are.

“Hey,” he coos softly, “you alright?”

Your mouth is dry. Your throat too. You have to peel your tongue back to make it work and swallow deeply, trying to wet it. Your voice crackles as you force it out, “sleepy. My head hurts.”

“Aw, honey,” he touches your forehead. His warmth is almost soothing as he covers your skin with his palm. The scent of his cologne whispers up your nose. “How about I get you some tea? You should have something to drink at least.”

“I’m… just going to sleep,” you wilt as you try to turn your face away from him. He is too strong. “I’m okay…”

“Honey,” he girds as he brings his hand down your cheek and strokes it, “you haven’t been eating. I’m not stupid. Have some tea, that’s the least you can do.”

“Andy…” you squeak and reach up to touch the back of his hand, only to recoil shyly as you feel the thick veins along the back of it, “I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Dove, you’re going to sit up,” he insists, trailing his hand down your neck, a shiver crawling over you as his other brushes up your arm.

When he has you firmly by the shoulders, he sits you up. You whimper as the stabbing pain it sends up your spine to the base of your skull. Your head lolls forward and you hold it, whining at the thrumming agony.

“Andy… please,” you croak, “I need to sleep.”

“No, you need to take care of yourself,” he retorts, leaning in to fix the pillows behind you. He stacks them up and props you back against them, “alright, you stay like that,” he folds the blanket to your waist, “and I’ll go make you some tea.”

“It hurts,” you keep your head in your hand, “I told you…”

“Look, Amber let you be like this, because that meant she could control you,” he rests his hand on your leg. You twitch and keep your face hidden as you peek past your palm, staring at his fingers. On you. Touching you. “You’re not going to fall back into old habits, right, honey?”

He finally moves his hand away from your lap and pulls yours from your face, “you’re going to be better, I know it. You know, I’m just helping you. I’m helping break the patterns she made.” He gives a stern frown, “she conditioned you to be like this, you are not this.”

“Please,” you yank your hand down and clasp both over your chest, “I’m tired… I feel sick.”

“You aren’t sick. You’ve been starving yourself,” he accuses, “you’re lucky I didn’t make you sit at that table and clear a plate. What I am going to do is watch you drink the tea I make you. All of it.”

He stands and heaves darkly. You move your arms to hug yourself and hang your head. You’re ashamed. Amber was never like this, she was always subtle, she never accused you. But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s right. She only enabled your helplessness.

You sniff, “thank you, Andy.”

He hums, gristly like a growl, and touches your hair, “I’m only trying to help, dove.”

“I know,” you squeak and keep your eyes down, ashamed.

He turns stiffly on his heel. You wait as he leaves, almost reluctantly, and shudder as another tide of pain flows through you. You ache to the bone, your insides feel as if they’re peeling away, and your head is pounding like a drum.

You let your head fall back against the pillows as you slouch into them. You don’t have the strength to sit up. Your arms slip down and your hands lay lazily on your lap.

You listen to the small clinks and creaks from below. The house muffles a lot of sound, you might even assume the little noises were nothing more than the natural settling of the house. Andy’s footsteps aren’t clear until they’re down the hall and you brace yourself for his arrival.

He comes into the room with a steaming cup. You notice the gray dove painted on the porcelain, a string of leaves framing it. He lowers himself to the edge of the bed again and takes your hand. He puts the cup in your hand, weaving your fingers through the handle before cautiously letting go.

You bring the rim near your nose and inhale. You blow away the steam but it rises quickly again. You feel the heat roiling off of it. You lower it to rest in your lap and raise your drooping eyes to Andy. He’s watching you intently.

“I’m sorry,” you utter.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, “I’m worried. I wanna make sure you’re okay. You being sorry means I’m angry. I’m not.”

You gulp down your words. He sure sounds angry. You look back at the amber coloured tea. It smells slightly gingery but you’re not sure of the flavour.

“Promise, I’ll drink it.”

“Like I said, I’m not going until you do,” he says.

“It’s really hot.”

“So wait for it to cool down,” he instructs as if you’re a child. “I don’t mind waiting.”

You languish in the ensuing silence. Your eyes are drawn to the subtle twiddle of his fingers, how he runs his thumb up the side of his index. You only notice then that he’s changed. He’s in a pair of gray sweats and a dark blue tee. He must be on his way to bed. That thought makes you feel worse; you’re keeping him awake.

You raise the cup and blow on it again. You brave the scald of the tea and take a big gulp. You force it down as the heat rolls over you. It is soothing if not a bit stringent.

“Good,” he says as he turns his head, “is it okay?”

“Mhhm,” you nod, not able to muster the fib out loud. The flavour tugs at your cheeks and clings to your tongue.

“Dove,” he softens his tone, “I’m sorry if I come across angry, it’s not what I mean, you know? I always had that problem. My worry translates to something else. I could never be angry with you, but I’m scared.”

“Scared?” You lean the cup on your chest, cradling it with both hands.

“Yeah, I’m scared for you,” he says as if it’s obvious, “seeing you the way you’ve been, I want you to be healthy. I want you to be happy.”

Your eyes sting and you lower your lashes. You’re embarrassed. Despite all your effort, he saw through you.

“Tomorrow’s a new day, huh? You’ll get up and have breakfast with me, and we’ll start again,” he puts his hand on your knee, squeezing through the blankets, “I’m here for you, honey. We’re in this together.”

You stare into the tea. His words make your heart race. Together? His touch adds to the fluttering. His thumb moves, back and forth, and you repress a shudder. You never noticed before how often he touches you. You’re not used to it.

“Okay…” you resign to the depths of the tea, “I’ll try.”

🍵

You don’t get out of bed the next day. You can’t. You hug a pillow over your head, your tears staining the bedsheet as they slip out unbidden. You feel that hollowness, the sort in which you feel like everything inside you is just draining out of you.

When Andy comes down the hall, you hear him. You listen to the bathroom door click and the subsequent flush of the toilet. There’s some time before he emerges again and he continues to the stairs. You exhale, thinking he might have forgotten your empty promise.

No. He returns. He steps echoing and sonorous in your mind as he comes back upstairs. He taps on your door. You don’t move. He knocks louder and calls your name. You can’t.

He opens the door, “dove,” he says.

You stay still, arm hooked over the pillow you keep over your head. You sense him get near but don’t react as you feel him grip your shoulder. He shakes you but you don’t respond. It’s as if he exists on the other side of a wall. 

“Dove, come on, I’m gonna get breakfast ready,” his voice sounds miles away despite his proximity, “you like pancakes?”

Your stomach growls loudly. You let it constrict but don’t move. You feel a tug on the pillow and grasp it tighter. Can’t he take a hint? Go away. Leave me alone.

He grabs the pillow with both hands and rips it away. You cry out and hide beneath your bent arm. He sighs as he tosses the pillow onto the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” He rasps.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to explain it. You are not doing this, but you can’t stop it. You can’t do anything, that’s the problem.

“You have a lot to do. Work on your resume? Do some painting?” He says it as if it should be encouraging, as if it isn’t oppressive and crushing. “Spend some time with me, dove.” He bends over you, rubbing your shoulder, “you’re okay. Let me take care of you, honey.”

You sniffle and remain shielded behind your arm. You feel the tension change in his touch as he grips you firmly. He puts a knee on the bed, leaning on it.

“Don’t ignore me,” his voice takes on an edge that chills you. 

You suck back your tears and shake your head, speaking into the mattress, “please, go… leave me alone–”

“Honey, don’t speak to me like that,” he warns, “I’m being nice and very patient. You’ll feel better once you eat but you need to get up and get dressed.”

You tremble in a surge of dread and guilt. He’s figuring it out. You’re useless, you’re nothing. 

You wriggle free of his hand and roll onto your back. You push yourself up, dizzy and wobbling as you can barely keep yourself upright. You look at him through the dim shadow of the drawn curtains.

“Please, I can’t–”

“Stop saying that,” he hisses, “you can. Why are you being like this?”

“Andy,” you whimper.

“Is this because of her? Because your sister? You know she was only ever using her and you’re what? Crying over her? I’m trying to help you move on. To help you grow. She never wanted that for you–”

“No, no! Be quiet. Don’t say that,” you cover your ears, “please, stop–”

He goes to say something but thinks better of it. You watch how his jaw squares and ticks, “but it’s the truth. You were just a toy for her. She could play with her doll and make herself feel more human.”

“Please,” you beg, panic swirling in your chest, “please, that’s not true.”

“You know it is, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you left her. Dove, you did that, not me.”

“Please, please, please,” you hunch over your knees, hugging them as you rock, “stop it. Stop.”

“I’m not going to stop telling the truth,” he sneers, “but you’re going to stop acting like a child. You’re going to get out of bed and come eat–”

He grabs your wrist and tugs it away from your legs. You feel a sudden bloom, a frantic sort of sensation, fear that drowns you to the point of gasping. You lash out with your other hand, hitting his wrist as you free your other arm. He grunts as you fall back against the mattress.

“What– why would you do that?” He growls.

“You were hurting me.”

“I’m helping you,” he insists, “you are being a brat.”

“I’m not. I told you to leave me–”

“You’re in my house, this is my bed, my room, my kindness that you are living on,” he barks over you. You wince and reel from the sheer volume, the furious tone of his voice, “the least you can do is get dressed and come eat breakfast with me.”

You clutch your cheeks and pout at him, “why are you yelling?”

He sighs and his eyes flicker. You shrink down as you stare up at him. He crosses his arms, then pulls them apart. He brings his hands up to his face and combs his fingers through his beard.

“I don’t like to yell,” his voice cracks, “I don’t yell, dove.” He turns away, “I’ve never… I’m sorry.” He strides away, still holding one side of his head, “not until you.”

He staggers, as if he can barely keep his balance, and leaves the door open in his stead. You stare after him and it all sinks in. It’s all your fault. He’s right. You’re a child, a brat, and you pushed him over the edge. He’s done all this for you and all you can do is lay in bed and mope.

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Morning Sickness

TCG-grace lives

Tommy cares for Grace during a hard time in her second pregnancy

__________________________________________________________

“No smoking around Grace! If you are wearing any perfume, cigarette smoke or strong food odors you are to change immediately, bath, I don't care. Grace needs to gain weight for this baby eh.” Tommy gestured to everyone and raised his voice to be heard.

The doctor had just left and he was going to make sure everyone knew what the expectation was going forward to keep his pregnant wife safe and healthy.

Tommy had assembled the staff around the expansive stairs to make his announcement. He’d been grateful to see everyone.

Sandra even stood outside Charlie's nursery playing horsey on the ground so she could listen too.

“Daddy.” he yelled and flashed his little wooden horse not to be outdone by his fathers booming voice. Tommy shook his head and placed a finger to his lips to silence the boys

“I’ll be there in a minute Charlie.” Tommy looked at all the serious faces. They seemed to understand. They knew he would enforce this rule by any means necessary for Grace's comfort.

“Right, this is effectively immediately dismissed.” He walked up the stairs as quietly as he could creeping past their room. He walked into the door frame leaned over the corner of the wall trying to hear or catch a glimpse of his sick wife.

He heard her retching over the toilet. His heart twisted and his stomach tightened like a bolt.

She looked almost gaunt now, pale and tired. He hated knowing that their little blessing was causing its mother so much agony.

Not that Grace ever complained. She was thrilled to be pregnant again in spite of everything. She was hoping for a girl.

Tommy didn’t care as long as Grace pulled through safely.

He walked out and found Charlie making a ruckus on the landing.

“Hey, come here.”The precocious boy ran towards his father, arms outstretched and flung his little body at his strong, broad shoulders father.

“Let's go down and grab mummy some nibbles eh, some crackers to soothe her tummy?” He wasn’t really asking. He knew Sandra needed a quick break.

“I want some biscuits.” Tommy scoffed. They hadn’t made any this week. John and Arthur had polished off the last of them in the jar on their last visit a few days ago.

“Sandra, go make biscuits with Charlie.” Tommy followed the height in a different pair,hot on their heels. He intended to watch over her himself today.

________________________________________________________________-

Grace, love, are you awake.” He called softly hoping to not disturb his blonde wife. He appeared around the corner carrying a plate of crackers, grapes, bread and light jams.

‘Yeah, unfortunately.” He smiled at her. She was propped up against the headboard of their curved wooden bed reading a magazine. At least she looked comfortable for now.

“Oh, Tommy, you didn’t have to do that.” She tossed the paper aside and tried scooting up. He shook his head no and with his free hand he pointed back to the pillows willing her to go back to resting.

“Dr.s orders yeah, said getting something dry and light might help ward off the sickness a bit.” He placed the large wooden tray on her lap. He’d even thought to brew her tea. Polly had sent some over with the hopes that the peppermint would sooth the child and the vomiting.

“Or make it worse.” She quipped quickly. She still had her sharp wits about her. He kissed her head gently.

“Enjoy.” He had tried turning to walk to the little table he’d set up in their bedroom. He could work but stay close in case she needed him. Something she found very touching.

“If you really want to help me calm the baby down…” Her voice took on a soft seductive tilt. Tommy smirked at her and chuckled. Even sick she couldn’t keep her hands off him…or her deliciously dirty mind apparently. Not that he would ever complain about that.

“After you get some food settled in your stomach…then we'll talk Grace.” He sat down and watched her briefly before shuffling through his stack of papers.

“It’ll help me relax too.” Her voice floated through the room still suggesting a playful romp with him.

“After….you eat something. I want you to be full. No nibbling and declaring yourself done eh. You're feeding two people.” He adjusted his glasses back up on his face. She laughed at his attempt to look annoyed by sliding them down and looking up at her through his thick full lashes.

She loved it when he played back with her.

“I think your child could survive on air, like her father.” He rolled his eyes at her dig with his erratic eating habits. He only ate when he had time and wasn’t busy which in truth wasn’t often.

______________________________________________

He’d gotten quite a bit of drafting done on his work before she cleared her voice demanding his attention.

“Done, put down the papers Tommy, you made me a promise.” She sounded impatient and curt. He laughed and rubbed the bridge of his nose ready to gently challenge her.

“Did I? I distinctly remember saying we’d talk about Grace, not that it would happen.” He teased gently. Her pale sharp eyebrow rose disapprovingly. She looked over to a now empty try, he was pleasantly surprised. How could he refuse?

“Alright, settle down girl. I’m coming.” He stood slowly removing his glasses and drying off his ink stained hands, aware he was keeping her on pins and needles.

“It’s been twenty minutes, I feel better.” She wasn;t going to allow him to taunt her anymore. She wanted him now.

“We stop if you get sick, Yes.” He crossed the room and removed the tray, placing it on the ground. He sat next to her being mindful not to rock the bed too much and get her motion sick.

“Hey, my eyes are up here Grace. Not under my belt.” He laughed and raised his hand to stop hers from gently smacking him in the chest. She giggled at his joke at her expense.

She gently laid down on her side facing him. Their hands and mouths gently reacquainted when she suddenly froze and pushed him back against the pillows.

He groaned when she’d practically lept up and ran to the bathroom slamming the door closed behind her.

He laid his head down smelling her scent around him. At least she’d gotten some nutrients into her.

He sighed audibly and sat up knowing they were done now. She would need to rest, he’d make sure she did.

He hoped the doctor was right and it'll pass soon at least for Grace's sake.

[numberonetacostan]

hi shrimpy here ! im begging you to ramble more about the mephone telling taco about their programming because i wanna know how people like pickle and mic and mepad (lets pretend he's here ok ? ok. im coping) wpuld react to the " taco was meant to win " + " she was meant to have redemption arc " thing :3

Hiya Shrimpy!!!!!^^ Welcome back, AND THANK YOU FOR ASKING FOR MORE RAMBLES ABOUT TACO BEING BUILT TO WIN AND FINDING OUT AND AAAAAAAAAAAA (((o(≧▽≦)o)))

Before I get to how Pickle, Mic, and Mepad react to the news, one aspect I didn't mention in my previous rambles!!! Upon finding out, Taco glitches out!!! In the same way that Knife and Suitcase did while they were with Cobs. She's so shaken, distraught, angry, despondent, that it affects the core of her being enough to start glitching her. She'd probably stay a tad glitchy for quite some time. It would get better as she does, but that would take a while, and I'd imagine she's always a tad glitchy when the subject gets brought up.

We're going to start with Mepad because I love him!! And because I have two options for him- one that's uh. in line with canon and one in which he's alive!!!! So, in line with canon, he unfortunately isn't really there to help Taco through this. He's dead :(. But!! I subscribe to the train of thought that Mepad's body is kept in the Gemory Cave, as it's a place where his body will stay safe and dry, as well as being where he woke up for the first time. It's full circle and makes me want to cry because I miss him. My own yearning aside, I think Taco would go to see him. She has reconnected with Mic by now, and was working on changing and building new relationships before she found out the news (I definitely think there's... not exactly a regression from her, she doesn't go back to being villainous, but her social progress is so very stalled and her emotions are all thrown out of whack and into a meat grinder again, yeah?), but Mepad is the one she's really managed to open herself up to, yeah? She feels safe doing that with him, talking honestly to him with her walls down <3!!! So she would go to him. Even if he can't answer her, give her advice, soothe her, he's still there physically. She would spend hours ranting at him, sobbing, shouting, getting the emotional relief that she's only ever been able to get with him.

Living Mepad on the other hand? Well, his immediate attention would be on Taco and trying to help her, especially once she starts crying and/or glitching. He'd probably be the one to snap her out of her spiraling here, getting her to slow her breathing at least somewhat, but he would also respect her wish to be alone when she expresses it. He would not let Mephone get close enough to try and stop her like he did in my previous ramble, so she could simply walk off to lock herself in her room. He would definitely go after her soon after, especially after she becomes rather... loud, in her agony, but first? Mephone. We all saw Mepad in episode 17 after Mephone reveals the truth of their origins to most of the cast. Mepad was angry!!!! And to think that Mephone, knowing he had made her to be the way she was and that her programming was more or less malfunctioning, still didn't want to recover her? Was fine to leave her to her suffering? Someone so personally close to Mepad? Who he has more insight into the suffering of? Mepad would be downright furious. He's got a pretty cool temper, from what we've seen, he wouldn't be shouting at Mephone exactly, but he would firmly and immediately be asked to leave. Mepad would prioritize Taco's well-being, of course, and be so very soft with her, but on the inside he is so pissed. The second chance Mepad had given Mephone has long since been ruined, but this? Mepad and Mephone are so so so so divorced. They were never married but they are so very divorced.

Mepad would be so important in helping Taco heal, though. He's already an incredible thera-pad anyways!!! And hey, she may not have gotten the redemption arc she was supposed to, but know they know it was supposed to happen, yeah? She is undoubtably capable of being better!! And he'll be with her ever step of the way <3.

IF HE WASN'T DEAD *dissolves into wet sobbing*

Well this is getting long lol. Onto Mic!!! Uh. She would also be pissed at Mephone but prioritize Taco!!!! When Taco runs out because she needs a moment alone? Yeah, Mic already displays a habit of saying some really hurtful things when she's upset, Mephone would get kicked out a lot harsher. And then Mic would protect Taco with her life actually. I can see Taco having a pretty nasty depressive episode after finding out, but Mic would so be there to take care of her, make sure she eats, get her fresh air even if that's Mic scooping Taco up and carrying her around outdoors for a while. Mic would feel so very bad for her. This is a bit of a tangent, but I honestly don't have as much to say about Mic beyond her glomping Taco with so so much love and support, because I truly think that's her most prominent reaction. She might lay awake a few nights, thinking about how things between them could have been different had Taco gotten the life she was supposed to, but they're back together now and Taco is changing and that's that. (Also, if she realizes that losing her was the reason Taco was finally able to break from her programming, her heart would fill with so much love for real. Taco really cares so much for her, even if she can't always express it the right way.) Anyways, I think everyone would feel pretty bad for Taco. Between her reaction, her having lost pretty much everything she was supposed to have for something that wasn't really her fault, the relatable struggle they all have with going against their programming? I can see most of if not the entire cast being a lot lighter on Taco after this. It's okay for them to be too, she'd be even more fearful and cautious of backsliding than she already is post-canon, which is a lot!!!!! So, yeah, lots of forehead kisses, hugs, and warm cups of hot chocolate for Taco from Mic <3.

On to Pickle!!!! ...hoo boy. Well, for obvious reasons he isn't part of the initial Taco Support Gang, but he would still have a lot of thoughts!!! Particularly on the part in which Mephone had planned him and Taco to actually reconcile and be friends again. Because forgiving someone isn't really something you can always choose to do, yeah? You can give them grace, yeah, but there can still be a lot of hurt inside that never really goes away in a way that would really let you forgive. Even if he was supposed to forgive her, he can't. And that's okay!!!! But, as I am adamant on and have stated in the past, he wouldn't like to see Taco suffer. He! Is! Not! That! Kind! Of! Guy!!!!! He'd feel pretty bad hearing her sobbing through the walls and seeing her in a depressive episode!!!!! It brings him no joy or satisfaction!!! I think he and Taco might have a little one on one talk, in which Pickle could repeat some of the advice that Knife made to him, yeah? Can't change what happened, but dwelling on it forever and never trying to move on will just leave you stuck in your misery. And then a gut-wrenching (at least for me with the incredibly vivid scene of this i have in my mind. i think im hyperphantasic but thats not what we're talking about rn) little "I'm sorry" "I know" discussion. Augh. They part on better terms than they were before, but there's still a hollow sense of loss to it. What could have been, what should have been, will not be.

Let me know if you have any more questions!!!^^

[tenko-thinks]

Okay okay now the pregnancy prompt with the Hantengu clones please? 🍿👀

(Would Urogi's result in an egg 🤔 Bonus if Urogi's has wings too and starts flying after like two months or something lol)

MAMA ( NON GENDERED ) THE POPCORN PLEASE. These will be shorter bc there's four mfs on this post

The Hantengu clones with a pregnant s/o + Fathering hcs

Cws : pregnancy, labor and childbirth ( nondescript ) , karaku is . Like that , sekido has like some implied toxic behavior but what do u want from me

Sekido

Pregnancy with sekido... Godspeed ladies and others with the ability to get knocked up.

He notices the change in your demeanor almost immediately. You avoiding him and being skittish.

Of course it pisses him off, figuring you're hiding something from him. He'll grab you by the arm and yell "out with it! There's no way a mortal like you would be stupid enough to cheat right!?"

And when you say you're pregnant he thinks he might be wrong on that assumption until you tell him without a doubt that it's his. Then he's just... Stumped? Doesn't know how to process that information.

During the duration of the pregnancy he's skeptical. And keeps tabs on you constantly. The idea of a demon siring is so unheard of it's only natural that he'd worry about loyalty.

God awful when it comes to handling hormones and mood swings. He doesn't know how to soothe you and ends up frustrated with himself which leads to an explosion on the other clones. Never you. He knows stress could kill the child, after all. He's not daft.

Even if he grumbles, sekido is very willing and happy to massage your ankles and any other soreness from your body.

When labor comes knocking? Sekido is snapping at the other three constantly as they flounder around uselessly. Flailing with the midwife watching them like a group of crazy people.

It's too silent comparatively when you're screaming in agony and all he can do is hold your hand while Urogi and Karaku offer platitudes he can't.

A daughter. Small and so so frail compared to her father. Resting in his arms as you recover from the task of birth.

Sekido has never claimed to be a perfect man. And he will never claim to be a perfect father.

He snaps at the little girl often . And will often apologize by offering her gifts. Words have never been his strong suit.

He gets worse as she ages. Not towards her , but the idea of her getting older. Relying on him less.

Protective and stern dad. No boyfriends.

Karaku

"How much sex have you been having without me??"

Punch him in the mouth first of all. But he's a tease through and through. Especially if you're a monogamous sort.

He "accuses" you of cheating despite knowing well and good you almost certainly haven't. Especially when he hardly lets you leave your home. He just likes getting you defensive and huffy!!

He's honestly pretty surprised though! Demons aren't supposed to have kids! Boy is your womb built different!

Karaku pouts when your hormones make you anything else other than horny. It's the one he's best suited to handling!! And you're just gonna be a bitch because your brain chemicals are off kilter? Weak.

Despite being a brat he's actually rather attentive. Being a creature of pleasure, Karaku is the most adjusted to being around humans and interacting with them. So he knows how to placate you!

Likes to tease about silly cravings you have though. So long as he thinks you can handle it.

Labor? Karaku has left the building in order to scream into the wilderness give him 10 minutes. He wants to not overwhelm you while you're busy pushing something out of you.

When he returns he's ignoring sekido's glower in favor of returning to your side and helping you through the process.

And as his son is born all he can think about is how gorgeous you are. All exhausted. But so much stronger than so many slayers hes faced! He thinks at least.

Kara is a fun dad kind of guy. One who prioritizes play over discipline or academics. So those will fall to you for the most part. He's not incapable. Just... annoying?

You have come home to Karaku lodged in a half broken wall because he thought it a good idea to hand a three year old his uchiwa.

You know that meme of the mom scolding the kid , the dad stepping in and proceeding to get scolded? Yeah that's karaku.

Aizetsu

"It's sad, knowing you're lying to me."

Is his dead ass reaction, and bro just straight up starts to walk away. You have to grab him and insist several times you went to the doctor and confirmed it!! You even have the doctor's note!

Aizetsu still doesn't believe it until you start to show symptoms. Only then does he stop sulking about your cruel prank on him.

Holds your hair back as you suffer from morning sickness. What a champ. Even if he's grossed out.

He's the most attentive and empathetic of the clones!! The best at giving words of affirmation when you're crying over silly things. Or when he tells you he won't let you eat rocks.

Sometimes if you're lucky you can catch a glimpse of a smile when he's looking at your bump growing. He likes having his hand there. Assuring himself that it's real and not some dream.

Aizetsu speaks to your stomach often, telling your child about his day and asking questions. He has full on conversations with them!

To be honest... labor? Aizetsu will probably black out and/or faint throughout the entire process. Coming to when Karaku is shaking him about how cute his new daughter is.

And he nearly ( does ) break down at the revelation that he has a little girl.

When he holds her for the first time he whispers to her how he'll never let her suffer or even know sorrow. While you're unconscious.

He stays true to his word as well. Whenever his daughter fusses he's there in an instant. Calming her. Feeding her. Whatever it is she needs. You wake up quite often to the sight of Aizetsu cradling her against his chest while waiting for you to wake up.

She becomes a spoiled princess because of it. But he wouldn't have her any other way. After all, he wants her happy.

Urogi

At first, Urogi is perplexed. Head cocked n all.

Now, to have eggs would insinuate having a cloaca and being fertilized. And I'm assuming you to be human.

So really it's more awe in how you are able to carry his children in the first place.

But he's ecstatic! Beyond excited!

Of course he'll have to ask around for advice but he's doing the best he can!! Running errands for you, making sure you're comfortable, etc

His method of dealing with your hormones is to try and make you laugh. In any way he can. Jokes. Silly faces. Shock. So long as he can get you laughing!

Instinctively he makes a nest out of all of your blankets , pillows and towels. A place for you and his chicks to be safe! And warm!! Incubated!!

Insists that you birth in the nest! It's the best for the babies. Is what his instincts are telling him.

He wants to touch your bump, but with his talons he settles instead on resting his head on it. Listening for any movement and smiling in awe at how they move around.

Urogi handles labor surprisingly well. He's territorial of course, so the other three aren't allowed in. Only you, him and a midwife.

He cheers you on the entire time. Offering his arms to squeeze as to not harm you with talons. He'd much rather you not bleed out in the nest while giving birth. Especially because you got a vein with his claws.

Yet he hears two little cries. Apparently the first had been silent until her little sister had also escaped you.

And the first thing he noticed were the beautiful downy wings on their backs. Only paired with talon like feet. Much more human hands. Unlike his own.

He watched you hold them. Listening to the chittering chirping noises they made.

Oh what a day to be the clone of joy!

And he continues to think that when his two little girls are attempting ( in vain ) to flutter after him. Wings still far too downy to do any proper flying.

Preens them incessantly!! Hair and wings !! And he's elated to watch you do the same. Caring for them the same way he taught you to care for his!!

When the day they begin to fly at the age of three? He knows what anxiety is. Watching them clumsily flutter about like a hawk, and saving them any time they begin to falter.

It makes you laugh, how nervous he gets about something that used to absolutely drive him wild with excitement when they were born.

[amrass]

Excerpt from an upcoming fanfic / a character study of Anya

I've put my threeshot Triple Sun on hiatus to get better at writing Anya's character, so this is a companion piece to that fic but it works standalone. This excerpt has a few specific HCs of mine present 😎 No graphic warnings, but it is Mouthwashing and the focus is on the Anya & Curly & Jimmy relation, so it's intended to be unsettling.

Week 6:

Jimmy avoids her, but Anya feels as though he's inside the walls of the ship, through the echo of his jogging steps and loud breaths. 

He uses the hallways of the ship to exercise. She wonders if he does it to keep busy or to keep watch over the other crew members. He passes but he rarely enters the occupied rooms. The med-bay is Anya and Curly's, the lounge is Daisuke's, the utility room is Swansea's, and the cockpit probably still looks and smells like an opened tomb. She often knows exactly where Jimmy is because the echoing steps and breaths mimic the rise and fall of Curly's agony. When she tries to soothe him, also by playing music, Jimmy works out harder. It's a peculiar feeling, also due to an increasing sensitivity that extends to sound, like he's stomping across her spine. 

One night when he does post-workout stretches in the lounge and she happens to be there, she notices something uncanny: Jimmy is mimicking Curly's old stretching routine. 

She's sure about it, because just like she had functioned as a makeshift physiotherapist for Swansea and his bad back, she helped Curly modify and enhance his workout routine because of old injuries, which he'd sustained from unsupervised weightlifting in his twenties. The uncanniness rises from how insistent Jimmy is at doing the stretches that were not only fitted to Curly's specific injuries but also someone of his statue and strength, far too advanced for a layman. Jimmy overexerts himself, burns calories that they don't have, and curses loud enough to make her freeze. At least he doesn't ask her for advice. He can barely look at her.

She sometimes sees him near the medbay whenever she's lowered the lights and put a saline sheet on Curly's eye - when he can tolerate it - to mimic night. Jimmy stares more openly at Curly in moments where he cannot stare back. And yet there is relief among her fear and bitterness, a feeling like she can disappear within tendons and muscle, hiding within the drab and painful routine of their survival.

To be continued ...

[cherrycherish]

A hedge knight manages to vanquish a troublesome drake, and the local lord rewards him with a title, a small keep, and servants. The twist is, the knight unbirthed the dragon, locking the beast inside of his womb; so now he waddles about with a gut that nearly touches the floor, and requires lots of tending from his manservants~

"M'Lord?" The ever faithful servant Finn carefully applied more salve to his lord's behemoth of a belly, "Are you awake?"

Ash merely let out a pitiful groan in response, his skin stretched by the furious writhing of the drake he'd ensnared inside. From the engorged belly riddled with stretch marks and the miserable noises he was making, most people would never believe he was an accomplished and well respected knight only a month ago.

He hadn't exactly planned on trapping the dragon within himself, it had just sort of happened in the heat of the battle. At first he was convinced that he'd burst like a melon and the dragon would go free, but after spending a whole day clutching his giant gut in agony it became clear that the beast couldn't escape, and slowly, terribly slowly, it was indeed shrinking down. After patiently waiting for oh so long, Ash managed to get to his feet and waddle out of the dragon's lair, the beast easily thrice his size.

The other knights had successfully petitioned the local lord to give him a title for his great feat, and even helped collect the mass of gold the dragon had been hoarding in its lair, leaving Ash with a small mountain of money and a new, rather lavish estate. He felt incredibly grateful as he was certain his days as a knight were now behind him, and the only thing in front of him was his oversized belly.

The servants were also a blessing, as he was much too heavy to do things himself, he doubted he could even get dressed on his own. Finn and Lowry had immediately warmed to him upon being hired, tending to his every need and teasing him for sticking an entire dragon into his cunt. They were the only ones who knew the truth after spending so much time up close and personal with his overtaxed form.

The angry growls and movement were mostly hidden by his layered clothing and fairly reclusive lifestyle, but obviously he couldn't hide the truth from his closest servants. Luckily, they didn't seem bothered by his occupied womb, and he was enjoying finally getting to put his feet up and live a pampered lifestyle, even if he spent at least a quarter of his time nursing a stomachache from hell.

"I'm back!" Lowry said quietly, taking his place at Ash's unoccupied side, handing him a small vial, "The apothecary said that there's no way to force it to shrink any quicker, and this was the only thing that would help. She said you'll likely be stuck dealing with the movement until it shrinks down into an egg."

"And what's the potion do?"

"Erm, she spoke in riddles the whole time, so I'm not entirely sure, something about temperature control. She did advise to place coins in the mattress, apparently it soothes the beast."

Ash studied the murky contents of the vial before figuring that things couldn't exactly get much worse, and swallowed the fluid in one gulp. It tasted strange but not unbearable, and he wondered what exactly it would do to ease his condition.

Finn's warm hands continued to glide across the lord's form, paying extra attention to the angry red stretch marks littering his poor belly.

"Go fetch the lord's meal, it should be nearly ready."

Lowry pouted, climbing out of the large bed, "Fine, but when I get back I'm having a turn rubbing his belly."

Finn smiled and kissed at the skin above Ash's popped belly button, earning him a needy whimper for his efforts. The dragon forced one of its scaled paws against the walls of the womb, making Ash gasp and moan miserably. The dragon's size had diminished enough for it to move around much more freely than when he'd first captured it, before it could hardly move at all and now he feared it was going to rip right out of him.

As the former knight clutched his gut and waited for the beast to settle down, he wondered what that damn apothecary had given him. He still felt irritable and hot and stretched, why wasn't there a potion to shrink oversized lizards?

Lowry soon returned with a large cart of food and the smell of it seemed to settle the dragon, as it stopped trying to force its way out of him and finally curled back up. Ash's gut growled hungrily as his servants went about feeding him.

"I can feed myself, y'know?" He said between bites of food.

"We don't know what's upsetting the drake, M'Lord, it's best if you focus on recovering your strength." Lowry brought another bite to his lord's mouth, "After the beast has shrunk down, you'll have plenty of opportunities to stuff your fat face with your own hands."

"Urp! My face isn't fat."

Lowry eyed the second chin that was slowly sprouting, raising an amused brow at Finn, "Of course, M'Lord."

After an obscene amount of food had been packed into their lord, Finn went about cleaning up and Lowry finally got a turn to rub the butterball himself, happily listening to the noises of his lord's tender belly all the while.

"Would you, ugh, do something for me?" Ash asked, nearly being drowned out by his own noisy gut.

"Try again, M'Lord." Lowry pinched the fat on Ash's thigh in admonishment.

A lord doesn't have to ask nicely for his servants to do anything, ever. It was a concept the former knight was still adjusting to. Sometimes he wondered who was in charge of who.

Ash went pink to his ears before giving the order, "Fill me, now."

"Yes M'Lord." Lowry chirped, wasting no time in rolling Ash over, spreading his legs and making the most obscene slurping sounds possible while lapping at his wet eager cunt.

Once Finn returned and Lowry was finally sliding his thick cock in, the round lord flexed his hips and reached out eagerly, "N-Need more!"

"So greedy, Lord Ash. One cock just isn't enough for you." Finn pulled himself free of his trousers and let Ash swallow his dick easily.

Getting fucked like a whore while his full womb weighed him down was the best part of his new life, his hair being pulled on by one man while the other gripped his plush hips. His body felt so hot but so good, he needed to feel their cum filling him up.

As their pace picked up, the drake shifted and Ash prayed that the beast wouldn't try tearing him apart until after he'd finished. His wet cunt squeezed tight around his servant and when hot seed spilled inside him he tumbled into his own shuddering orgasm. Finn followed shortly after, making his lord swallow it all with a content smile.

"I think I know what the potion does now, Lord Ash."

"Yeah?" His mind was still awash in post coital bliss, and he could only figure that there was no way the potion was making him any hornier than he always was.

"You can't feel that?" Finn gestured to his middle, making Ash actually take a proper look at himself, finding his body had gotten much doughier.

His double chin was undeniable now along with a set of soft tits where his pecs once were, his hips and thighs were ever wider, and his once tight, round dome of a belly was flabby, a roll even settled in his lap as he sat up.

"Why... Would that help with a dragon?"

Lowry shrugged, hands playing with his rolls, "Insulation? Maybe being kept warmer makes it less aggressive?" Dragons clearly had a desire for excess and indulgence, this could simply be another manifestation of that.

"Which means we really should be feeding you even more."

Ash scoffed, "We aren't even sure that it helps keep the beast quiet."

"What's the harm? If it shrinks down considerably people will find that more strange than you getting even fatter."

The former knight huffed, imagining how he'd look by the time the drake had completely shrunk down into an egg, "You both just want to stuff me like a pig."

"If you don't want to, say that. We're here to serve." Lowry jiggled his fat, taunting him, "Just say the word and I'll tell the cooks you're on a diet."

Yeah, right. Ash had no interest in eating egg whites and spinach everyday. There was hardly any point to being a lord with a mass of gold if he couldn't eat what he wanted.

"To hell with that." He said, his face completely pink, "I... Enjoy it, the food, you two feeding me, mocking me about how my clothes don't fit, filling me, I don't want you to stop."

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Finn kissed his double chin, "Maybe some warmer clothes would help quiet the drake as well? I can call for the tailor."

Ash stretched, feeling the weight of the dragon shift inside him slightly, "Not today, I want a bath and a nap."

His servants smiled at him, "At once, M'Lord."

It wasn't until the beginning of the next season that the dragon had finally settled as a large egg permanently trapped inside his womb, and by then Ash had blimped into a typical spoiled lord, so fat and adorned with gold that anyone who didn't know better would easily assume he'd always been a noble. In a way, the region had swapped one gluttonous beast for another.

[dragonagecompanions]

DAI romances react to Inquisitor’s "death" in "here lies the abyss". Like, he/she supposedly left them behind, to not to endanger them. So, the siege begins, they get inside Adamant, but the inquisitor is nowhere to be found. They run to the bridge where he/she was supposed to be and see it collapsed. One of agents says that and Inquisitor, along with the Warden and Hawke, fell into a cliff. What would they do while the siege of the fortress continues? And how would they react to the return? tnx

Cassandra: She does not want to believe it, at first. It has taken so long for her to open her heart to this man, and somehow over these long months the last Seeker has convinced herself that he is untouchable. Haven, the Conclave, the Anchor-- nothing can stop him for long. It was the same mistake she made with Anthony, and the same terrible grief threatens not only her soul but in battle her safety as well. There is enough distraction at least that the fear and the grief do not have long to hold onto her before he returns.

But later, when the screams of battle have ended and he is safe in her arms again, she will let the fear pull unwelcome tears-- and be soothed that he is still there to comfort her.

Solas: It is a judgement blow to the world, that it is the Gray Wardens and their folly that have stolen his Vhenan from him. She was a touchstone in a world so shattered from its proper place-- and her abscence destroys any chance of mercy from the Dread Wolf. He remains at the battle only because he must - and oh it tears at him- disinter her from the rocks to reclaim the power of the Anchor and that is a process best left to the Inquisition. The anger that wells up in him is vented at those who still oppose the Herald's forces, and there is no mercy from the soft spoken apostate until news reaches them that their fearless leader yet lives.

To hold her again, even for the few moments he can allow them, is a paradise. Even if he someday must betray her, even unto the ending of all she has known, it will at least be with a proper farewell and apology.

It is not enough, and yet as he holds her close at the end of the battle, it is enough for the momoent.

Blackwall: It staggers him. To lose her at all is devastating, but for her to fall while trying to help the Wardens is...

Is like standing in the rain and knowing the Warden who saw good in a disgraced captain wasn't coming back from the Deep Roads. The guilt and the shame are like a knife, but knowing that his lies might well have driven her on burn like poison. There is no antidote for his agony, and he can only turn himself to the battle; he can save at least those who were truly brave enough to take the oath and fight the corruption in their ranks.

When she comes back to him, whole and hale and as beautiful as ever, it breaks something in him. When they return to Skyhold he will tell her everything, and there will be no more lies between them.

Dorian: This was always a chance. That was a given going in, an acceptable risk to this whole arrangement, and while it hurts of course at least there is the comfort that the Herald fell...the Inquisitor died doing his...

Maker, he can't even lie to himself. It's devastating, and the moment the Tevinter mage hears the world seems to jolt on his axis. Of course the man he was beginning to love could not survive; there is no destiny kind enough to give Dorian Pavus a chance at the kind of love that last the ages. And so he will give it a story to shake the heavens instead. Those who fight alongside the Inquisition's necromancer will never forget how their foes rose in legions to attack former allies, nor the panic that sprung up in the ranks of their enemies. There are none brave enough to comment on the tears that stream down the mage's face for the battle either, and few willing to stare at him long enough to notice it besides.

But when it is all settled and the Herald is of course miraculously fine again, Dorian...can't. He can't go to him right away, can't hold him close until the shaking has finally stopped. There is tenderness on the road, the gentle touches that assure them both that the other is still alive, but Dorian waits until Skyhold is safe around them before he can truly believe his amatus is safe.

Then they will have words.

Iron Bull: Katoh. There are demons and mages and all manner of magicky....things trying to kill them. If he has failed as a front line body guard to his Kadan, he will not fail their inquisition. The gaping wound deep in his soul will have to wait until...

Until later. Katoh.

(Later, of course, he brings out the good rope and spends plenty of time explaining exactly why they will never do this again.)

Cullen: He wants to weep of course, to throw his sword away and scream, but there is simply no time. Thousands of souls rely on their commander to see them through, and no matter his own grief he will not abandon them. He gives orders and directs soldiers and fights on until the bitter end. When that is done he pushes onward, pushing himself to hold the line and trying to strike down his inner demons by slaughtering outer ones. There is nothing else left.

When she returns to him, there is not even an attempt to hide their reunion as some sort of debrief or meeting. The soldiers might cheer and whistle as their commander carries the Herald to his tent (not for that, lay abouts!) but as it is for their love of both commander and Inquisitor neither very much mind.

Josephine: The hours between one missive and the next are some of the most desolate she has ever known. Leliana and Cullen and all of those persons she has grown close to in the Inquisitors inner circle are gone, and so she can take only a few moments in the stairwell to that dark and hidden library to sob out her grief. If the inquisitor is indeed fallen it will require all of her acumen to keep their allies close, and that is not something that can be done in the early pain of her grief.

If she is there longer than she intended, her wails and sobs swallowed by the silent stone, no one need ever know. And blessed Andraste surely has a hand over her herald, as the next missive is jubilant in the news that her love indeed lives. Her tears are joyful now, but that does not mean she will not have words when their beloved Inquisitor returns.

Mod Fereldone