#pregnancy tw and miscarriage tw for the rest of the tags

[dabideserveslove]

I haven't been on in a fucking while, life's been crazy yo.

If it makes up for it at all I'm almost done writing a moderately (read: extremely) angsty & smutty ShigaDabi oneshot featuring trans Dabi that may or may not fall into the Light at the End of the Night universe (I haven't decided yet, we'll see what happens lmao) as well as most of the next chapter for the main fic.

I really appreciate everyone who has been so patient with my sporadic updates and I'm gonna go through my asks and answer some of them today, too.

[cursedbycain]

not a lot, just forever - Cain x Lane

tagging: @rc-catalog and @kazu-naito

tw: throwing up, pregnancy loss, depiction of miscarriage, intense grief, emotional breakdowns, please be warned this is a heavy fic. rated M

wc: 5.4k (this one was a doozy)

an: my love thrives on angst so for her birthday i've written possibly the heaviest fic i could possibly write. happy birthday elle <3 i know you'll probably love this, including the fact that it brought me pain to write it

Being sick wasn’t unusual for Lane. The food they had access to was not all that great, and she had become accustomed to an odd feeling in her stomach. So, she didn’t pay much mind to the discomfort she woke up to, hurrying to the bathroom as her body rebelled.

She leaned over the sink, pressing her forehead to the cool porcelain as her stomach twisted. Her breaths came in short, shaky gasps as she fought to calm the waves of nausea. When the queasiness finally overcame her, she coughed softly and spit out the bitter taste that clung to her tongue. A cold sweat broke out along her back, and her hands gripped the edge of the sink until her knuckles whitened.

She rinsed her mouth, the cold water washing away the faint acid clinging to her lips. Her shoulders slumped in relief as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. She shuffled back to bed, hoping to drift back to sleep and pretend it hadn’t happened.

Cain had awoken, staring at her with a concerned look as she lay down beside him. His arm slipped under her head, pulling her close.

“Are you alright?” he murmured into her hair, his voice a soft rumble, eyes already beginning to close.

“I’m fine. Must have eaten something off last night.” She shut her eyes, the odd feeling in her stomach subsiding to a gentle throb. The air was still and heavy around them, the room faintly smelling of sleep and cool night air.

She’s nearly back to sleep when Cain makes a noise of irritation, as if something was distracting him from his slumber.

“What’s wrong?” She doesn’t open her eyes at first, but his silence becomes concerning. When she opens her eyes, he’s staring at her wide-eyed, pale in the dim light.

“What is it?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. He blinks, looking away from her eyes to focus on her stomach. She frowns, feeling the tingle of panic rise in her chest as he shifts downwards and lays his head on her abdomen.

“I hear something.” His voice is low, almost disbelieving.

Every muscle in her body tenses. That wasn’t possible. Cain had assured her it wasn’t possible. Her pulse quickens, her breath shallow and tight in her chest.

“I thought you said…” The words die in her throat. He looks up at her, genuine shock written across his features. She had never seen so many emotions in his eyes at once: confusion, fear, wonder. She couldn’t even name the feelings that swirled through her chest and rose in her throat.

“It-it’s faint. But it’s there.” His voice is hushed, uncertain. She feels his breath warm against her skin, his hand resting gently on her stomach.

“Cain…” Her voice trembles, fear taking root and spreading through her veins like ice water. Her teeth chatter as she stares at him, tears threatening to spill.

He grips her hand, squeezing it with steady reassurance. “It’s going to be alright.” He can barely tear his gaze away from her stomach to meet her eyes. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, he urges her to lie back beside him. She’s sure he can feel the frantic beat of her heart, her body tense against his.

“It’s going to be alright,” he repeats, his voice stronger now, though his eyes keep drifting to her abdomen, wide with disbelief. His hand strokes her back, calm and patient. Outside, the world is still, the hours before dawn holding their breath.

“Go back to sleep. It’ll be hours before you have to be up,” he murmurs, though she knows sleep won’t come easily.

The first thing Lane does when she wakes up is start getting ready to head to the monastery. Her fingers feel clumsy and cold as she buttons her coat, the thin fabric of her shirt clinging to her skin, damp with sweat that hadn’t dried in the night. Cain doesn’t leave her side for a moment, his presence a constant, silent weight. When she tries to walk past the kitchen, he stops her with a gentle touch on her arm, his long fingers wrapping around her wrist. The contact is warm, grounding, but it also sends a shiver up her spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

“I’m not hungry,” she murmurs, the words tumbling out of her mouth too quickly. Cain raises an eyebrow, his expression a calm challenge, and the ball of anxiety in her gut hums louder, almost like a wasp’s nest buzzing under her ribs. She relents, taking the small portion of rations he presses into her hands and slipping it into her bag. The simple weight of it makes her stomach twist in on itself.

The cold air outside is sharp, slicing across her skin as they step out into the bleak Rotkov morning. The sky is a washed-out red, the low clouds pressing down on the city like a heavy hand. She draws in a breath, the chill biting at her lungs, and for a moment it’s a relief, a distraction from the knot of fear and uncertainty coiling tighter with every beat of her heart. Cain reaches out, tugging her scarf up higher around her neck with a gentleness that feels at odds with the way he’s holding himself so tensely.

He doesn’t meet her eyes as he fusses over her, but she sees the worry etched into the lines of his face. His eyes, usually hard and clear as cut glass, are soft today. It’s a look she’s seen before, in the early days when they didn’t know each other as well as they did now, when he wasn’t yet sure what her body could handle.

Neither of them had any idea what to do. Between the two of them, they didn’t have enough pieces of parents to put together even a single memory of what good parents might look like. The closest thing Cain had ever had to a father was Abel, and Lane’s own memories of family were little more than blurred edges and the echo of harsh words in dark rooms.

Cain carries her to the monastery, flying low over the frostbitten rooftops. He cradles her close against his chest, his wings beating slow and steady, the rhythm of them a soft thrum she can feel through his coat. He moves like she’s made of glass, every shift of his arms careful, almost reverent. She tries not to think about the way his jaw is set, the muscle twitching in his cheek, as if he’s bracing himself for something he can’t quite name.

“There has to be a book on this. Something,” she mutters as soon as they step inside the monastery, the stale air heavy with the smell of old parchment and burned-out candles. Her voice sounds small in the cavernous silence, swallowed up by the high stone arches and the endless stacks of books. She moves quickly, almost desperately, sifting through piles of ancient, dust-covered tomes. The cold stone floor bites into her knees as she kneels, her fingers leaving streaks in the dust as she reaches for anything that might hold answers.

Cain looks around half-heartedly, his gaze distant. It’s as if he’s already given up, and that scares her more than the silence of the monastery itself. He walks over to her and helps her reach a book just out of her grasp, his fingers brushing hers. The simple touch is electric, but it also feels like an anchor, pulling her back from the rising tide of panic that threatens to swallow her whole.

“The union of immortals and humans was very rare. Perhaps there were more instances than recorded, but this is…unprecedented. I doubt it will be mentioned in any of these texts.”

She wipes the dust off the cover, her thumb tracing the faded gold letters: Book of Enoch. The weight of the name alone sends a chill through her. She doesn’t even know what she’s hoping to find anymore, just something, anything, to make sense of what’s happening inside her.

“How much of the biblical stories are based in truth?” she asks, her voice brittle as she sits down on one of the cold, worn pews. Cain sighs, the sound heavy, and sits beside her, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“It’s all very… complicated,” he says, his voice low, a note of bitterness threading through it. “I suppose a version of the story of Cain and Abel made its way to Earth somehow.” His tone is tight, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the wood. The mournful tune of Lacrimosa.

“According to this text, the children of rebellious angels and humans are referred to as Nephilim.” She traces the words with her fingertip, the ancient script almost too faded to read. Cain leans over her shoulder, his breath warm against her ear, and she shivers at the closeness of it.

“They’re also described as great giants, who consumed all the acquisitions of men. And when men could no longer sustain them, the giants turned against them and devoured mankind. And they began to sin against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish, and to devour one another's flesh, and drink the blood.” His voice is almost calm as he reads it, the words rolling off his tongue as if they were nothing. But each one lands in her chest like a hammer blow, her stomach twisting into tighter and tighter knots.

“And should we just hope that part is false?” she asks, her voice cracking under the weight of it all. Her hands are trembling in her lap, and she clenches them into fists to keep them still. Cain looks at her, his eyes shadowed but his expression unchanged.

“It’s highly unlikely,” he says, his voice steady, but she can hear the tremor beneath it. She can see it in the way his shoulders tense.

“You said me getting pregnant was impossible.” The words taste like ash in her mouth, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears she can barely hear her own voice. It’s a plea and an accusation all at once, a desperate attempt to make sense of something that shouldn’t be real.

Cain doesn’t respond, doesn’t meet her eyes. He takes the book from her gently, setting it down beside them. The silence stretches, cold and suffocating.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says finally, his voice softer now. He pulls her against him, his arm around her shoulders, the weight of him warm and solid. She leans into him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder, trying to breathe through the panic clawing at her chest.

But the words don’t soothe her. The monastery feels too ancient, too heavy with the weight of a thousand unanswered prayers. She can almost hear the echoes of them in the stone, the desperate pleas of those who had come here before, searching for hope and finding only silence.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and she closes her eyes, trying to push away the images of giants devouring the world, of blood and ruin and the taste of iron in her mouth. She can feel it in her bones, in the hollow ache of her stomach, in the way her heart feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of her chest.

For a moment, she lets herself believe in his promise, lets herself sink into the warmth of his embrace. But deep down, she knows: no matter what he says, this is just the beginning.

They agreed not to tell the squad. There was already too much chaos hanging over them, too many cracks threatening to swallow everything whole. This secret, this impossible burden, had to be carried alone, hidden beneath layers of silence. No one else needed to know, not yet, maybe never. The weight of it was suffocating.

Lane buried herself in the brittle pages of the Book, her hands trembling slightly as she painstakingly pieced together fragments of a story she barely understood. Cain moved through his duties with a hollow sort of precision. Neither of them even dared to breathe too loudly, lest the fragile balance shatter.

Cain stood on the rooftop of the estate, wings folding and unfolding in restless beats. The wind teased his hair, fingers like ice brushing through the blonde strands. The night pressed close, empty except for the rhythm beating quietly beneath his skin, the steady thump of Lane’s heart, a fragile drum of life he clung to like a lifeline. He tried to ignore the faint echo, softer but unmistakably tethered to hers. A second heartbeat. A silent promise and a threat entwined.

With every passing day, it grew louder, stronger. A relentless tide washing over them both, and with it, the knot of dread coiling tighter in her chest.

Then, Abel’s voice cut through the stillness, quiet but sharp, like a blade sliding over exposed nerves.

“I tried to warn her.”

Cain flinched, cold fire snapping through his veins. His head jerked to look at his brother, a ghost of betrayal weighing heavy in his bones. The squad had begun to lower their defenses enough to remove his shackles, but Abel was still confined to the estate. Still here. And Cain hated him for it. Hated the physical reminder of everything he left in Heaven that day.

“What are you talking about?” His voice was low, raw, every word laced with a simmering anger. The familiar weakness that clawed at him whenever Abel was near twisted painfully through his limbs. For a maddening second, Cain wondered if throwing him off the roof would end it or if those brittle wings would somehow save the one he loathed most.

“She’s pregnant.”

The word landed like a punch, cruel and unforgiving.

Damn it.

“I told her to keep away from you.” He knew if Lane got too close his brother would be able to reach the same conclusion he had. But he had hoped he could hide it for a little longer.

“This is why you should stay with your own kind.” Abel stepped closer, voice thick with bitter certainty. “This child will kill her.”

Cain’s fury ignited like wildfire, scorching everything in its path. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. He refused to meet those eyes, so achingly like his own. Eyes that once made him feel safe, protected.

The eyes that wanted him dead all that time ago.

“You don’t know a damn thing.”

He growled the words like a wild animal cornered, raw with pain. “You have no right to talk about her. Or this child.”

Abel’s voice faltered, a flicker of doubt breaking through the facade. “None of us know what will happen when it’s born, but the mortal body can’t bear it. It will destroy her. She’s too fragile, too weak, to carry the child of an immortal, especially one with your strength.”

Cain thinks back, to the time she can’t remember. Her strength was otherworldly, practically extraordinary. Who was Abel to judge what she could endure?

“She’s not just some mortal,” He spat, voice raw and heavy with desperate hope. “She’s stronger than you’ll ever understand. She carries something you’ll never comprehend.”

Abel scoffed, dismissive, and Cain’s rage exploded anew, furious and bitter.

“You know nothing. Nothing about her. Nothing about me.”

His wings flared, bristling like a storm ready to break free.

“You should’ve stayed dead. If it were up to me, we’d have left you to rot in that hellhole, butchered till you were nothing. Don’t speak of her again. Not once. If I catch you looking at her, you’ll wish it was you who died in mother’s place that day.”

Cain’s words were ice and fire, brutal and final.

Without another sound, he stepped off the roof, wings beating the cold night as he slipped through Lane’s window like a shadow.

She looked up, startled, eyes wide with surprise. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, the storm inside him still raging. She abandoned her notes and crossed the room, reaching for him, her hand gentle and sure in his.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Cain shook his head, the ember of anger glowing bright and painful beneath his skin.

She nodded softly, understanding the silence that filled the space between them, a silence born of too much history, too much pain.

Without protest, he let her lead him to bed. She lay down, and he rested his head on her stomach, the steady beat beneath him a fragile, precious rhythm.

The heartbeat was stronger now, a promise of life in the darkness. The baby was growing.

“Maybe we should name him.” Her voice was hesitant, fragile like glass teetering on the edge of breaking. Cain’s breath hitched, and he turned to her, shocked by the weight of the moment.

“Him?” His voice was rough, disbelief coloring every word. He hadn’t dared to think this far ahead.

“I mean, I don’t know yet,” she whispered, hand threading through his hair, a nervous habit that always made his heart clench. “But I keep thinking it’s a boy.” He nodded, silent, the idea settling around them like a fragile hope.

Their boy.

“What kind of names do you have in mind?” His voice cracked ever so slightly, unaccustomed to the softness it carried.

She paused, the faintest smile curling her lips, delicate and rare. “How about Seth?” she offered, the name hanging in the quiet like a prayer.

Cain’s face darkened with recognition, a bitter sigh escaping him. “...Seth?”

“It’s biblical,” she said simply, and he rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth as she pictured baby Seth, the first flicker of light in the darkness they’d been drowning in. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in a while.

“Yeah. Seth.” He agreed, closing his eyes to listen to the steady, steady beat of the son they both feared and loved already.

A week later, something changes.

They’re eating dinner when Cain first notices it. For weeks, the soft flutter of the second heartbeat, so delicate, so impossibly alive, had become a quiet litany in the back of his mind. A song he’d begun to believe in. But tonight, with every bite of the bland, tasteless meal, he hears it skip.

A single beat.

A pause.

Then nothing.

At first, he thinks he’s wrong. That he’s hearing echoes, or that it’s just his mind playing tricks. But the more he listens, the more certain he becomes. The silence in that small, hopeful space inside Lane’s body roars louder than the sound of the squad’s chatter.

He tries to swallow, but his throat feels like it’s been packed with glass. He glances at her, at the curve of her lips as she chews, oblivious. At the gentle slope of her belly, hidden beneath her sweater. The promise of life she had carried, that had felt like redemption. He wants to scream. Wants to stand up and overturn the table, shatter the world that has done this to them.

But he can’t move. All he can do is sit there, feeling the fragile world they’d dared to build collapse around them.

He looks at Abel across the table, and Abel meets his gaze. There’s no triumph in his brother’s eyes, no smugness. Just a quiet, heavy knowing. A mirror of the grief already bleeding from Cain’s soul.

He had warned them. And yet, knowing it doesn’t lessen the blow.

Cain sets his fork down. The clatter it makes against the plate is deafening. He’s going to be sick. He can feel it coiling in his gut like a serpent, acid and bile rising in his throat. Lane’s knee is warm against his under the table, comfort he doesn’t deserve. She doesn’t know yet. She doesn’t know, and he’s never hated himself more than he does in this moment.

The minutes crawl, each one a blade carving deeper into his chest. Finally, dinner ends. Lane stands, stretches like nothing is wrong. Smiles at him, so sweet and soft, and it nearly breaks him in half.

He follows her upstairs, hands clenched at his sides. She hums as she undresses, oblivious to the silent devastation unfolding beside her. She pauses in front of the mirror, running her fingers over the slight swell of her belly. That gentle curve had been his beacon. Proof of life. Of hope.

Just this morning, he’d pressed his lips to her skin there, whispered promises to the child growing inside her. Seth, he’d thought. Seth, with her eyes and her fire. Seth, who would be loved in a way neither of them had ever been.

He wonders if she’ll ever forgive him for believing in that dream.

She’s about to climb into bed when she stops, a frown knitting her brow. Her hand drifts to her stomach, confusion flickering across her face.

“What is it?” he asks, though he already knows. He’s known since the second heartbeat went silent.

“I just… I feel weird,” she says softly. Her voice is small, fragile, like a porcelain cup on the edge of a table. She presses her hand harder against her lower belly, trying to find what’s already gone.

And then her eyes meet his. Wide. Drowning.

Understanding dawns in them like a sunrise of horror.

“No.” Her voice is a rasp, a prayer, a denial.

He wants to lie to her. Wants to tell her she’s wrong, that everything is fine. That he can still hear the heartbeat, strong and steady. But the truth is a monster in his mouth, and all he can do is nod.

Her face crumples. She lets out a noise he’s never heard from her before, something broken and feral, a sound that rips through the room and tears his heart out. She falls to her knees like a marionette with cut strings, her arms wrapped around her stomach as if she can hold the emptiness in.

He drops down with her, pulling her into his arms, but he knows he’s powerless. There’s no comfort he can offer her, no magic in his touch to stop her heart from breaking.

She sobs into his chest, her tears scalding his skin. Her hands clutch at his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric like she’s trying to anchor herself to this world that has betrayed her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over. The words feel useless. Pathetic. But they’re all he has.

She spends the night in agony. The pain is physical, yes, her body expelling what they had dared to hope for, but it’s the raw, soul-deep grief that shatters them both. She cries until her voice is gone, until her body is too weak to keep fighting. He holds her through it, feeling every shudder, every gasp for breath, each one a dagger in his own chest.

He calls for Anna, ignoring Lane’s desperate pleas to be left alone. He’s never begged for anything in his long life, but he begs now. He begs Anna to do something, anything, to ease the pain in Lane’s body and the terror in her eyes.

Anna does what she can, her hands gentle but her face grave. She promises to tell the squad Lane is sick. A lie to shield her from their curiosity. A small mercy.

When dawn comes, the worst of it is over. Lane is a husk of herself, curled up on the bed in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets. Her hair sticks to her forehead, her lips cracked from crying. Her eyes are closed, but her breathing is ragged, each inhale a fragile, defiant act of survival.

Cain sits there, numb and hollow. He had held it together while she needed him, but now he lets it in. The grief. The guilt. The unbearable weight of what they’ve lost. It’s a pain that feels endless, like a wound that will never close.

He watches her sleep for hours, counting every breath like it’s a lifeline. When she finally stirs, her eyes open, glazed and red. He helps her drink water, his hands shaking as he holds the cup to her lips.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, voice raw and quiet, fingers brushing her tangled hair back. She shakes her head, tears welling up again. She lets out a small, pitiful sound when he moves away to get up.

He returns with a bucket of warm water, something to ease the ache in her bones. He sits her up, undresses her with slow, gentle hands. She’s limp, staring off into nothing, her skin cold beneath his fingertips. He runs the wet cloth over her body in soft, careful strokes.

“He would have looked like you,” she whispers, so faint he almost misses it.

He pauses, cloth in hand, his breath catching in his throat. “You think so?” he asks softly, as though speaking too loud might break her all over again.

She nods, lips trembling, tears falling in silent rivers down her cheeks. He catches them with his thumbs, kissing them away. He leans forward, brushing his lips against hers, a kiss as soft and fleeting as the heartbeat that’s gone.

He dresses her in fresh clothes, tucks her into the bed like a fragile treasure he can’t protect. His transponder buzzes, demanding he leave her side. The General’s voice is as cold and impersonal as ever, an intrusion into this sacred, grief-soaked space.

“Patrol the roof for a few hours.”

He wants to refuse. Wants to stay here, where he can still see her, still hold her. But he knows if he ignores it, the General will come here himself. Lane’s eyes flicker to his, and she nods, permission, resignation.

He leans down, kisses her forehead, and leaves.

On the roof, he listens, out of habit, out of hope. But the silence is absolute. That second heartbeat, that small, fragile life, gone. He had spent his entire life never even considering the idea of having a family. Then, he had gotten so close, only for it to be ripped away.

“She lost it.” Abel’s voice cuts through the cold air. Cain wants to get angry, wants to yell at him for getting involved, for acting like he knew what Cain was going through. But there’s no anger left in him. There’s nothing. Nothing but emptiness.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice hollow. “She lost him.”

He sinks down on the edge of the roof, legs dangling into the void. Snow drifts around him, white and silent and merciless. Abel sits beside him, but keeps his distance. For once, Cain doesn’t mind. The world is too empty to feel crowded.

If it’s possible to miss someone who never existed, Cain does. He misses Seth. He misses the quiet thump of a heartbeat he’d memorized. He misses the future he’d dared to believe in. He misses the promise of laughter, of small hands and bright eyes. Of a family he never thought he could have.

They would be better than their parents, Cain had promised her. They would do a good job. He would be happy.

He would be loved.

“Him?” Abel asks quietly. Cain knows Abel doesn’t understand, not really. But it doesn’t matter.

“We were going to name him Seth,” he says. The name tastes like blood in his mouth. Like the echo of a dream that never had the chance to live. He hadn’t said it to anyone but Lane. The backstory of the name is lost on Abel, who merely nods.

And for once, Cain doesn’t find his brothers presence so unbearable.

Cain spends the rest of the day with her in bed, curled up together under the heavy blankets. Lane’s head rests on his chest, her eyes half-closed but no longer tearful. She’s exhausted, but she refuses to sleep again. She keeps tracing slow, absent-minded circles over the fabric of his shirt, as though afraid that if she stops, the emptiness will swallow her whole.

He gently runs his fingers through her hair, the only sound in the room the quiet hush of their breathing. Every time she shifts, every time she sighs, he feels it in his bones, her grief, her fear, her fragile strength.

Neither of them says much at first. They’re too raw, too empty. Words feel like they’d only shatter what little calm they’ve found in each other’s arms. But eventually, she shifts slightly, tilting her head up to look at him.

“What now?” she asks softly, her voice hoarse from crying. It’s the question neither of them has dared to voice until now.

Cain looks down at her, his thumb brushing her cheek. He doesn’t have an answer. His mind is as blank as the snow falling outside the window. But he knows one thing: he can’t let her carry this alone.

“We keep going,” he says.

Lane closes her eyes, leaning into his touch. “I don’t know how,” she admits. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt like she’s anchoring herself to him, desperate not to let go.

“I don’t either,” he whispers. “But I’m here. That’s all I can promise you right now. I’m here.”

She nods, and after a moment she takes a shaky breath. “I still feel like he’s there,” she says quietly, pressing her palm against her belly. “Even though I know he’s not.”

He covers her hand with his, his eyes dark with sadness. “I know,” he says.

A silence settles over them, thick and aching. Lane’s breathing is uneven, catching on every inhale, but she doesn’t cry again. She just presses closer to him, her forehead pressed to his chest, letting his warmth be the one solid thing in a world that feels like it’s falling apart.

Cain presses a kiss to her hair, tasting salt and the faint smell of the soap they used to wash her clean. He closes his eyes and lets his forehead rest against hers, breathing in the soft, shuddering rhythm of her life. She’s still here. She’s still his.

“We’re going to be okay,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper. As if saying it out loud might make it true. And in that moment, with her warm against his side and the weight of the world still lingering, it almost feels like it is.

But even then, he knows the ache will stay with them. In the quiet of the night, he imagines the heartbeat he’ll never hear again. The small cries he’ll never soothe. The dreams that will never be born. He feels it in every breath he takes, like a ghost pressed between them.

She’s here. He’s here. And for now, that has to be enough.

He closes his eyes, holding her a little tighter. In the darkness of the room, he whispers a silent promise to the child they lost: You would have been loved. And you will never be forgotten.

[neptune-lover]

Pregnant? Pt5

Tag list: @hauntedpostpersona @moxkindagirl @babybatlover

Tw: talks of pregnancy, mentions of death and miscarriage, mentions of vomit/throwing up and mentions of sex, use of their real names

It have been 10 minutes and almost like deja vu here you were sitting with your partners in a circle around the faced down pregnancy test but this time it was Rhea's instead Y/n's. "Ok it should be time to flip it over now" Y/n said "I'm nervous I mean I know ow I haven't had any symptoms but still what if it is positive"Rhea said in a shakey voice. " It's okay Demi I already have a doctors appointment to double check that the test was correct and I am actually pregnant. That's actually why I hadn't told you guys"Y/n had said . "I would like that to come with you and get checked also" Rhea said sheepishly " Of course baby" Y/n said "I'll flip it over for you Dem" Damian said. "Thank you Luis" Rhea sighed in relief "of course" Damian said as he picked the test up and turned it so it was face up but only so he can see it. He kept a straight face almost like Becky had yesterday he passed it to Finn who passed it to you who passed it to Dominik. All of you kept straight faces Dominik handed the test to Rhea and she gaps "holy crap it's positive". You all get smiles on your faces when Y/n start crying but not from happiness but sadness " What's wrong bunny" Rhea asks. "I'm just scared the last time I was pregnant it ended up being a miscarriage. I'm scared it might happen again." Rhea hugs the Y/n and says"Bunny it's gonna be okay we know what happened last time but I promise we will do everything in our power to keep both the baby and you safe we won't let anything happen to the baby or you that could affect the baby." "Ya we won't let anything bad happen to our little beans" Dominik said "Little beans really" Finn said "What that's about what they are the size of right now" Dominik stated "that's true" Damian chimed in. All this bickering between the boys made Y/n chuckle. "There's that smile" Rhea said "Our appointment is in 3 days so we have a few days till then so can we just chill for the rest of today " Y/n said. "Sounds good to me you guys wanna have a movie day then" Damian asked "YES" Rhea and Y/n shouted at the same time. "Can we watch the greatest showman(AN: you can change this to a different movie if wanted) " Y/n asked "Ofc we can Princess" said Finn. And with that you guys snuggled into bed and watch movies for the rest of the day.

I hope you guys enjoyed part 5 I have so many ideas for this series and feel free to keep requesting stuff for me to write

[henrycavillobsessed]

The Dark Side Of Me - Part Three

AU Henry Cavill (Detective!Henry) x female reader

Words: 1,872

TW/CW: Angst/anger. Mentions of pregnancy/miscarriage/harm to babies. Trying for a baby. Violence/blood/mentions of injury. Bad langauge. Hospitals. Nightmares/panic attacks/mental health/therapy.

Summary: Henry finally catches up with Kingsley Archer, the man who nearly took everything from him. The trauma of the attack takes it toll on you.

Notes: I really am sorry it’s taken so long for me to finish this! Life got in the way and writers block really was a thing with this one! However saying that I’m proud I’ve finally finshed my first Henry AU fic and I really hope you enjoy it as much as part one and two!

Part one is here and part two is here

Tag list: @scorpiobitch95 @fanfictionaddiction99 @angelmather1 @tomhiddlestonlove15 @freerose11 @arssunshine @inlovewithhisblueeyes @sunny-byeol @godilovetheenglishx @whitewolf51 @queenofbeingdepressed @maan24 @f1-hoff @witches-of-discovery-a @youronlygoldenangel @yaem1kosgf @dryyoursaltyoceantears @biancacisilino @arssunshinee​ @scorpionchild81

Sunlight filtered in through the open window, bringing with it a slight breeze and the morning chorus of birds that softly woke me. Stretching, I rolled over to see Henry’s side of the bed was empty; I frowned slightly. Always working, I thought to myself, that man is always working… I eased myself out of bed, slightly surprised by how difficult this basic motion was, and looking down I saw… a bump? A baby bump?

“Good morning, my love,” I heard his voice then, and I looked at him in panic as he entered our bedroom.

“Henry? What’s going on? What’s happening to me?” I fretted to him, but he didn’t seem to hear me.

“How are my two favourite girls today?” Henry smiled his crooked smile, my favourite smile, and he bent down to gently pull me up off of the bed and lead me towards our mirrored wardrobe. 

“Henry, what do you mean? What’s wrong with you? I-“ My words choked off in a gasp.

In the mirror, Henry stood behind me, his head bent to rest on my shoulder, his smile now serene as he looked down towards his hands which were tenderly cradling my stomach, my stomach which was straining against my silk pyjama top, and all of a sudden I remembered, and a huge wave of love crashed over me, overwhelming me, and I felt tears of happiness spill from my eyes and down my cheeks…

“Oh, yes… yes! This is our daughter inside of me, isn’t it?” I looked up to meet Henry’s eyes in the mirror, and he nodded. I laughed joyfully once through my tears. “How could I have forgotten! Oh, Henry!”

Then… pain. I was once again confused, as I felt Henry’s hands tense, harder, then harder still as they crushed my stomach, began to crush our baby…

“Henry, stop! What are you doing?” I screamed, looking back up at him in the mirror, desperately.

But Henry wasn’t there. In his place, a man wearing a dark tracksuit stood behind me now, and as I watched his mouth, hidden in the shadow of a cap pulled low over his face, split into a menacing grin, and then the worst pain shocked through me, and my eyes shot down to the fire and I saw it, the handle of a knife sticking out from my abdomen, dark blood flowing steadily from where the blade had entered and I screamed and I screamed and I screamed.

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“You fucking cunt!” Kingsley Archer screamed as he wrenched his head back up from the table; blood gushed from his nose in a torrent, his cuffed hands making him unable to stem it. “You will fucking pay-“ 

BAM. His face once again met the metal table, and this time Henry held Archer there. 

“I thought I said that I was going to be doing the talking?” he growled in his prisoner’s ear. 

Archer moaned, the sound muffled and gurgled as the blood dripped into his mouth. Henry increased the pressure, mashing Archer’s face against the unforgiving surface and he was satisfied to hear the wet crunching that meant the asshole’s nose was breaking further. Yet still Archer wouldn’t cease his whining.

“Look mate, I wouldn’t have gone for her if I’d known it was your missus!”

Henry stilled behind him, fury ice cold in his heart. He bent down, slowly, sinisterly, and his voice was barely a whisper next to Archer’s face. “But it was my missus, Kingsley. And do you know what else? She. Was. Pregnant.”

And with that, the fury unleashed itself. Roaring, Henry seized Archer’s shoulders and using all his strength he wrenched him away from the stainless steel table, the cuffs attached to his arms coming free, and Archer smashed into the mirror behind him, shattering it with his head; blood dripped as he fell down to the floor, groaning, finally lost for words. Henry was upon him then, raining down punch upon punch, each blow punctured with a strangled cry, furious tears burning down his face.

“She was PREGNANT you fucking cunt! PREGNANT! You killed our baby! You nearly killed HER! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Henry raged, and in that moment he knew his words were true, coming from a dark side of him, one he knew existed somewhere inside but had never wanted to meet, yet now he welcomed it, let this dark version come forth, because hurting Archer was never going to be enough, he needed him dead, wasn’t going to stop until he was dead...

“Henry! Henry, stop! That’s enough!” Suddenly Henry felt a pair of arms dragging him away; he struggled against them.

“NO!” he roared. “Not yet!” 

James Brook’s face came into view through the black haze in Henry’s mind. “Henry, stop. This isn’t you. Stop.” 

Brooks’s words finally got through to Henry and panting heavily, he obeyed, all of sudden feeling weak and spent. Angrily he wiped away the tears on his face with bloody hands, and he looked down at the mess that was Kingsley Archer. He was still alive, but barely, and amongst the lacerations and bruises on his face one eye was swollen shut, blood oozing slowly from the socket. Henry felt no regret for what he had done, instead spitting on him before storming from the holding cell.

“I hope you rot, you piece of shit,” were his last words to the animal that had nearly cost him everything, as the door slammed shut behind him. 

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I wasn’t sleeping when Henry walked into my hospital room; the remnants of my nightmare still haunted me and I was terrified to close my eyes again, instead I sat bolt upright in my bed, holding on to the call button, fear leaving a sheen on my skin as I imagined the man with the cap low on his face entering, coming back to finish the job...

I was so pent up that when the door opened I screamed. 

“Ssh, ssh, Y/N, it’s me, it’s Henry! It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here...” Henry rushed to my side and I clung to him, sobbing out the panic, taking comfort in his solid presence, his scent surrounding me, reminding me of safety, my Henry the detective superintendent, my protector...

As my cried subsided and my breathing returned to a normal pace, I shakily looked up at my husband’s face. He looked like hell, dark purple shadows under his eyes, curls sticking up in every direction, and looking down I saw his hands, red raw and bloodied. Alarm coursed through me.

“You found him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” 

“Is he- Is he dead?”

“No.”

“But you got him?”

“I got him, baby. He won’t hurt you ever again.”

I cried again then. Relief that my attacker had seemingly paid his debt was coursing through me, although concern rose up underneath it.

“Are you okay though, Henry? Your poor hands...”

He laughed once, humourlessly. “I’m fine, my love, please don’t worry about me.”

“What about your job? Surely this is going to have made an impact.” I asked worryingly and Henry sighed.

“My beautiful wife, I think it’s time I left the police force. It’s been a long time coming, and this whole... situation, it’s made me realise what’s important. I’ve spent so long protecting others, when in reality I should have been protecting you. My job made you vulnerable and I will never, ever forgive myself...” He took a deep breath and continued. “Tonight I met a part of me I never want to meet again. It’s time we moved out of the city and took some time to focus on what really matters- each other. And perhaps, when you’re ready, we can try again for... for a...” his words trailed off as tears pricked his eyes and my heart broke for him. 

He held me close as we both cried, cried for the horror we’d both experienced, and the loss. We held each other wordlessly until long after the sun had come up, only pulling apart when a nurse came in to see to my dressings, and even then I kept him in my sight. 

“I’d like that, you know,” I said to him finally.

“Like what, my darling?”

“To move away, to the country. Kal would too,” I smiled for what seemed like the first time in an eternity and was buoyed when Henry returned it.

“Then that’s what we shall do,” he said, taking my hand and pulling it to his lips, kissing it gently. “That’s what we shall do.”

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18 months later...

In a cottage in the woods, the wind whipped through the dark trees menacingly, and screeched as it rattled the window frames and shadows danced in the thickness of the trees. In your king sized bed in the master bedroom upstairs, Henry looked down at you worriedly as you tossed and turned, moaning softly as sweat shining on your forehead. Suddenly you woke with a scream, eyes darting around in a panic, breath coming out in pants. 

Henry reached out to you, and held you as you calmed down. It might have been a year and a half since the attack but you still suffered with nightmares and panic attacks. The therapist that you saw said this was to be expected, although you were making good progress with your sessions, and Henry of course did everything he could to help. He had plenty of time to be with you now he’d left the force, in fact he hated to be away from you even for a moment, hence why he’d taken a working from home job doing admin work for a security company. It was a pay cut, true, but totally worth it when it came to your mental health and safety. 

Kal whined softly at the end of the bed, his nose resting on the duvet as he looked at you balefully. “Come on, boy,” you whispered and the akita jumped up. You cuddled into him gratefully and Henry’s heart was full looking at the two of you, grateful you had each other. There was still no sign of a baby in your lives although both you and Henry had spoken about it, and were tentatively beginning to try again. For now though, the big bear of a dog was doing a fine job of being both companion and child. 

“I dreamt... I dreamt he was there again, waiting for me...” you spoke quietly after a while.

“I know, baby. I know it feels so real, but he will never find you or hurt you again,” Henry said, pulling you close. “I promise.”

You snuggled in closer to him. “That storm is getting bad out there, isn’t it?” you shuddered as the wind rattled the windows again and rain began to pelt down against them. 

“Yep. But it’s nice and warm and safe in here, baby. Go back to sleep,” Henry replied, humming softly until your eyes fluttered shut and your breathing evened out once again. 

Outside, lightning flashed through the sky, illuminating the trees, and a shadow skulked back to the darkness, a shadow with a cap pulled low over its face, and a glint of silver in its hand... 

                                                     The end.

[whale-minmin]

The Boyz reaction to S/O having a miscarriage

Genre : angst, fluff

tw : miscarriage

@idikonic - here you go, sorry if this is a bit repetitive! ♡ ( i can’t tag :( )

Sangyeon :

· He was so overjoyed to become a dad, you had never seen him as happy as when you told him you were pregnant

· When you told him it was a miscarriage all the hope disappeared from his eyes

· Although he's in pain, he'll stay strong to comfort you

· “It's okay, kitten. When the right time comes, you'll be an amazing mother~”

Jacob :

· He still very clearly remembers your smile when you told him about your pregnancy

· Now your tears feel so unreal to him, he wishes for it to just be a bad dream

· “It's okay, kitten, i'm here for you. You did so well~ This is not the end”

· He'll be by your side to comfort you, taking a break from work just to be beside you

Younghoon :

· You had everything ready for the pregnancy, he even built a cute room just for the baby

· And now he's holding you tightly in his arms, staying quiet as he lets you cry on his shoulder, wetting his jacket in the process but he couldn't care less

· “It's not your fault, Y/N. We'll get through this together. I'm here”

· He'll comfort you and drive you back home while gently caressing your hand

· When it's the right time, he's sure you'll be the best parents ever

Hyunjae :

· He'll let you find safety in his arms as he comforts you

· “You're not alone. I'm here for you, and i'm not going anywhere, okay? Talk to me, baby”

· He'll be really sad because of the miscarriage but his top priority right now is comforting you

· He'll care for you, letting you rest and take your time to recover from both the pregnancy and miscarriage

Juyeon :

· He'll be absolutely devastated, not knowing what to do or say

· He'll do his best to comfort you, putting you as his top priority

· "As long as we're together, we can get through anything, right? I'm here, kitten"

· He'll let you rest, spoling you and telling you how much he loves you every 20 minutes

Kevin :

· He'd be completely broken, his mind refusing to believe it but he knows it's true

· Miscarriage wasn't ever in the question, you both were just so happy to become parents he never even thought of it

· He often made jokes about the baby and how it's a little alien in your stomach, that you'll name it Kevin Junior and now it's all just.. gone

· "It's okay, baby, cry it out. I'm here for you.."

New :

· His heart will break into little pieces

· He was so excited for the little version of you both, it hurts so badly but he can't even imagine how you must feel

· "I'm here with you, baby.. Let it all out, okay?"

· He'll let you cry it out as he sweetly comforts you

Q :

· He'll think you're joking, laughing nervously

· "Baby, please don't joke like that. What did the doctor say? Is everything okay with the baby?"

· When he'll realize that you're not joking at all, he'll feel like the worst person on earth but his heart will also snap in half

· He'll be there for you 24/7, comforting you and giving you time to recover

Haknyeon :

· He'll be so shocked, all the words he'd want to say stuck in his throat

· "I'm here for you, baby.. and i'm not going anywhere, okay? Shh, kitten"

· He won't leave your side even for a small second, he'll be clinging to you 24/7

· He'll spoil you like a queen, just showering you with his love, care and affection

Sunwoo :

· His mouth will he wide open as you return from the doctor's office, telling him about it

· '"N-No.. Y/N, i'm so sorry.."

· He'll gently hold you, comforting you as well as he can

· You had so much plans and it all went down to ruins, but he's just happy you're safe

Eric :

( no gif because of limit )

· He was so overjoyed when you got pregnant, he instantly bought all the baby things

· He also bought like 10 books on how to be a father, he may be young but he wanted to be the best father ever for the baby

· "Mis..carriage? N-No, Y/N, you don't mean it, right?.."

· He'll be devastated but still give his all to comfort you and make you know you did your best

❀❀❀❀❀ a/n ❀❀❀❀❀

Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it!

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

None of the gifs are mine!

☆☆☆

Taglist :

@atiny-chocolate-chip @lmaoskz

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 14)

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I’m back at college but the next, and final 2 (!!) parts will be up within two weeks! AH! Thank you all so much for reading xoxo

Word count: 6.7k

Tw: angst, cursing, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“When I got home from Florida the house was even emptier. During the four days I was stuck in a hotel room drowning in my own tears and the minibar, you packed up the rest of your stuff and left. At that point, most of your things were in your apartment, all you had to get was some clothes and books. I wonder how long it took you to pack it all up, pack your life with me up. Did you stare at the walls and cry? The same way I did when I packed today? Did you take your time, go through each room and remember everything we did? Did you take it all in? Admire what we could have been? Were you even a little bit sad about leaving the life we tried and failed to build together? Or were you in and out in ten minutes? Did you shove your clothes in a suitcase, the same way you did in Florida, and walk out like it was nothing? Was it easy? Was it a relief? Were you happy to leave the key, lock the door, and never have to come back? 

I know I was devastated when I found it. 

It was in the dish we used to put our car keys and ID tags in. It was right by the front door. It was the first thing I saw when I got home. I walked in and dropped my own keys in the dish, and to my surprise I heard them clink as they hit into yours. At first I thought that meant you were there, waiting for me. I thought you were going to emerge from the kitchen with a wide smile and I’d run into your arms. So, I called out for you, yelling like an idiot in the front doorway, but I was only met with silence. The silence that signified the absence of you. The silence I had grown comfortable floating in. 

I stared at the key for a while, trying and failing to remember when I gave it to you. I feel like I gave you it pretty early on; you definitely had one before Jacksonville. But I cannot for the life of me pinpoint what day I handed you the key, with the hope that you’d always have it. The hope that my home would always be your home because we only felt at home when we were together. 

That damn key, sitting in a dish from Target was your way of saying that your home was no longer my home. It was your way of saying that you were done too, and the storm I had tried to control became a full on hurricane. I was sobbing, sitting against the front door and holding onto your key like it was the life raft that could stop me from drowning.

I’d give you this key as your momento, but I had to give it back to my landlord this morning. And now I have a new set of keys waiting for me in Seattle. Keys to a home that isn’t yours; only mine.”

Spencer sat on the couch now, appreciating the softness of it in comparison to the harshness of the dishwasher and kitchen floor. The boarding pass was burning into the kitchen table, his hands sweaty and trembling as he read and remembered. 

He remembered every moment after the breakup more vividly than he normally did. Usually his memories were like film strips that he had stored on a shelf in the corner of his mind. He could pick the one he needed out, kick his feet up in the theater of his mind and watch them back, popcorn in hand. But these memories were different. Memories of you were burned in. His brain was branded with them. It wasn’t a movie he could choose to play or not, it was constant, like a sad song stuck in his head, driving him insane. He never stopped thinking about it, replaying every word, regretting every moment, every yell, every item shoved in a suitcase, every raindrop, every tear stained sleeve. 

He hated himself for walking out. He hated that he could leave so easily, after his whole life was plagued with people leaving him too easily. He never wanted to be that man, especially to you. He surprised himself when he grabbed the suitcase, held you tightly one last time, and got in the elevator. He was ashamed to admit that the second those steel doors closed and he could no longer see you crying in the hallway, the first thing he felt was relief. He was finally alone again.

But then he realized he was actually alone. All alone. You weren’t there waiting for him to come back anymore. You were gone, and he was alone. 

The whole flight home didn’t feel real, it was like an out of body experience. He felt like a shell of a person, a hollow body merely going through the motions as the events of the last three years played in his mind. How did those people who danced in the kitchen in the daybreak’s sunlight end up here? One of you on a plane to escape the other, who was no doubt drowning themselves in mini tequila bottles and crappy room service food. How did the people who swore  to love each other through everything, end up as two lonely hearts wondering why promises and hearts are so damn easy to break.

The numbness first started up there in the sky, with nothing but gray stratus clouds to keep him company. The realization hit him up there. He was wrong. He couldn’t do this alone. He couldn’t be alone. He needed you; you needed each other. He thought about asking the pilot to turn around, take him back to that island so he could save this. He could pull the blue velvet ring box out of his bag and fix everything with just a few words. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he ate airplane peanuts and tried not to cry. When they landed and took the subway out as far as it would go and walked to your house. He hadn’t even intended to go there, it just happened. He started walking and his feet brought him there without his brain having any say. He stared at the front of the house, remembering the countless times he carried you over the threshold because you couldn’t stand. He remembered how he’d decorate for Halloween in September and how the day after Thanksgiving, you’d beg him to take out the boxes of Christmas decorations. He remembered how you insisted on listening to ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas,’ as he strung lights around the front porch and you made him hot chocolate.  

The house he saw now was bare. There were no Christmas lights strung on the front step, like they usually would have been by December fourth. There were no statues of snowmen and no wreath. It was just a house that was so clearly devoid of any and all love. 

He hadn’t thought about how the weather would be different there than in Florida, but the cold was comforting in a way. He didn’t bother changing. He stood in front of the house he no longer had any right to call his own, in flip flops, shorts, and a dress shirt. He allowed the cold air to bite at his skin until he was as numb on the outside as he was on the inside. 

He unlocked the door with his key, and took his time moving around. He started at the front door, where he saw the picture of the two of you at Rossi’s and his hatred for the four walls he used to call home came back. You hadn’t changed much of the place. The ultrasound was still pinned to the fridge with a smiley face magnet. Old flowers were hanging from the wall, case files littered the table. It looked like home, it just didn’t feel like home. 

He went through everything slowly, over several days. He started in the living room, where he saw the cave of blankets you’d no doubt been living in and the crack in his heart became a canyon. He should’ve been laying in those blankets with you, staring at the TV and listening to you drone on and on about how much you love Nick Miller. He hated that he wasn’t there with you. He climbed inside, in an attempt to make up for all the times he missed, and allowed the smell of you to envelope him. He dreamt of you. 

When he woke up the next morning, he smelled you again and instinctively reached out to pull you close to him, but when he did his hands were met by a mass of blankets rather than your warm skin. He sighed, and went into the kitchen. There he grabbed his favorite mug from the cabinet, filled it up, and sat at the table as he read the newspaper. He imagined you next to him, bringing him the sugar bowl and laughing at the name of the obscure town on the top of the page. 

“Where is Biwabik?” You’d say, pushing the sugar bowl over to him as he took two more spoonfuls.

“Minnesota,” he’d say plainly, reading about their local fireman’s bazaar.

“Oh, yeah, Biwabik, Minnesota,” You’d laugh and kiss his forehead before going upstairs to take a shower. 

He finished his coffee while staring at the gray sky. He hoped it would snow, so when you came home you’d be greeted by your favorite weather. 

He took a blisteringly hot shower and opened up your body wash just so he could memorize what it smelled like, just in case he never got to smell it again. The hot water defrosted his inner and outer numbness, allowing all his feelings to come to the top. The water mixed with his tears, the same way yours had with the rain. He was waiting for the day dream to end, all he wanted was to hear the sound of you opening the shower curtain, poking your head and asking, “Can I join?”

But that soothing sound never came. 

He stood under the hot water until it went cold, and moved into the bedroom. He stared at the bed he used to curl up next to you in. He found it hard to even look at, considering the last time he slept in it he woke up to the sheets being stained in blood. He moved to sit on the bed, trying not to disturb the specific way you made it. He looked at the sticky note you had placed next to you. It was from him, saying ‘I went in a little early today, didn’t want to disturb you on your day off. I can’t wait to see you at 6. I love you, Love.’ He smiled, knowing you placed it there so it was the first thing that you saw when you woke up each morning. But then he remembered that you put it there because each morning you weren’t waking up next to him. This note was as close as you could get. 

He looked through your drawers, smiling at the CalTech hoodie folded neatly on top. He decided to leave that one in the drawer. That way you’d always have a physical piece of him, even though you’d always have his heart. 

He moved from there into the nursery. It was empty. A regular person would just think it was a green spare bedroom, but he knew. He knew which wall the crib was going to go on. He knew that the hook from the ceiling was meant for the mobile Penelope had made. He knew what should’ve been there. 

Spencer spent three entire days in the house. He ate there, slept there, cried there. He felt all the feelings he’d been running from, and regretted that he hadn’t stayed with you to feel them together. 

Rossi was right, the only way through this was to lean on each other. Spencer hadn’t. He leaned as far away from you as he could. He realized just how lonely that two-bedroom could feel, and he understood how you’d nearly gone crazy in there. He was there for three entire days, and felt like he aged fifty years. Somehow, he felt closer to you than he had in months, even though you were 1,074.6 miles away in a hotel room he should’ve been in too. 

He talked to the moon each night, begging it to answer him. He didn’t know what to do. Should he let you go? Isn’t that the saying? ‘If you love something, let it go. If it doesn’t come back it was never yours in the first place’? Would you ever come back? Were you ever his? Was he ever really yours? Should he honor your wishes to break up? Should he pack this life up and leave without any closure? Without a proper goodbye? Or should he wait for you there? Kiss you the second you walked in the door and tell you that he was a fool, an idiot, that no one ever meant as much to him as you do? Should he fight for you?

But then he heard your voice ringing in his ears, “Don’t bother.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Don’t bother.”

And he didn’t. He packed his few things up, took one long, final look around with tears in his eyes, dropped his spare key in a dish, and walked home alone. 

“You forgot a few things, of course. You forgot the watch. You forgot the CalTech hoodie. You forgot your favorite mug. You can tell it’s well used and well loved because there’s a permanent coffee stain in the porcelain around the top where you always let it sit because it was too hot to drink. 

I gave you the mug my first day back to work. I couldn’t stand looking at it every time I opened the cupboard. I decided to be nice, give it to you as a peace offering before we started onto the uphill battle that was working together. I’d also like to consider this whole box a peace offering. I’m not mad at you. I don’t hate you. It’s the complete opposite, Spence. I love you too much to just watch you and not be with you. 

Three weeks after Florida, Hotch called me in for another mandatory evaluation. And I passed. I passed because I went to the counselor. I talked to Dr. Stevens for an hour and a half every Thursday and Sunday morning. I’d go in and he’d give me a glass of water and we’d chat. Sometimes it was about work, turns out I have a lot of pent up grief from all the things I’ve seen, but usually it was about us. I think I spent at least an hour and fifteen minutes each week talking about us. I told Dr. Stevens about every memory I’ve included in these letters. I told him about all of it, from the day I realized I love you, to the day I realized that I couldn’t anymore.

It was hard, probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I had to pour my heart out to someone who didn’t know me. I had to pour my heart out to someone who wasn’t you. I had to grieve the loss of a child and of a lover at once. But to my surprise, he helped. In a weird way, he seemed to understand. I know that’s just because it’s his job, he is literally trained to understand and help people with their grief, but I feel like he knew me. Not nearly the way that you did, but he knew me.”

A dark green monster formed in Spencer’s chest. The thought of another man learning about you in the way he had was enough to make his mouth taste sour. You let this other man into the most intimate parts of your brain, places only Spencer had ever gotten to go before. Did Dr. Stevens know you better than him? He couldn’t help the envy blooming in his chest at the idea. He wanted to be the person you poured yourself out to, and he had been. He wanted that back. 

“I’m doing better. That’s how I passed the eval. A male grief counselor helped me through my grief, which you said wouldn’t work. And you were wrong. I must admit it gives me a little bit of joy to tell you that. For once, Spencer Reid, you were wrong. And maybe if you had just agreed to go with me, you would feel better too. If you had just agreed, we never would have had that fight. You never would have packed a suitcase and gone down an elevator alone. 

I was right. For once in our lives, I was right, and you were wrong. I just wish it was about something more trivial than this. 

My first day back was a Wednesday, about a month and a half ago. I was terrified. I hadn’t seen you since Florida and everyone knew what had happened. Hell, my first day back in DC after the breakup, Derek sat me down with a bottle of tequila and let me cry until the couch was underwater. I just knew it would be awkward and painful and sad. I knew that our friends would stare at us and ‘pick sides’ as if we had suddenly become enemies. I was scared to sit at my desk across from yours and have to look at you. I was scared of the feelings. I was scared of all the progress I’d made in counseling going down the toilet the second I laid eyes on you, and I was right.

I showed up that morning in my best pencil skirt and blouse and pretty red heels. I did my hair. I put on makeup. I tried to make myself look good, so then I’d feel good. I had to fake it, so you wouldn’t be able to see the real me. I caked on makeup to cover up the bags under my eyes from crying over you for weeks. I brushed my hair and strands kept falling out because my hormones changed and I couldn’t eat most nights. I wore black tights so you wouldn’t be able to see the bruises on my knees from the nights I drank and cried and ended up with my head in a toilet, knees bumping the cold tile floor; desperately wishing it was morning sickness, so you’d be close behind me, rubbing my back and taking care of me.

When I exited the elevator, everyone greeted me as usual. I got hugs from the whole team, but you didn’t budge from your desk. You were staring at a book that I know you weren’t reading because you weren’t turning the pages. You were listening to me say hi to Rossi, tell him I missed him, and I could swear eyes flicked towards me a few times when I hugged Derek. That’s probably just wishful thinking, because I wanted you to look at me. I wanted you to see me, see that I was “fine.” I wanted you to look at me because I couldn’t stop looking at you. You, who I fell in love with over these same BAU desk partitions. I saw the ghosts of me and you three years ago, young and happy, your hair curling over your eyebrow, your pursed lips, the way your tie was just slightly crooked. I saw the you I wanted. I saw the man I stared at with lovesick stars in my eyes as we filled out Hotch’s paperwork. I saw me and you and Jacksonville and Meridian Hill Park and everything that we could have been.

And I cracked.

You didn’t even have to speak to me, Spencer, and I cracked.

I dropped my bag on the floor next to my desk and ran to the bathroom to cry off the makeup. Seeing you felt like I was drowning but on fire at the same time. I swear time stopped for a moment when I exited Garcia’s hug and saw you across the BAU. And suddenly I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t remember a single coping mechanism Dr. Stevens showed me. I just stood there. Frozen. Trepidation. Regret.

I stared at myself in the shitty flourescent lights of the bathroom, tears washing away my concealer and exposing the dark bags that matched my blood shot eyes. I stared at the way my cheek bones hollowed out since I’d lost over twenty pounds. I stared at a person I didn’t recognize, and that’s when I realized that I wasn’t the same person you fell in love with over the BAU partition either. I wasn’t the chirpy girl helping you jump start your car anymore. I wasn’t the same girl who bought your mother’s favorite book just to try and impress her. I wasn’t me. You weren’t you. So how could we possibly be us?”

Hotch had called Spencer into his office that morning to tell him you would be coming back.

“Is this going to be an issue?” He said, Spencer fiddling with his thumbs in an attempt to hide from Hotch’s stare.

“No, no problem.”

Hotch knew he was lying, and Spencer knew Hotch knew he was lying, but he was nice enough to let it go.

He sat at his desk and opened that book on epicureanism with the full intention of reading it. He was going to immerse himself in that in an attempt to avoid you. But when he opened the cover, the letters all jumbled together like alphabet soup on the page. Then he heard the familiar clack of your heels, and he looked up, just for a second. He noticed how beautiful you looked, but he recognized the sadness in your body. It was the same sadness he saw in his own every morning as he struggled to find the will to move from his position in bed.

He hadn’t gone to a counselor and learned coping mechanisms, the only one he knew was avoidance, but how could he avoid you? How could he avoid the way your smell lingered even after you dropped your bag and bolted to the bathroom? How could he avoid staring at the way Derek wrapped his arms around you, wishing they were his instead? How could he avoid the persistent, twisted, aching heart in his chest? How had he managed to avoid you for so long? He saw you up close, in the place you fell in love, for just a moment and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. 

“When I got back from the bathroom, I knew you could see me. You could see the real me, the me you didn’t want. 

I decided I wasn’t going to make this as painful for everyone else as it was for us, so I grabbed my bag, took the mug out and handed it to you. 

“I, uh, I found this in the cabinet,” I said weakly, and you grabbed it, our fingertips just brushing each other, an action that usually sent lightning down my spine, “I know it’s your favorite one so I wanted you to have it back.”

“T-Thanks,” You cleared your throat, “I’ll go fill it up with coffee. Want one?”

I smiled through the pain, proud of myself that our first interaction went well, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You brought me a coffee, made correctly. Cream and one sugar. I took it from you with a fake smile, trying to force back the pain in my chest.

Derek watched that entire painfully awkward interaction, and he pulled me into his office after.

”You good? That was a lot back there.”

 I whined, “No. I’m not good. I’m actually very bad.”

He sighed and pulled me in for a hug, “You’ve got this. You and Reid can handle it. We all know you still love each other.”

I started to cry into his chest, just softly. I didn’t need anyone else seeing how broken I was.

“Why did I think I could do it? I should just transfer.”

That was the first time I considered it out loud. The thought had been rattling around in my head for a bit, but saying it made it real.

Derek argued, “No, you don’t need to transfer.”

“Yes I do! Hotch said as much three years ago.”

“Just focus on getting through today, okay?”

I nodded, taking three deep breaths with Derek’s arms on my shoulders, keeping me grounded.

That’s when Penelope opened the door, poking her head in and telling us it was wheels up in twenty.

“You can stay here with me,” She said, coming over to hug me.

I shook my head, wiping away my last few stray tears, “No, I’ve been gone for far too long. I’m coming back.”

She smiled, “I’m so glad you are.”

We all went on the jet, Hotch insisting he’d brief us in the air. I sat at a window seat, next to Derek and across from Hotch and Rossi. You, Alex, and JJ sat opposite from us. I could feel the tension, the passing glances, the sides being chosen, the hushed voice you spoke in so I wouldn’t hear you or even look at you. I felt like an outcast in a plane full of my favorite people.

The case was in Las Vegas. Of course my first case back had to be in your hometown. Of course it had to be in a place that felt like a second home for me. 

“Morgan, Y/N, take the latest crime scene,” Hotch ordered me, and I let out a nervous sigh that was much louder than I intended. You all turned to look at me, expressions varied from pity from Hotch to annoyance from you.

Hotch looked me up and down, “Actually, Y/N come with me to the precinct.”

“I-uh-okay?” I said, feeling embarrassed and small and useless and worthless. Because while you got to look at the bodies, I got to look at sweaty Vegas cops.

He didn’t think I could handle it. No one did. None of you thought I could, and guess what? You were right.

I fell apart. That entire case I was a wreck. My brain didn’t work right. I couldn’t profile, crime scene photos made me want to cry, I could barely even look at the family members.

I was actually useless there. I was useless because of you. Because the way the files smelled reminded me of you and I had to watch you talk to Alex and JJ and not talk to me and I had to watch the way you scrunch up your nose and the way your hair falls in your eyes and you brush it away. Because you had all the answers and I had none. Because you were always everything, and I merely accompanied you. Because you’re more of an asset to them than five of me would be.

And that’s why I left.

I left because after that case you stayed back for a day and saw your mom, and usually I would’ve been there with you. I left because that flight home was empty without you, even though you weren’t even looking at me. I left because I don’t know what’d I’d do if you ever got hurt and I wasn't the one sleeping in your hospital bed with you. I left because I cannot live in a life that I shared with you anymore. I left because I love you too much to stay.

When we landed in Quantico that day, I went to the bathroom again to cry. Derek followed me but I shoved him off. I locked myself in a stall and screamed one of those silent screams when you’re too angry and frustrated to even make a noise.

I stared at myself in the mirror again. I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t accepted that part yet. I’d accepted everything else except for the fact that I was broken, and no amount of hugs from Penelope or stolen glances at you were going to fix it. The only thing that would fix it was going as far away from you as possible.

I got my transfer papers from Hotch the next day.

He argued, told me to rethink, told me to take more days off, told me that it would all get better with time.

“Reid’s reasonable,” He said, “And if it’s time–”

“No, I know that I want to transfer. You said so yourself. If it got too hard, I’d have to go. Well it’s too hard, Aaron. I have to go.”

He sighed, “What unit? I can get you a place almost anywhere. Sex crimes? Back in organized?”

I twiddled my thumbs and sighed, “LA?”

“LA?,” He shook his head and gestured for me to sit down, “Sit Y/N. We need to talk about this.”

He went on a very convincing lecture then. He almost got me to stay, but the only person who actually could’ve gotten me to stay was you. At the end he reluctantly gave me the paperwork and told me, “I hope you don’t regret this.”

I really, really, hope I don’t.

The papers sat in a file folder on my desk for three weeks, taunting me. I hadn’t gotten up the nerve to fill them out yet. I’m not sure what I was waiting for. I think maybe I was waiting for you, or maybe I was waiting for it to get better. Waiting for it to not hurt every time I looked over at you or heard you laugh with JJ. But after three weeks, I realized that was never going to happen. It was never going to stop hurting me or stop hurting you, so I filled out the papers last  Thursday, and five days later Hotch told me about Seattle. I immediately accepted, and packed up my desk.

Except for this, your item for this letter, my name plate. “Y/N Y/L/N Supervisory Special Agent- Behavioral Analysis Unit” doesn’t really belong on my new desk. The nameplate reminds me of pining over you across the round table and Emily poking my shoulder and telling me ‘just go for it!’ It reminds me of sneaking into your hotel room on cases and double-cheek kisses from Rossi. It reminds me of filling out paperwork to declare our relationship, and filling out paperwork to get away from it. It reminds me of us, all of us. It reminds me of my old life. The life I’d like to leave behind, so it’s yours.”

Spencer’s fingers traced the engraved letters of your name, one by one, his mind far away recalling that case and the few days when he stayed back in Las Vegas. He saw his mom for the first time since everything happened. 

The first day he visited and the nurses told him it was a good day, one of her best days in recent history. He smiled sadly, knowing that what he was about to share would make it one of the worst.

He walked into her room, every muscle tensed. Diana smiled, wrapped her arms around him warmly and the first thing she did was ask for you. 

“When I heard I was getting a visit I was thrilled! Where’s Y/N? Gosh she must be big by now.”

He avoided her gaze, as if he was a child avoiding being scolded, “Y/N isn’t coming.”

“She’s not?” She asked, and Spencer immediately regretted not telling her about the last two months sooner. He kept putting it off, not quite knowing how to break his mother's heart while dealing with his own. 

“No, mom, and I think you should sit down.”

“Sit? Spencer, sweetheart, what is it? You’re worrying me.”

He sat down, knee bouncing and hands fidgeting just to release some of the pent up energy inside of him, “Y/N and I, we–we broke up.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, just as his always did, lips pressed into a line, “Spencer Reid you left a pregnant girl? I raised you better than that!”

He bit his lips, not knowing exactly how to say the words that came next, “Mom, Y/N, she–“ He stopped himself, correcting himself for once, “We lost her.”

Diana’s mouth fell open slightly, “Lost the baby?”

Spencer couldn’t do much but nod, the tears he had been forcing back for weeks flooding his eyes and running over like a waterfall. His eyes were shut, the shame of it all overcoming him. 

The next thing he felt were her arms around him, pulling him close as he fell apart. 

“Th-there was nothing I could do, nothing anyone could do,” he choked out between ragged breaths, “I-I should’ve been able to do something! I should’ve been able to protect her and I didn’t and now—”

She cut him off, her cold hands rubbing the tears off his hot cheeks, “Sometimes things just, well they just happen.”

He nodded, “And then Y/N…”

“Spencer, how’d you let her go?”

He shrugged, wiping at his nose, “I-I don’t know. I can’t believe I left. I just—“

His voice was getting rushed and his breath was getting quick, like he was drowning in tears and regret. 

“Shh, stop,” She said, hands running through his hair the same way they did when he was a boy, “You’ve already lost so much, don’t lose her too.”

When he left his mother that day he took her words to heart. He wasn’t going to lose you too, he was going to make up for those two months. When he arrived back in DC, his first stop was your house. He knocked on the door, go-bag on his shoulder. There was no answer. He knocked again. And again. And again. 

You never opened up.

He was expecting you to open the door and smile at him and invite him inside, but the door stayed locked, his key to it being inside. That night he stayed on the step until one in the morning, when he begrudgingly got in his car and drove away. The next night he came back, and the next, and the next, and the next, the door always staying shut. He left each time feeling more and more defeated.

He knew you were in there, he could see your shadow appear and disappear, and every night he’d stay until the January air became too much to bear. He swore he could hear you slide down the door a few times, sitting as close back to back with him as possible. 

He went every night until one day, when he was laying against the cold door, half asleep and frostbitten, Derek appeared in front of him.

“Reid,” He whispered, voice sympathetic but also stern, “You gotta stop doing this. This isn’t healthy.”

Spencer stood up, his breath visible as he spoke, “I know.”

“She isn’t going to let you in.”

“I know,” he mumbled, fixing his wool coat and starting to walk away. Derek watched him as he made his way across the snow-covered yard. He turned around and called to him.

“Morgan! Just, just tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I miss her.”

Derek nodded, opening your front door and entering the place Spencer wished he could be: with you. 

“I don’t know what happened to you in Vegas, but when you came back, you were different. At work you still avoided me like I was a rat with the plague, but then every night I’d hear you knocking on my door, begging to be let in.

“I love you,” you’d say, “I take it all back.” As if you ever could. 

I’d sit on the stairs that face the door, head in my hands, trying to find the willpower to keep the door closed. Then I’d see your key, sitting in the dish you put it in, and it was easy to keep the door closed, because you’re the one who shut it.

You came almost nightly for a week. I’d always look through the peephole. I’d sit with my back to the door the same way yours was. I’d wrap myself in a blanket and sleep there, as close to you as I could, but I kept the door shut.

I know it’s terrible, but part of me wishes that we never met. That instead I stayed making espresso shots in Connecticut and never went back to this life. In this wish, Dave never called me. I never saw your dopey smile and immediately fell in love. Maybe then you wouldn’t be all I think about. Maybe then you’d get out of my head, because as long as I know you, I’ll never love anyone else.

But that way of thinking is behind me. Now, I see you as a lesson I had to be taught. I learned how to love, and how I deserve to be loved. I learned how to smile and laugh and really care about someone other than myself. I learned how to grieve and appreciate my life and I learned what real, true love is. I learned about soulmates and science and how to smile so hard my cheeks hurt. I learned how to let go.

But I learned hard lessons too; like that the Beatles were wrong, love isn’t all you need. You need passion and commitment and happiness and compromise. I learned that sadness can be a greater emotion than love. I learned that heartbreak is real and sometimes the people you love more than anything in this world can hurt you. And I’m grateful to you, for every lesson you ever taught me. I’m grateful for every single second I spent with you. I’m grateful for you, Spencer Reid.

Thank you.”

“Thank you”

He could practically hear you whisper it to him.

He found it funny that you were thanking him for breaking your heart, time and time again, because all he felt was regret.

He glanced up at the clock, realizing that he needed to leave now if he had any chance of making the flight to you. He haphazardly collected the letters and all the objects you gave him from where he placed them around the apartment. He grabbed a duffle bag, stuffing it with clothes and whatever things he thought he may need. He grabbed the ring box, debating for a moment whether or not it was too much, too soon. He decided to throw caution to the wind.

What is it Morgan says? Go big or go home?

Spencer was going big, and you were coming home. 

He kicked the front door closed as he left, box overflowing with papers and the ring box burning in his back pocket.

Letter fifteen would have to wait.

Part 15!

 —————————

Taglist

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[soljirk]

↳ * MUSE UPDATES < may 2018 >

i feel like it’s been a long time since i’ve done one of these but also because suji needs new plots in her life, i figured it would be a good time to lay all this out. since there’s a heavy trigger warning at the end of this post, i’ll be posting some plot ideas at the top of this post so that there’s no need to pass that point if you’re uncomfortable reading it ! if you’d like to plot, feel free to LIKE or REPLY to this post and i’ll reach out to you !

⇢ plot ideas :

one thing i’ve come to realize is that suji has become very insular ( i don’t think that’s the right word ) but basically she only has threads with nova trainees so some good FRIENDSHIP plots would be much appreciated. because of the turns that her life has taken, it’s been really hard to get her to really go out, so someone who is willing to make that push would be a++. basically, she needs all the distractions that she can get.

FAMILY plots ! i don’t think i have a single family plot that has been threaded out lately. perhaps a deeper family relationship of sorts. maybe a cousin she grew up with who actually knows more than most people. or even a cousin that she hates if you want to take that dynamic. 

some other miscellaneous prompts:

“sure, i used to be a regular, but i literally haven’t been to this coffee shop in a while. how do you still remember my order??”

“okay buddy you’ve been serenading the wrong window for about five minutes now, time to let you know my neighbor is out of town”

“can i sleep over? my parents are fighting again.” - for any muses who live at home

i’m, of course, open to any other ideas too since i’m really bad at coming up with plots OTL ... now, onwards to what’s actually been happening in suji’s life.

⇢ training :

just passed her seven month anniversary since being signed by nova

isn’t particularly happy or unhappy there ... she’s just been a bit ambivalent about the whole thing as of late

she’s also been losing focus as to what she wants to do. while she knows she wants to move in the direction of being a singer, she doesn’t really know what else she wants. there’s so much that she wants to do and not enough time that she ends up getting tired just thinking about it all

with things that have happened, her training has been declining significantly as her body hasn’t been able to keep up even with the extra time that she plans to put in. this also makes her feel even more discouraged that she’s falling behind everyone else.

⇢ relationships :

relationship with fellow trainees: somewhat nonexistent. she’s friendly and polite to them, but partly due to a lot of secrets that she has in her life, it’s made it hard for her to open up to them. she also feels like she has to practice ten times harder as she’s newer, and so she would rather spend time training than actively pursuing friendship, which is also not the smartest thing on her end. 

relationship with friends: feels as if she’s been distancing herself from them lately, but she primarily blames it on her schedule. she has promised to try and do better.

relationship with jaebum: the only relationship that she has been sure of. because of certain circumstances, they have been relying on each other a lot and she spends most of her nights at his place. they’ll be celebrating six months at the end of may.

⇢ family :

hasn’t really seen any of her family recently ⇢ also a reason for her slump

her brother and sister-in-law, however, did cook for her a lot when she wasn’t well

because of her schedules, she hasn’t talked to her son in a long time, which she hates

⇢ physical / emotional health : ( TW !!! pregnancy ; miscarriage ; breakdown )

i would advise not to read if any of the tags are triggering. i’m adding another gif here just to segment it off some more. 

suji is at an extremely low point in her physical and emotional health

this is primarily driven by the miscarriage that she suffered at the beginning of may 

in late april, suji started feeling more tired than normal in addition to occasional morning sickness ( though she didn’t really attribute to that at first ). she thought it was stress from training, but as she had been pregnant before, the symptoms felt oddly familiar.

eventually, she told jaebum her speculation. instead of taking a pregnancy test ( because she feared that she might be caught buying one at the pharmacy ), she scheduled a doctor’s appointment to confirm this matter.

at first, suji was really upset that this was her luck again, getting pregnant at a time when she couldn’t be pregnant. however, as she and jaebum discussed plans, the reality of it no longer seemed scary. in fact, she almost looked forward to living a normal life again.

on the day of her doctor’s appointment, she began experiencing extremely heavy cramping. the doctor didn’t even need to tell her and she knew something was wrong. 

as would be expected, she completely broke down. the doctor advised that her body needed rest and requested a week off for her from training. during that week, she didn’t leave the house ( this week is technically still ongoing but minor details )

she’s been having trouble eating and sleeping and once she’s finally able to go back to training, she’ll probably end up overdoing it as a means of distracting herself

obviously, she plans on telling no one. even her own mother doesn’t know of this, and she told her brother only because he was trying to get ahold of her and got upset that she wouldn’t let him see her.

basically, she’s a mess at the moment, so please bear with us as she works through this

[hamilkilo]

It's Only a Matter of Time

Prompt: REQUESTED BY ANON: Hamilsquad x reader where reader has a miscarriage Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad X Reader TW: miscarriage, sobbing, feelings, mourning, loss, losing a child, pain, LOTS OF PAIN A/N: I struggled on this piece a bit. I wanted to do my best to portray the feelings of loss related to this topic. I know that everyone deals with this differently. I did enjoy writing it though, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you to the anon who requested it! Also, thank you to everyone for the love and support! I love y'all! If you want me to tag something, please let me know! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! Please Enjoy! Word Count: 1053 The walls were painted in a pretty pink and white scheme. The pink was pastel-you had insisted. You didn’t want to think of Thomas Jefferson every time you went into the room. The floors were a warm, golden wood. There were a few shag carpets, alternating between pink and white that scattered through the rooms. There was a deep, padded window seat with blankets piled high. In the corner was a chest, filled to the brim with plush toys like bunnies, turtles, and lions. In the opposite corner was a rocking chair with a quilt slung over it. The wood matched the wood of the chest and the floor. The quilt was a rainbow of fabric. There were night lights shaped like castles plugged into the wall, which gave off dim, multicolored lights once the sun went down. Against one wall, there was a changing table stocked to the brim with supplies, meticulously planned. And against the opposite, light pink wall, was a crib. The wooden crib matched the rest of the wooden objects, the accents matched the room. A mobile of ducks hung over it, occasionally turning. Your boys had thought of everything when you had designed the room. You didn’t want your baby to want a single thing. 
You didn’t decorate the room for a girl-you didn’t know the sex of the baby at the time-you just thought the color pink was really nice and comforting. You didn’t care what gender they were, you just knew they’d grow up liking the color pink. You had already named the baby Jacquelyn, and you were calling them Lenny. You had all been so excited to meet the new addition to the family, despite the fact that it was still early in the pregnancy. 
You were sitting in the rocking chair, rocking back and forth with the bundle in your arms. You smiled down at it, readjusting the blankets and gently running your fingers over the soft bundle. You hummed quietly as you rocked, not wanting to wake it up. You had started lightly singing Complainte de la Butte, as it had already been decided that your baby would know French, Spanish, and English. Your boys had been excited to teach them their languages. When you finished Complainte de la Butte, you switched over to your favorite lullaby, Lullabye, by Billy Joel. You started to cry as you rocked, but you kept the wailing to a minimum so not as to wake it up. 
“Someday we’ll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on…” your sobbing got harsher, and you clutched the blankets to your chest. “They-they never die,” you couldn’t get it, you were choking on the ending of the lullaby. 
“Y/N?” A gentle voice asked from the doorway, but you didn’t look up. You just wanted to be alone. You just wanted to cry alone. You didn’t want them to see you like this. But of course, they would never leave you alone. 
“‘Ey, Y/N,” the man crouched down in front of you and cupped your tear stained cheek. You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at Lafayette, and he had a pained look in his eyes. 
“I’m sorry, Laf,” you choked out. You had stopped rocking, but you sill hugged your bundle to you. 
“Shh, mon ange,” he crooned, and he pulled you out of the rocking chair and into his arms. “It’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself. You heard what the doctor said… sometimes, these things just happen.” 
“He’s wrong!” You didn’t care about waking the baby anymore. You held the bundle in one arm and shoved him away from you, furious. “I should’ve been a better mother! I… I should’ve been more careful! It’s my fault!” You sniffled and wiped your eyes on your sleeve. “But I wasn’t… and all we have left is… is this!” You let the bundle fall from your arms and onto the floor. A toy lion rolled out of the loose blankets, and you crumpled. Laf moved to grab you, but you cringed away, your face scrunched up in misery. 
When you had gone to the bathroom and found blood, you knew it was bad. You didn’t feel off. Sure, you’d had some cramping that day, but it was normal. Your boys took you to the emergency room, and you saw your doctor… He had explained what had happened… He had said something about a hostile womb, and that it’s not uncommon… but he was replaced by a full roar in your ears. Your boys had cried, but you just stared at the man while his mouth moved, unable to feel. 
Your body shook with sobs, and Laf finally pulled you into his arms, holding you to him. You could feel him crying too, earth shattering sobbing from the both of you. How did people deal with this? How did they come back from this? There was no coming back from this, you decided. It was always going to be there. Always looming. 
“It’s not your fault, Y/n,” Laf cried into your hair, and you clutched at his shirt. “We don’t blame you. It’s not your fault. I promise. Please, don’t blame yourself. We’ll make it through this, we’re 'ere with you, d'accord?” 
You cried harder, but said nothing. 
“Y/N? Laf?” You heard footsteps down the hall, and Alex came in, followed by John and Herc. They had been out shopping. You’d spent the last few days in the nursery, refusing to leave. They decided not to force you, and they left Laf to make sure you were okay. When they saw you, they immediately rushed to your side, a cluster of limbs and sniffling. They had lost a child, too. 
“I miss them,” you strangled out, and Laf kissed the top of your head. 
“I do, too,” Herc whispered from behind you. 
“My little Lenny…” your voice broke on their name, and you began to sob again. No one said anything, for they were probably crying too. You all just stayed there in each other’s arms, crying, mourning. You were dealing with the unimaginable. You were surviving. Nothing would replace Lenny in your heart, but over time, maybe the loss wouldn’t hurt so much. It was only a matter of time. And you had time.

[ao3feed-cullistair]

by Lady_Jane666

Written for the #14dalovers prompt for "Napping"

While pregnant with her first child and sequestered in Skyhold, Maeve has been putting up a protest at being made to feel like a prisoner in her own home. Cullen and Alistair are forced to put their feet down about the matter with Maeve's closest friends and family, and then attempt to calm the nerves of the exhausted mother-to-be.

"Placing the parchment on the table, Alistair took a step back so he was standing next to Cullen. They were an intematding pair, there was no doubt about that. Both men were broad and larger than many of their counterparts. Alistair stood slightly taller than Cullen and was near as broad. Though he was thinner, he was far from a small man. He tugged down his deep brown leather jerkin as he pondered what he should say in that moment. With a long deep breath, his arms now crossed in the same defensive stance. For a moment he could spy the smirk playing on Leliana’s lips seeing him match Cullen’s stance and expression. “I agree, we cannot dictate her every movement. I like to think I know my Sparrow well enough that keeping her in a cage like that is going to drive her to break out. In the middle of the night.”

Words: 7754, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Maeve and Her Boys - Oneshots, smut and all the fun stuff

Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi

Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Alistair (Dragon Age), Morrigan (Dragon Age), Original Inquisitor Character(s) (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai, Josephine Montilyet, Leliana (Dragon Age), original witch of the wilds

Relationships: Alistair/Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Alistair/Female Inquisitor, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Alistair/Cullen Rutherford, Alistair (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Alistair/Inquisitor

Additional Tags: OT3, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Cuddles, 14dalovers prompt, Tumblr Prompt, Napping, Polyamory, Pregnancy, tw: mentions of past miscarriage, Cullen and Alistair are honestly adorable, Maeve is just a wreck, pregnancy fluff, Lyrium Addiction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Cullen Rutherford, Bisexual Alistair (Dragon Age), Mentions Past Abuse

[neptune-lover]

Pregnant? Pt 1

Hi everyone this is my first ever story I hope you enjoy this is a ploy Judgement day fan fic so I how you guys enjoy it Also I will be using their actual names

Tw: talks of pregnancy, mentions of death and miscarriage, mentions of vomit/throwing up and mentions of sex(this is through out the entire story btw and this will be multiple parts)

It was about 3 am when Y/n woke up suddenly feeling very sick. She got up and ran to the bathroom suddenly feeling like she was about to throw up. She's throwing up into the toilet when she feels her hair being pulled back. It was one of her loving boyfriends Damian. He held her hair back while the threw up and once she was done she wiped her face and brushed her teeth before hearing Damian ask "you ok muñeca". " she turned to face Damian "Not really. My stomach really hurts and I just feel super nauseous" she said. "I'm sorry amor do you wanna to go in the living room and we can watch TV or something until you feel better" Damian offered. "I would like that a lot please baby" Y/n said "ok then lets go amor" said Damian as he picked you up into his arms to go and lay down on the couch with you to watch some tv in hopes of getting you back to sleep. A little while later around 6 am Rhea comes out of the bedroom that the five of you shared looking for her two missing partners only to find them in the living room watching Alice in wonderland. That immediate told Rhea something was wrong because that was Y/n comfort movie that was usually put on when she was 1. Sick 2. On her period or 3. Having a really bad time mentally not just cuz she felt like it and if that's the case then it's kinda weird. So Rhea was immediately concerned and went to check on them she saw both of them wide awake on the couch watching the movie "hey loves are you ok". " Not really I woke up feeling really nauseous and ended up throwing up in the bathroom" said Y/n in a somewhat sad tone. "I'm sorry princess I'll stay in here with you and Luis and go back to sleep ok love" Rhea suggested in a soothing tone. "Ok that sounds good to me Dem's". And this that Damian got up and went to the bedroom to go join his 2 boyfriends in bed while demi stayed up with Y/n for the rest of the night till the other 3 awoke fully.

So that was all for part one of this series I hope you guys enjoyed and I will try to get part two out soon also I will start a tag list so if you wish to be added let me know love you guys bye

[neptune-lover]

Pregnant? Pt 2

hi guys welcome back this is part two to my pregnant series I'm working on a few ideas rn they are just in the starting phase but hopefully I can get those out and start a master list if the stories I plan to do anyways I hope you guys enjoy

Tag list @moxkindagirl

Tw: talks of pregnancy, mentions of death and miscarriage, mentions of vomit/throwing up and mentions of sex(this is through out the entire story btw and this will be multiple parts)

It was now 10 am both Y/n and Rhea never went back to sleep. Everyone was now awake in the house. Dominik decided to make strawberries and cream crepes as it's y/n's favorite breakfast to eat. She didn't feel sick the rest of the morning and because of it being smackdown tonight and it just so happened to be in the city where the couples home was they didn't have to travel far today which made Y/n very happy. All 5 of them were members of Judgement day but the group already knew Y/n wasn't scheduled to be on the show tonight so she called Hunter (triple H for those who don't know) and let him know she wouldn't be in the building as she didn't feel good. The others however all had either fights or promos to do so Rhea took the lead and called in reinforcement. Who was the reinforcement you may ask well it was three of Y/n's best friends in wwe who they knew weren't scheduled to be on tonight. They were Becky, Seth and Liv. All people who either helped train her or had been by her side dating back to her NTX days especially Becky and Liv they were her best friends and Seth decided to come with Becky to come help cheer Y/n up. "So how exactly did you feel last nigh" Liv asked curious as she had a cousin who was a nurse so she knew a bit about health and medical stuff. "Well it was kinda just out of the blue I woke up and felt super sick and like throwing up" Y/n said "Ok well have you felt like that at all the rest of the day" Becky now asked as the wheels in her brain started turning. Y/n replied "Nope I've actually felt fine the rest of the day just a but restless and sleep and haven't been tired since I woke up" "ok and remind me what time this was again" Seth now said now believing he was thinking the same as his wife. "Ok I get you guys are trying to help but what's with all the questions" Y/n asked slightly agitated now with all the questions. Becky replied "Well what's your description sounds like morning sickness which is common in pregnancy" "That's exactly what I was starting to think" Liv and Seth said at the same time. Seth chimed in again "I remember Becky struggled with that a decent amount when she was pregnant with Roux"." Wait so you guys think I'm pregnant " Y/n said in a shocked tone "Well I'm not saying you 100% are but it's possible especially if you guys have been having unprotected sex especially recently" Becky explained. Silence filled the room Liv was the one to break it "Do you have any tests here or do you need to buy one or two" "Two would be more ideal because it's better to do two than one I remember my first test was negative then I took another it was positive I went to the doctors later that day and turns out I was pregnant" Becky said. "I can go drive to a store real quick and pick up a two pack if you don't have any" Seth offered. "Well this was never expected this early so we don't have any so if you wouldn't mind running to grab some I would appreciate it" Y/n said in a hushed tone. "Ya I'll go run right now" and with that Seth left the three girls alone while he went to go buy some pregnant tests.

That's all for part 2 I hope you guys enjoyed and part 3 will be out soon beyyyy

[neptune-lover]

Pregnant? Pt6

Author note:HOWDY sorry this took forever I've been sick the last few weeks and late last week I ended up getting an allergic reaction to something we still don't know yet I see my allergist soon about it but I've also had writers block so I apologize this took so long but here it finally is

Tag list: @hauntedpostpersona @moxkindagirl @babybatlover

Tw: talks of pregnancy, mentions of death and miscarriage, mentions of vomit/throwing up and mentions of sex, use of their real names

It's been about a week since Rhea took the test and you guys went to the appointment and found out that both of you we're in fact pregnant about 2-2 and a half months to be exact. Both of you and all 3 of the boys were very excited but some other people didn't have the best opinions about this. Of course you guys had to tell hunter so he could plan a head and set up a promo to announce you departure from the company for about the next year. The boys decided that it was alternate 1 being home and the other two being away every week so one of them would be home with both girls. Hunter was very excited to hear the news considering he was the one who brought you to NXT from Japan all those years ago. But some of your fellow could workers were not the happiest although you had the ones who were your closest friends out side the WWE Universe like Baily, Becky, Asuka, Seth, liv and so many others but then again not all of you got along in real life like solo sikoa which was weird because the rest of the bloodline were very good friends with you and Damian. Speaking of bloodline Sami was another wrestler fond of you all because of the whole poly thing he never understood and though it was selfish for someone to date more than one person. But all your guy's friends threw a party for you and Rhea as a going away for now kinda thing which was a lot of fun Bad Bunny was there as him and Damian were still the best of friends Rey was there as he was happy he was getting 2 grand kids and he said that if Eddie was still with all of you he would be so happy for all of you and be proud if how far Dominik has come and some of your friends brought their little ones as everyone loved them like edge brought Ruby and lyric and Becky and Seth brought Roux but it was a lot if fun and you were so tired afterwards that when you got home you and Rhea got changed into some pj's and just passed out on the bed. It's been a few days since the party and currently you were sitting on the couch waiting for Finn to finish cooking lunch because you were extremely hungry and today Rhea decided she wanted to backstage with the other two because it was Finn's turn to stay home today so it would just be the two of you.

Hey guys that's all for part 6 I hope you enjoyed again so sorry it took so long I had a bunch if shit going on and I don't always also have a bunch of motivation so being sick and all that didn't help with that but hopefully I will be back to making a bunch of stuff soon and don't forget to check out my request post I'm currently working on one but please feel free to flood my inbox cuz that also give me motivation and also if you aren't sure if I do a character ask in the request and I'll DM you if I make stuff for that character or not