#pregnancy whump

[acer-whumpstuff]

I’m gonna be honest I’ve never seen this before but as someone with tokophobia I really think we as a community could make some great pregnancy whump.

Whumpee giving birth alone after having just escaped Whumper?

Whumpee fearing for their baby’s safety every time whumper comes to hurt them?

Whumpee asking Caretaker to choose saving the baby over them, or them over the baby, even if Caretaker wants to save them both?

Theres potential here.

[positivelyruined]

and I don’t give a damn about your tattoos

‘cause my heart is yours

so don’t you worry your pretty little mind

people throw rocks at things that shine

life makes love look hard

the stakes are high, the water’s rough,

but this love is ours

Yours. Yours. Yours.

His words resounded in Feyre’s ears, reflecting off the forgotten memories within her mind.

Safe. She was safe with her High Lord. Finally, she knew that she could rest in the arms of someone who cared. Care was a different kind of love. It was not passionate, or soul possessing — but the quiet strength that Tamlin carried was a bandage to her fraying heart.

Yet, Feyre could not rest. Before she’d even settled in his arms, intense pain shot through her core. It felt like she was ripping in two. She let out a strangled cry, clinging to his very bones as he carried her up three flights of stairs and into a tattered, but clean bedroom.

Her vision blurred.

“Wrong…” She murmured, hiding her face in his chest. “Something — wrong.”

Her skin returned to its clammy, cold state. Why am I so hot? Why is it all…so cold.

“ALIS!” Tamlin’s voice boomed around the walls of the manor, even as he knelt by the bed, protectively covering her body with his own. He conjured up a long, soft cotton gown and carefully pulled it over her head.

She was in critical condition — heavily with child and in the process of laboring. One of the last serious conversations that he remembered having with his mate was over her fear of childbirth. They’d been taking serious precautions. Clearly. Not everyone cared to do the same.

Rhysand. Tamlin felt anger pool in his fingertips. He forced himself to be gentle, resting a hand on her tense abdomen. She was right — something was wrong. Feyre was not Illyrian. Yet, he was eighty-nine percent certain that the baby she carried within her had some form of wings. Her body was not equipped to handle this task.

I have to shift them. He was grasping at straws trying to comprehend what was happening. There wasn’t much time. If it had taken her four years to break her bond with Rhysand, he did not have long before the dark daemanti showed up at his doorstep.

Tamlin pressed both of his hands against her stomach.

“This is going to hurt.” He whispered. “But then it will get so much better.”

Feyre was sweating and tears poured down her face. She was in no state to speak. Especially, as another contraction began and her stomach twisted. It felt like something was tearing its way out of her.

“T—T—Tamlin.” She stuttered. “What is happening to me?”

“You’re in labor.” He said calmly. “Try to breathe.”

“Labor?” Feyre was not in the present. She was lost. The last thing she remembered was their wedding day. “Tam — we promised. We promised.”

Her face contorted in pain.

“I know.” Tamlin smoothed her sweaty hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry.”

He knew Rhysand would never apologize. She deserved one.

“We…” She gazed up at him, her eyes swimming. “We’re having a baby?”

A part of Tamlin’s shattered heart pierced his mind. This should be their baby. If things could’ve gone differently, it would be. Could’ve been ours. Should’ve been ours.

Ours.

Accepting offspring whom your mate bore with another was no easy task — it went against the very nature of the bond; but Tamlin had fought enough for the bond. He wasn’t going to start living by its rules today.

He concentrated, carefully smoothing his hands across her and mitigating the damage with a soft shift of the little Illyrian inside. Almost instantly, both mother and child relaxed, falling back into a daze, against the pillows.

Alis came scurrying in the doorway, breathless. “Good gracious, Sire. It took me seven tries to find you. This house has too much space for —“

She stopped, staring at the bed. “Lady Feyre? Did you — Tamlin? What is this?”

“She winnowed here.” He whispered. “The last place she remembered safety.”

“And she’s —“

“Yes, yes —“ He began pacing the room. “I cannot take back time. Despite that she does not appear to remember.”

“This is…his child?” Alis knew better than to say Rhysand’s name.

Tamlin shook his head. “She is my mate...”

What did that mean for their future?

“He’ll come after her.” Alis shuddered. “That man always was relentless.”

“Not this time.” Tamlin pressed his lips into a firm line. “Watch her, please; I need to put up wards.”

With a flick of his hand, he disappeared, warding the bedroom with anti-winnowing spells. The rest of the manor…the rest of Spring…if he did not protect it now, everything would slip from hands and into the darkness — again.

He wasn’t going down without a fight.

Feyre awoke to a deep seated ache in her back. She blinked, heavily — trying to remember where she was now. Memories of her wedding day flitted to the forefront of her mind. She yawned, expecting to see a horrifically puffy dress awaiting her, hanging from the wardrobe.

There was nothing and no one. The room was dusty and silent.

I have clothes. A strange relief flooded her as she saw regular cotton garments stretched across her skin. I…I am with child. How?

I must be dreaming.

We swore —

Feyre sucked air in, quickly, as the contractions began again. I am in labor.

Tam. Tam. Tamlin. Her brain repeated his name, urging her towards the only person who could make sense of this mess. TAMLIN.

Tamlin was in tune to Feyre’s daemanti calls. He heard his name and instantly winnowed back to her side, only to be slammed away by the barrier of his own creation.

The High Lord unlocked the door the human way, closing it behind him with the a rapid firing of protective spells. No one was getting in here — not if he had any say in the matter. “Feyre?”

She was lying in the same place, grasping at the bedsheets, as pain gripped her body. “Tam…Tam — what’s going on?”

It was like a broken record. Tamlin took a seat on the edge of the bed and took her hand.

She strangled his fingers.

Damn. He winced, sending a pulse of pain relief in her direction. “You’re struggling to remember. It’s not our wedding day, Fey. But it is your son’s birthday.”

“Mine?” Feyre whispered, looking lost.

“Our son.” Tamlin swallowed, correcting himself, and carefully placing his pain on a high shelf to be dealt with later. Right now, he had to focus on her. “Our son. You can’t fight this anymore.”

Feyre met his eyes, broken trust burned between them, but she slowly nodded. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m right here.” Tamlin brought her hand to his lips. “I’m right here and I swear that I will never let anyone touch you again.”

Closer together contractions pulled her attention away from him, as Alis hovered nearby monitoring every moment.

“Push, Feyre.” The old faerie urged.

She did and she screamed — the broken, terrible sound of a cracked soul slowly merged with the innocent cry of new life.

A baby boy — Tamlin felt his heart drop into his stomach. He’d only just shifted him. What would he look like?

Alis placed a healthy baby on his mate’s chest. The small Illyrian was bright pink. Thankdully, gis eyes weren’t purple. They were gray. He looked almost entirely like a mini Feyre. Only, his mother was brunette and his true father was raven haired, so why did this baby have soft…blonde…curls?

“By the cauldron.”

His shifting was just what Feyre needed in order to bond with her child. She looked at Tamlin — and then her son.

I did the right thing. Someday, they would explain. This was never going to be his own child, but he was not about to give up a single moment of being a father.

“His name?” Tamlin whispered, hoarse.

“Nyx.” Feyre mumbled, closing her eyes. “I focused on one star to bring me home to you. My lucky Nyx.”

Nyx. Tamlin crawled up on the bed, sheltering his sudden, found family in his arms. Welcome home.

[bunnyboy-whumpee]

Reasons why you should buy a pet of the same breed as Osheen:

They're super cute and obedient, perfect to have at home, they can follow complex instructions and perform all kinds of tasks.

They come in a variety of sizes and colors, you can ask for any specific features and there Will most likely be a pet that fits your preferences.

They are pocket sized! Most of them are 150 to 165 cm tall, unlike most humans, they stop growing pretty early in life.

They have a longer lifespan than the average house pet.

They reproduce really fast and can have litters of Up to 6 pups. They can also be breed with other pets and even with their owners so be careful.

Their youthful appearance and soft manerisms make them perfect to be used as nannies or to entetain guests. They can also be hidden at plain sight, given that they are humans bred only for the purpose of being pets.

[i-eat-worlds]

Things That Shouldn’t Happen In A Closet

so uh….this exists now. It’s long. I didn’t think it’d be this long. I might’ve made a mistake. Anyway hope you enjoy

Content: Explicit, graphic birth scene, probably inaccurate onset of labor, emotional whump, angst, medic caretaker, hostage situations, pregnancy whump, whump of a minor (does being born count as whump?), anxiety and panic attacks, feces mention

Joseph scanned HAL’s always busy medbay, looking around for the charge nurse that was on duty today. It was odd that they weren’t out and about, and so he turned down the left hallway, past the breakroom and towards the bank of offices and closets that were further away.

He found her coming out of a bathroom, putting his hand up to wave her over. “Hey Tori.” He handed her the clipboard, probably an all too familiar action. “Are you on today? I thought you were on maternity leave.”

Tori quickly signed the papers. “I was supposed to be, but half the day shift called out today, and they couldn’t cover it.” She started to walk back towards the heart of the medbay. “Are you saying I’m incapable of doing my job because I’m pregnant, Joseph?”

“No, no nothing like that.” He trailed several steps behind her.

“Good.” She handed the clipboard back to him, face cringing in pain. “Word of warning: do not eat the cafeteria meatloaf. You will not be rewarded for your bravery.”

“Noted.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first.

“And no, Dr. Thomas is not working today.”

His face felt hot for some reason, but he was quickly distracted by the sound of a voice over the PA. “Code Purple on 4.”

“Fuck.” Tori’s steps immediately picked up, breaking into a light jog. Code Purple meant that a villain had escaped from the specialized ward up on the fourth floor. They were to evacuate who they could, and lock down everything else.

Joseph followed her down the hallway, running back towards the medbay’s central hub. Far in front of them, they saw several figures. Before Joseph could yell at them to run or hide, a bright green bolt of energy flew down the hallway.

His instincts kicked in, and he quickly shoved Tori into a side hallway, body placed protectively in front of hers. The blast blew past them, metal clattering as it hit something out of sight. Tori looked up at him, eyes wide and panicked, as he dragged her into an open room. As quietly as he could, he pulled the door shut behind them, and locked it.

“Get down,” he mouthed, retreating into the darkness of the shelves. They were stocked with office supplies, a giant box of paper blocking his view of the door. Tori squatted carefully, holding her breath.

Heavy footsteps stomped down the hallway, coming to a stop outside the door. The handle jiggled a little, starting to twist. Did it not lock?

There was a dramatic sigh from the other side, and then a harsh “it’s locked, idiot.” The figures moved away, charging after something or someone else.

Tori let out a breath as she sat down. “Okay, what the fuck?” Her voice shook a little.

Joseph was quiet, unsure what to say, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “They’re probably trying to escape,” he rationalized. “We’ll wait here until the clear announcement.”

“Yeah.” She leaned back against the wall, hand wrapped around her belly. “God, this is not what I needed today.”

Suddenly, her face twisted with pain, a quiet grunt forcing its way out from her lips. He leaned forward, eyes ickering over her. “You alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just-” she scrubbed the back of her neck. “-a Braxton-Hicks. It’s fine.”

Before he could open his mouth to respond, the PA cracked. They both looked up expectantly, listening for the news.

“Hello, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone-elses of HAL.” The voice was sinister, deep like the one in the hallway. But, Joseph thought grimly, at least it was inclusive? “I’m going to not prolong this more than I have too. Me and several compatriots have seized control of your medbay, and everyone inside. The doors are locked and barricaded. No one will get in or out without us knowing. Our demands are simple. Ten grand for each of us, a helicopter, and a pardon, one for each of us.” There was a pause. “Failure to capitulate will result in harm rendered to the hostages. You have three hours to get it sorted.”

The PA faded away, leaving the closet in an oppressive silence. Tori’s eyes met his, shimmering with fear. “What do we do?” She whispered.

“We stay put,” he kept the nervousness from edging into his tone. “They haven’t found us yet, and they’re surrounded by almost every single superhero in the city. I don’t think it's going to be a long term affair.”

“Yeah. It’s a stupid plan.” Her voice wobbled, and Joseph could see her breathing starting to quicken. “It’ll be alright.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He pressed his hands into the cold floor tile. An awkward silence passed between them, the stale atmosphere of the janitorial closet not doing the conversation any favors. The seconds on his watch ticked up, counting up as the minutes passed. Tori doubled over again, and another curse dropped from her lips.

“Oooh, ahhh that’s great,” she said through gritted teeth. “That is just bloody wonderful.”

“Another Braxton-Hicks?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

A beat of silence passed, and then there was the loud crash of something being knocked over. Both Tori and Joseph clammed up, listening as a cacophony of steps thundered down the hallway. The door handle started to rattle, but neither of them moved to open up.

There was a scream, and then the sound of a body hitting the oor. Tori’s mouth popped open, and Joseph stiened. Several minutes passed, slow like molasses. A sickening feeling somersaulted in his gut as the PA clicked on.

“Dear HAL,” It was the same voice as before, though now the tone was tinted with rage. “Don't think we wouldn’t nd the brat of a sidekick you sent in to spy on us. It will be harder than that to displace us. You now have an hour and a half to meet our demands. Do try to be timely.”

The system clicked off, and Tori's panicked eyes met his. “We should turn ourselves in.”

He shook his head. “No-”

“That person is probably hurt, Joseph.” Her face tightened as another contraction rolled through her. “There could be others-they’re going to find us anyway.”

“No, Tori, no.” He scooted closer to her. “I know it's stressful, but we need to keep ourselves safe first, right?”

“Yeah,” a half-faked laugh fell from her lips. “Never did I think a day would come when I would let a frontliner lecture me about safety.”

“We’re not that bad.” He slouched again, glad that Tori seemed more relaxed.

“You’re that bad….” She suddenly trailed off, head looking down. The crotch of her scrub pants was soaked, and uid was pooling on the tile underneath her. “Joseph…” He saw it as she spoke it. “My water just broke.”

Oh fuck. He took a calming breath before responding, and an understanding passed between them. “What pregnancy is this?”

“Third. Third child, too.” Another contraction hit, but she kept talking. Joseph glanced at his watch. “My last two came pretty quick, too.”

“How quickly?”

“They said if I ever wanted to have a third child I should live as close to the hospital as I could for the last three weeks.” She sighed. “I don’t think this was what they meant.”

“Probably not, no.” Joseph, internally, also sighed. This was going to be a thing, and there was no avoiding it. “When are you due?”

“In a week or so.”

“Any complications?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Both were cephalic, no previa or anything, and both were vaginal. No diabetes, no preeclampsia either” Her hand was back on her neck again. “And I did the prenatal care, too.”

“Alright,” He slowly stood up. “Any allergies?”

“Sulfa.” Her eyes followed him as he moved around the closet. “What’re you looking for?”

“Towels, or anything in that genre. Among other things.” So far though, he’d only found lots of paper, pens, and clipboards. “Do you take any medications?”

“Nope,” she tilted her head. “This is really the wrong closet for that.”

He should’ve picked a better closet for them to hide in.“When did you-”

“Five hours ago. It was the stupid meatloaf.” He tried to talk again, and she cut him off. “I’d check the EMS storage down the hall and to the left.”

They were both quiet for a moment. “Tori, I don’t think…”

“This baby is happening, Joseph. And it’s going to be sooner rather than later.” A high pitched hiss escaped her lips, and he checked his watch again. Five minutes, roughly. “It’s going to be what…a ten minute trip at most. I’ll be fine on my own. Just follow the signs to the ambulance bay. I know you’ve stolen from it before.”

Joseph breathed, eyes flickering towards the door. “Alright. Keep the lights off and stay low. If, heaven forbid, something happens and you are caught, you do not sacrifice yourself for me.” There was something dangerous and deadly serious in his eyes. “Do you understand?

“Yes.” She swallowed, but held his gaze, watching as he turned towards the door and pressed his ear to it.

His hand reached down and worked the lock. “See you in a bit.”

After cracking it to double check that no one was coming, he pushed it open and slid out into the hallway. Tori watched him exit, the door closing softly behind him with a little click.

It was eerily quiet as he snuck down the hallway, keeping his body close to the wall. He was hyperaware, listening for the thud of a boot or the whisper of a voice. The emptiness bothered him, all of the staff and patients having either been evacuated or captured.

He carefully stepped over an overturned cart, avoiding the sterile packaged equipment that was spilled over the floor. Blood flecked the wall, and he did his best to rein in his thoughts as he walked past. It was smeared on the floor as well, painting a grim picture of what had happened.

While it was awful, he forced himself to move on. He had someone else to take care of. After, if he had a chance, he’d make sure they were alright.

Before he turned the corner, his eyes foickered up to the mirror to make sure the coast was clear. This hallway was just as empty and unsettling as the last one had been, the side entrance to the ambulance garage all the way down at the far end.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck raised. On blind instinct, he dove into the closet, hoping it was the right one. A blast of energy hurled down the hall behind him, and crossed his fingers as footsteps followed.

“Did you even see anything?” Someone said, their voice frustrated.

There was a beat of silence. “I thought I saw someone walking! I mean it this time.” Another pause. “I promise.”

“Fine,” they grumbled. “I’ll wait here. Go check it out.”

As the steps drew closer, it became harder to breathe. When he’d hidden, he hadn’t locked the door. The closet was tiny, and he didn’t really have a place to go. There was nothing to protect him.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to push down the acid that rose up his throat. Silence was his only option, because luck wouldn’t save him. It had intervened twice today, and he doubted it would happen again.

The door creaked, and Joseph’s heart uttered as he realized they were leaning against it. There wasn’t anything he could do but wait.

Until they left, he was stuck.

*** Tori flinched at the sound of another energy blast being sent hurling down the hallway. She crossed her fingers, hoping that Joseph hadn’t been found yet. The deep pit in her gut made her doubt that, and the dread that thought caused was almost unbearable.

Joseph had told her, in no uncertain terms, to sell him out. Despite the instruction, she knew he wouldn't be doing the same to her. Did they know she was missing? Would they hurt him because of her? Would they hurt him anyway?

Another cramp rolled through her, reminding her of the other issue. She was in labor. In a fucking closet, in a hospital crawling with escaped villain, and the one person who could’ve helped her had probably been captured.

Or worse.

The confines of the closet seemed to be closing in on her, and it was difficult to breathe. Every neuron in her body was screaming, and it was just too much. She lowered herself down to the oor, letting the cold tile press into her back.

It was grounding, though her heart was still thundering in her chest. If she had to do this on her own, could she? What if something went wrong? There was no way she’d be able to deal with that, with any of it.

The tears welled up, and she let them come, as quietly as she could. They rolled off the sides of her face, dropping onto the floor. She laid there, for who knew how long, grieving the future.

Her ears twitched when she heard a voice coming down the hallway. Well, it was a pair of voices, walking down the hallway.

She gasped, trying to keep quiet even as she continued to cry. The steps moved impossibly slow, taking forever to pass. They stood still, and if they were talking, she couldn't tell. The only noise she would hear was the ringing in her ears.

Eventually they left, but she couldn't get herself to calm down. No matter what she tried, the panic would go away. It was like she’d been torn asunder and tossed out to sea. She couldn’t nd a way this would turn out well, a way this wasn’t horrible and awful. The thoughts rose in her like a crescendo, like a river overflowing its banks.

And then they stopped.

The closet was too dark for her to notice the black spots that had been slowly clouding her vision, and all she was left with was a dizzy lurch and the burning feeling that she should’ve been laying on her side.

Her eyes slid closed, and she dropped into unconsciousness.

*** Every second Joseph spent inside the closet was torture.

It was like watching sand slowly drop from an hourglass, one painful grain at a time. The painted over brick was grating on his back, and an ancient backboard was propped up on the wall next to him. Someone had done a piss-poor job cleaning blood off the handle.

He spent a lot of time studying that stain, looking at the crusty, rusty brown marks. Henle would’ve crucified him for that, and Jenn too.

It was funny, and then it wasn’t funny at all.

He had been stuck in this stupid closet for far too long. He needed to get back Tori, make sure she was still doing alright. Not be stuck trying to not breathe too loud because the villains were still outside.

The person leaning against the door had started whistling. It was incessant, the same seven notes over and over again.

“Could you stop that?” The other person snapped.

“Then hurry up. Boss is gonna want us back soon.” They pushed off the door.

There was a long tired sigh. “Ugh. Fine. I did actually see someone, though.”

“Sure.”

The both of them started to walk away, and Joseph could finally breathe again. He waited for another very long minute to make sure that they’d actually left, and then he shifted forward.

It’d been ages since he’d last been in here, but the obstetrics kit was easy enough to find. They were shoved in the far corner, on the bottom shelf, but they were there. Maybe HAL couldn’t clean a backboard, but they could organize a closet. He swiped up a few extra pairs of gloves, since five bucks said the pair inside the pack were mediums and wouldn’t t anyway, and an infant BMV, heaven forbid, then steeled himself for the journey back.

Holding the supplies close to his chest, he peeked his head out the door. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he stepped out into the hallway. It had kept its odd, unnatural quiet, and he moved through it as quickly as he could.

Finally, he arrived back at their original hiding spot, quickly creaking the door open and sliding back inside. His gaze was attached to the oor as he set the supplies down. “Tori, I’m back….”

She was laying on her back, head lolled to the side, body slack.

“Tori?” He dropped to his knees beside her, watching her face for any sign of movement. “Tori, are you with me?”

Nothing.

His eyes moved over her, watching her chest rise and fall, a little slower than he would’ve liked. He slid his fingers under her jaw, then set about getting her on her left side.

It took a few minutes for her to stir again, and it appeared that it was a contraction that finally woke her. She grunted in pain as she pulled her eyes open, naked fear ashing across her face. “Joseph?”

He nodded, quickly starting to reassess her. “Yeah?”

There was a pause while she waited for the contraction to lessen enough for her to speak. “I was-I thought-” she stopped herself, but not the sob that fell out instead of words. “I’m sorry, I-” Her hand scrubbed at her face. “-should’ve been on my side.”

“It’s alright,” he scooted back to give her some space. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

She groaned as she sat properly again, folding her legs up. “It’s alright.”

It was obvious that she was stressed. Her eyes were still red and puffy, and her shoulders were tense. Whenever she spoke, her voice was shaky, and Joseph could tell she was straining to hold it together.

Tori opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. “I thought you-” Another contraction ripped through her, yanking the words out of her mouth before she could say them. Her eyes opened wide as she tried to stay quiet, hissing through her teeth. “Joseph, the baby is coming. I need to push!”

He shifted forward, reaching across the cramped room for his gloves. “So, we’ve reached the point where I would like to take a look. Is that alright?”

“Yes.” She nodded, reaching for her waistband, hands still shaking. Slowly, she wiggled them off, casting them off to the side in a pile, then leaned her back against the wall and opened her legs.

“I’m not going to touch, I’m just going to look, yeah?” He scooted closer so he could see better. The closet’s lighting was dim, but he could still make out the pinkish, stringy bloody show.

Her face twisted as another contraction started, hung and pung as she tried not to scream. A portion of the baby’s scalp appeared, then vanished as it faded away. Soon’s time was over. This baby was coming now.

“I’m going to get set up, alright?” He reached back for the obstetrics pack, starting to unfold it between her legs.

A beat of silence based, and then she spoke up again. “You should give me your belt.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to scream…and have them find us because of that.”

He nodded, the inherent misery of the idea picking at him. “Yeah.”

The buckle clicked as he removed it, then handed it to her. She folded the woven fabric over itself several times, hands still shaking. Joseph pushed away the pressure weighing on his chest, focusing on the task at hand. He pulled on the flimsy plastic apron and changed to the sterile gloves, then placed two towels on her belly and another under her hips.

Another contraction began, and she shoved the wadded-up belt in her mouth to keep herself from screaming. The top of the baby’s head emerged again, Tori’s face twisting into a grimace. The head didn’t disappear this time. “You’re crowning now.” She nodded in understanding. “I’m going to touch, alright?”

He placed one hand on the baby’s head and one underneath, pressing a sponge over her anus. “Keep breathing, and push when you need to.”

Her breathing was quick, hands grasping at the tile. She beared down again, eyes starting to water as more of the head emerged. A thick, brown substance soaked the sponge, and Joseph saw her roll her eyes. She murmured an apology through the belt.

“You’re alright, it happens all the time.” He quickly covered it with another towel, then went back to supporting the head.

Tears started to well in her eyes as she continued to push the head out. Slowly, she made progress, ears and then the forehead, followed by the eyes. Joseph kept the head supported, doing his best to keep Tori calm.

A long, pained grunt fell from her lips, and finally, the head fully emerged. He quickly wiped the blood and fluid away, then suctioned, mouth first to prevent aspiration. Tori was sniing, eyes red as she heaved air in. “You’re doing great.”

His fingers circled the baby’s neck, checking for entanglement. He kept his face carefully neutral when he felt it, but was relieved to nd that it wasn’t tight enough to be of current concern. “That’s the head, we’re nearly there.”

Tori’s face hardened, and she pushed again, the baby rotating so their shoulders could follow. The upper shoulder slipped out without much trouble, and then he guided them upward so that the bottom one could come out after.

They were covered in blood and cheese-like vernix, and Joseph kept a careful grip on their slippery body. Compared to the head and the shoulders, the rest of them delivered quickly.

She spit the belt out of her mouth. “How is she?” Sweat was dripping down her forehead, exhaustion evident in her face.

There was a painfully long few seconds, and then the baby started to breathe. They started to cry, wailing like a siren, and Joseph’s heart dropped. Any advantage they’d had from silence had just vanished. “Do they have a name?”

“Patricia.” She smiled, watching as Joseph quickly cleaned and dried them.

He looked up at her, quiet for a moment, hands still busy. “That’s a good name.”

Patricia kept crying as he checked her over, running a hand along the cord and feeling that it was still pulsating. They’d pinked up considerably in the small amount of time after delivery, only there hands and feet still tinged blue. He pressed his fingers into the inside of their arm, pleased to find a rabbit-fast heartbeat.

Her eyes moved to meet his, expression grim. “They’re going to find us.”

The cord stopped pulsing, and he reached for the clamps. “Tori-”

“Take her. Run. I’ll only slow you down.” She looked down at Patricia, listening to the shrieks of her baby.

“I’m not going to abandon you, Tori.” He cut the cord, leaving the proximal clamp on before swadling them in a blanket.

“Joseph, please.” She took the baby from him, holding them against her chest. “I just need her to be okay.”

Something struck at his heart. “I know. I know.” His eyes watered, but he fought it back. “But it's my job to make sure you both are okay, alright? Your placenta still needs to deliver and I’m not going to leave you alone for that.”

“No, no, no,” She pushed up her scrub top so that the baby could feed, hoping it would make them quiet down. “You have to go.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut o by a loud crackle of power outside in the hallway. They both flinched, Tori’s arms curling around Patricia tighter.

There was a cacophony of shouts and pounding feet. “Joseph, you need to. You have to.” She pushed Patricia towards him, expression grieving. “Please. Please.”

“No, Tori.” He shook his head. “Right now, it’s safest for us to stay here and hide, alright?”

Before she could beg again, the door blew open, flying backwards and slamming into the wall. Tori screamed, pressing the baby to her chest and encircling them with her arms. With little regard for his own safety, Joseph threw himself in front of the two, blood-soaked glove-covered fits raised, ready for a fight.

He did a double take when he realized who it was.

HAL heroes flooded into the room, medics stepping up and the rest of the room slowly emptying. Everything felt both too slow and too fast, like some sort of weird fever dream. The report fell numbly from his lips, and he too was guided away to be checked out.

His hands were sweaty and disgusting from the gloves, and they were still shaking. He felt unsteady on his legs, the exhaustion of the day nally setting in as the adrenaline ebbed. Everything felt distant and unreal, and he just wanted to go home.

They wouldn’t let him leave until after everyone had been processed and questioned, and so we had to awkwardly wait in the waiting room, holding his emotions steady. It was hard. He was so, so tired.

He fished for his phone, pulling it out and dialing one of the three numbers he had memorized. They picked up immediately.

“Hey Aaron…”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @snail-lamp @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch @rainbowsandwhumperflies

[whump-witch]

I feel like the whumpy potential of pregnancy and childbirth is really overlooked, so I decided to make a list of pregnancy-related whump scenarios!

Note: this list is about things that naturally happen during pregnancy/birth, including medical complications, but does not contain anything relating to violence against a pregnant person (I...am making another post for that because I got inspired).

The whumpee's vision starts to blur as their blood pressure drops. Something feels off in their breathing. They can breathe, it's just not quite right. Their head starts to spin and suddenly they're falling until they wake up on the ground.

The very thought of a food the whumpee normally loves makes them feel sick to their stomach. So sick they feel like they might never eat again.

The whumpee sighing in relief as they finally sit down, lifting the extra weight and pressure off their knees and hips and back.

The whumpee tossing and turning all night because they just can't find a comfortable position. Their eyes aching with tiredness the following day, a dull headache forming as they get more and more desperate to crawl into bed and sleep.

The whumpee, in labor, delirious from blood loss and frantically asking what's wrong as they're rushed into an OR.

Emergency! field medicine! C-section!

[somnus-in-law]

[continued]

He knows he's been caught. Ranpo knew the moment he entered that clinic that the doctor who ran it wasn't as dumb as every other adult, not as smart as him of course but smart enough to uncover the truth behind his sudden pregnancy.

It took a long time to convince the President that he wanted their relationship, that he wanted him. He had to break him down with good behavior, sweet words, and if he could get away with it, chaste kisses to any part of the man within access.

Once Yukichi had given in, Ranpo only needed to bide his time.

He only did what he did because he was scared, he would reason with himself every night, this was the only way to make sure that the President would never leave him. Yukichi would take responsibility for what he did, what he turned Ranpo into.

"I have an idea of what you did but Fukuzawa-dono deserves to hear it from your lips."

"I.. I put a hole.."

"you..?," Yukichi stumbles, pulling the doctor with him.

Ranpo hunches further, face covered in shadows. Shame. He is the perfect picture of shame.

Mori sighs. He isn't a stranger to these types, humans that would do anything to chain someone else to them.

"Lay down on the cot, Ranpo-kun," the doctor directs the teen, "I'll return Fukuzawa-dono to you in just a moment."

The boy nods as the President is dragged by his arm out of the room, the man's face stuck in disbelief.

He only did what he had to do. This was the only way.

He repeats those broken words to himself in an attempt to drown out the two men's argument down the hall, the door doing its best to muffle their words.

it was the only way.

[full-of-crumbs]

Poor ugly thing 😔

[kana7o]

May Sketches!

[abhainnwhump]

My fanfic taste be like:

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions; Unplanned Pregnancy; Reader is a Mom Note: Written for day 12 of @whumpthemusical's event for "Unplanned Pregnancy" from Waitress. Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey Garcia always expected the greatest honor of his career would be when he was accepted into Top Gun. However, he never imagined he would be chosen to return as one of the best of the best a few years later. Yet he had done it! Selected along with his pilot and close friend, Payback, as one of the few to train for a top-secret mission. It was a dream come true.

He met most of the other aviators the night before at the Hard Deck, and with one possible exception, everyone seemed very nice and supportive. Then, after the debriefing this morning, he was excited—if a little nervous—about the next few weeks of training. He still can’t believe he was selected as a potential member of the mission. He doesn’t have high expectations for being chosen, but he is still going to try his very best.

After running back out to his car to grab some paperwork, he’s heading for the row of hangars so he can meet Payback to prep their plane for their first practice, a wide grin spread across his face. The fact he is about to fly in a training dogfight with Maverick—the Maverick—still feels like a dream to him. It feels like he’s being trained by Han Solo or Captain Kirk! He is a legend that other legends look up to and Mickey had never imagined he would get an opportunity like this. Could this day get any better?

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

As he reaches the tarmac, Mickey suddenly stumbles to a stop and his face drops as he catches sight of the ghost from his past standing in the way, almost as if waiting for him. But it’s impossible. He double-checked the roster ten times just to make sure there was no chance you were going to be here. 

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. 

“Falcon…” 

You worry your lip between your teeth just like you used to when you got nervous or were deep in thought, but your eyes shine brightly when your callsign slipped from his lips. “Hey there, Fanboy.” 

Oh, God… that voice. Instantly, a thousand memories flash through Mickey’s mind: the first time he laid eyes on you at boot camp with your brilliant smile and Death Star tattoo; flying with you as his pilot, and how he instantly knew he never wanted to fly with anyone else; you dubbing him Fanboy after seeing him nearly burst into tears after running into William Shatner in a coffee shop and him naming you Falcon after the iconic Star Wars ship; all the stolen, secret moments and rendezvous as your friendship blossomed into something deeper despite the risk of Command finding out; the morning he found your letter left on his bunk saying you had transferred and had already left without a warning or a goodbye.

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“I work here. I’ve been an instructor at Top Gun for the past two years.” Your leg is bouncing slightly and you keep clenching and unclenching your hands. “I guess you were in the class the year before I started, but I was so proud when I heard you made it. Of course, I always knew you could.”

Instructors. Mickey groans softly to himself. He had been so focused on what other aviators  had been recruited for the mission it never crossed his mind to check who the instructors would be. But it’s too late to do anything about it now. 

“So, does that mean you’ll be teaching me?” It’s hard enough seeing you standing before him. But if he has to see you on a daily basis, listen to your lessons, follow your orders…there is no way he’ll make it the next three weeks.

Luckily, you shake your head. “No, it’s all top secret and I don’t have the clearance. I’m not even sure what your mission is. All they’ve told us is that they need the best of the best in the hopes of completing it, so I wasn’t surprised to see your name on the list. I never flew better than with you in my backseat.”

Mickey silently sighs in relief before he jams his hands in his pockets and coldly asks, “If you don’t have anything to do with my mission, what do you want, Falcon? After you disappeared for almost six years, I don’t really have anything I want to say to you. I think it’s better if we keep things the way you wanted it and just pretend the other doesn’t exist.” 

He starts to walk around you, but you step in front of him, holding up your hand to block his retreat. “Is that really what you think I did? Left and never gave you another thought? Because you’re wrong. I think about you every single day, Mickey. And I haven’t been able to get into a plane without you in my head. No matter who I’m flying with, your voice is in my headset giving me directions, or doing systems checks, or failing to stump me with random trivia about another movie or tv show just like it used to be.” You take a deep breath as you let your hand drop to your side. “But maybe if I didn’t care, it would make all of this easier. I–”

You are close to tears as your voice trembles with every word, but Mickey is having none of it. “No! Uh uh. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you’re the one who was hurt here,” he says, jamming his finger accusingly at you. “You’re the one who put in for a transfer without even talking to me about it first, so don’t act like you’re the victim. One day, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, flying with the woman I love at the stick, and the next, I wake up to a note telling me you’d left to fly with another unit. No explanation. No nothing. I never even got to say goodbye! You just disappeared from my life and you took my heart with you. But you never gave a shit.”

“Yes, I did! I swear!” Tears now begin to flow freely down your cheeks. You try to close the distance between you, but when Mickey steps back, you stop. Clutching your arms across your chest, you beg, “Mickey, I loved you. If there had been another way, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to stay with you but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?” 

“Command. They heard from a few different people that we were ‘fraternizing’ outside of our duties. That we had started sleeping together a few months earlier and that it had evolved into an actual relationship.”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

Smiling warmly at him, you say, “I never doubted that. And just so you know, I didn’t either. But someone must have found some sort of evidence and turned us in. I tried to find out who, but I never had any luck. All I know is I got called into the discipline office and they said they were starting an investigation into our alleged relationship and if it were true…” 

You take a deep breath as your arms tighten around your chest. “I knew if they went looking, they’d find out about us so I did the only thing I could think of to save our careers. I told them it wasn’t true but if they were still concerned, I would voluntarily opt for a different WSO or even transfer to another unit if that would clear things up. And they took me up on my offer.”

Missing pieces of Mickey’s past suddenly start to click into place. While it was against regulation for pilots and their backseaters to “fraternize” with any kind of romantic or sexual relationship, the rule was hardly ever enforced. However, around the time you disappeared, a pilot in another unit almost botched a mission saving his injured WSO instead of carrying out his assignment. When it was discovered they were in a romantic relationship at the time, Command began taking the regulation very seriously. Mickey recalls the two of you even had a nervous conversation about it at one point but just agreed to be more discreet while on base. 

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“But why did you do it? Some anonymous jerk claims we were dating and that’s it? We could have fought it. If you had told me what was going on, we could have both denied everything and there was no way they could prove it.”

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

All the air is sucked from Mickey’s lungs. He feels like he’s doing barrel rolls in his jet as the world spins around him and an immense pressure weighs on his chest. “You… you were… what?”

You nod gently. “I had only found out a few days before and I was trying to figure out how to tell you. But then the investigation was brought up and it changed everything. All they had was the word of someone else we were dating, but if they knew I was pregnant with your baby, well, that’s pretty solid evidence. I didn’t know if you wanted kids. Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. So, I didn’t say anything and they transferred me two days later.”

“How could you not tell me?” Mickey whispers, trying to wrap his head around this life-changing revelation. “I would have been by your side for every minute. We could have figured it out together, we could have found a way to make it work. But even if we couldn’t, I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. And if that meant giving up everything else, I would have done it.”

“I know you would have. And that’s why I couldn’t say anything.” You take a few steps towards him. This time, Mickey doesn’t move back, but you still keep a little space between you so you don’t overwhelm him. “I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t let me leave and it would be the end of both our careers. We’d both worked so hard to get where we were, I couldn’t let you throw everything away for a kid I still didn’t know if I even wanted. And by the time I had decided, it was too late to change what I’d done. So, when I reported to Command I was pregnant a few months later, I said it was from a nameless one-night stand I met at a bar right after I transferred.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…” 

It is the final straw. Stumbling over to the nearby wall, Mickey slides down it until he is sitting on the ground and rests his head on his knees. He has a son. A four- or five-year-old son that he never knew about. Someone who was already walking, and talking, and going to school. Who was his own person with his own personality and likes and dislikes. Who Mickey knows absolutely nothing about.

The two of you had never talked about whether you wanted kids or a family. Until the moment you disappeared, Mickey had never doubted you both loved each other deeply but your relationship had been too complicated by rules and regulations to face what might happen in the future. So, the two of you had lived in the moment and tried to enjoy what time you had together instead of talking about the future. But that didn’t mean Mickey hadn’t thought about it. He had known from a young age he wanted to be a father. He helped take care of his younger siblings growing up and he couldn’t wait to have a family of his own. 

So to find out now that he has a child is simultaneously exhilarating and devastating. He could have had everything he had always dreamed of, but you had taken all those early milestones, all those precious irreplaceable moments with his son, and Mickey doesn’t know how to accept that. What if his son never forgives him for not being there? Mickey might not have known he even existed until a few moments ago, but that doesn’t change the fact his son has had to grow up not knowing what it was like to have a father. To have a void in his life where others around him had a loving, supportive presence. Will his son even want him in his life at this point?

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye. 

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Mickey raises his head to glare up at you, all of his swirling emotions finding a much-needed target to explode at. “Even if I accept why you let them transfer you or that you didn’t tell me right then, why didn’t you tell me at any point during the last five years! Is it just because I’m here? If I hadn’t come back to Top Gun, would you ever have told me?”

You open your mouth to respond but then close it again as you try to find the best way to answer. “Those are all fair questions. I figured if I told you while I was still pregnant or right after I gave birth, we would still get in trouble. My superiors weren’t happy that I had just transferred to fly with one of their WSOs and this happened but they had to accept it. I flew for another month or two but then I was placed on desk duty until I got this job at Top Gun. I hated being grounded but at least I was someplace consistent where I could go home to my family every night.”

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

You seem confused for a moment but as soon as you realize what he is asking, you quickly clarify, “Oh, no, no, no! Nothing like that. My mom moved in a month before I gave birth and stayed so she could watch the kiddo while I was at work.” You duck your head to stare at the ground as you mutter, “But no, there, uh, there hasn’t been anyone like that since you. I’ve got one little man who has my whole heart, and between him and work, I don’t have the time or the energy to spend on anyone else.”

Mickey hates the way his heart warmed slightly at that. He should hate you right now, not be happy that you aren’t with someone. Quickly changing the topic before he lets himself dwell on that for too long, he says, “You still haven’t answered my question. Why now? Why are you telling me about him now?”

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“Well, not you specifically but he started asking about his dad. He doesn’t understand….” Your voice breaks as your lip begins to quiver. Mickey’s resolve wavers and he starts to reach for your hand but then he remembers the reason you are upset in the first place and lets his hand fall. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “He’s too young to understand and I’m too selfish to admit it’s my fault you’re not there, so I just told him his dad was a Naval aviator like me and he’s off protecting everyone from danger. I was hoping…I don’t know what I was hoping, but it didn’t satisfy him like I thought it would. Two weeks ago, he told me all he wants for his birthday next month is to meet his dad.”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

You nod. “And I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea where in the world you were, if you had your own family by now, or if you would even want to meet him once you knew. But then a few days ago I saw you were coming here and…it seemed like fate. I knew telling you would be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t go home and look into our son’s eyes if I didn’t at least try. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

“So this is just a way for you to clear your conscience?” Mickey asks. “You finally tell me I have a son, and that’s supposed to absolve you of everything? You took nearly five years I could have had with him away from me! I missed out on so many firsts!” Mickey suddenly freezes, all the anger evaporating in an instant as a sober realization sets in. “I still don’t even know his name….”

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.” 

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

You smile at the reverence on Mickey’s face. “It was the only name I ever considered.” Pulling out your phone and tapping the screen a few times, you offer it to him. “It turns out it was perfect. He’s the spitting image of his namesake.”

With shaking hands, Mickey takes the phone from you. Looking down, he sees a little boy staring back at him with a wide grin that’s too big for his face, a mess of dark curly hair, and rich brown eyes that make Mickey feel like he is looking into a mirror. You weren’t far off. Miguel looks almost exactly like the baby photos Mickey had seen of himself at that age. However, he can also see traces of you in the toddler’s face; in the shape of his lips and the cut of his jaw. There’s no way to deny it any longer. This was his kid. Yours and his together. 

Watching the waves of emotions washing across his face, you murmur, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you…either of you. I just didn’t know what to do and then, once I made a decision, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. The longer I put it off, the more impossible it got to tell you. But you did nothing wrong and I just thought he should have another piece of you to carry with him, even if he doesn’t understand it yet.”

Mickey swipes his finger across the phone and the photo changes to one of you balancing Miguel on your hip as you point towards the camera. He looks younger here but the same joy is evident on his face as he clings to you with one arm and to a ratty-looking Spider-Man plush in the other. Another swipe shows Miguel blowing out a candle on a birthday cake shaped like a Stegosaurus. There is a big “4” balloon floating in the background next to a woman Mickey recognizes as your mother. He swipes again to see a picture of you fast asleep in a rocking chair with an infant Migual curled on your chest. He is so tiny that he could only have been a month or two old. You look disheveled and exhausted even in sleep, yet Mickey doesn’t think he can remember a time you were more breathtaking.

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply. 

There is a small framed drawing hanging on the wall just above Miguel’s crib. It’s of two stick people looking at each other with little hearts above their heads. He doubts a single other person would have ever noticed it, but he would recognize it anywhere. He had doodled it on a note he slipped you right after his friendship with you had developed into a romance. And you had kept it all of these years then hung it so it would watch over your son.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

“Okay, then yeah, of course you can,” you say eagerly as your face lights up. But then it dims slightly as you add, “But, um, I think it’s better if we wait just a few days.” Mickey starts to protest but you hold up your hand. “I know I’ve already made you wait far too long for this, but we need to figure out some things first and I’m sure once you’ve had time to process everything, you’ll have a million questions. I just want you to be as prepared for this as possible so you both feel comfortable. It’s a big deal and Miguel is the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet, but he is pretty shy around new people and I don’t want to just spring this on him without talking to him first.”

Mickey can’t help smiling to himself. He was the exact same way when he was little. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I already have a thousand questions and I’m sure by tomorrow, I’ll have a thousand more. How ‘bout we say Friday after training? I could come over or meet you guys somewhere or whatever you think is best.”

You hesitate for a minute. “I have an appointment Friday afternoon and I’m not sure how long it’ll last. Why don’t we do Saturday morning? We could meet for pancakes. That’ll definitely get you on Miguel’s good side.”

“Pancakes it is.” Mickey climbs to his feet and holds out your phone to you. But just as you are about to take it, he pulls it back slightly. “Um…do you think…could you send me some photos of Miguel?”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

You duck your head. “I couldn’t delete it. I stared at it countless nights with my finger hovering over the call button, but I always chickened out. However, I knew one day I’d find the strength to tell you everything, and when that happened, I’d need a way to contact you so I kept it. I’m still just so sorry it took me this long.”

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

“Yeah…” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself once again. “I felt like I was in my own personal Kobayashi Maru except no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out how to cheat the system.”

Oh God. The ease at which that perfect Star Trek metaphor slips from your lips once again has Mickey flashing back to all the little reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. However, after the secrets you revealed today, he can’t let himself fall back into what was. 

“That might be true, but another part of me doesn’t know if I can ever forgive you for stealing these last five years I could have had with my son.” He scrubs his hand over his closely buzzed hair. “Right now, I just don’t know how to feel about you or what you did. However, I do know that I can be pleasant and get along when we’re around Miguel, though I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back to a point where we’re friends again.”

You bob your head, tears dampening your eyes even as a small smile spreads across your face. “That’s fair. That’s more than fair. Honestly, I half expected you never to want to see me again after I told you, so I’ll take pleasant. Thank you, Mickey.”

He nods and holds out your phone. As you take it, your fingers brush against his and Mickey feels a jolt run up his arm as he touches you for the first time in almost six years. And based on the way your eyes widened, you felt it too. The two of you gaze at each other, your hands still both holding the phone between you. Mickey feels his heart start to race slightly in his chest, and he wonders if maybe he’s wrong and forgiving you won’t be as difficult as he thinks it is. 

But then you pull the phone from his hand and slip it into your pocket. Taking a few steps back, you mutter, “I’ll send you those pictures. And please do text me any questions you have this week. Otherwise, I’ll call you Friday to figure out the details for breakfast Saturday.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

For several minutes, Mickey continues to stare at where you had been standing, still half wondering if anything that just happened was real or not. He always knew returning to Top Gun would be life-changing, but he had never expected this in a million years. 

Still in a daze, he stumbles off towards the hangar where his plane is housed. As he approaches, he sees Payback already dressed in his flight suit and busy checking out the plane. He looks up when he hears Mickey approaching.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

“Yeah, guess I have.” Just then, Mickey’s phone vibrates and he pulls it out to see you have sent him a link to a folder filled with hundreds of pictures and videos of Miguel. Just a brief scan of them makes tears begin to well up in his eyes once more. But when he looks back up at Payback, the smile on his face is so wide it hurts. “But it’s all good. In fact… It’s never been better.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @blue-aconite, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @roosterforme, @clancycucumber230, @mamachasesmayhem, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777

[bunnyboy-whumpee]

Unfinished sketch for some AU i just came Up with

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖 "Medically Necessitated" Story Masterlist

Rated: Explicit Pairing: Bucky x Steve Tags: a/b/o, age gap, past rape, rape recovery, pregnancy, trauma recovery, medical trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions of CSA, religious fundamentalism, gender dysphoria Summary: After a medical emergency brings him into the ER, Bucky escapes the religious cult he's been raised in. It's up to Steve, nurse practitioner and omega sex & repro specialist, to see him through a medically supervised heat.

1. Jori 2. Jerrica 3. Bucky 4. Bucky - cont'd 5. Robert Wheeler 6. Fatimah 7. Bucky - cont'd 8. Connor 9. Rebecca 10. Bea

A.N. As per usual, I'm playing with age gap relationships and have thus made the in-universe age of majority 19 instead of 18, to avoid any antis getting their panties (ha! rhymes) in a twist and reporting me to the Tumblr police. Bucky is 18-19, Steve is 31.

Housekeeping:

Trigger Warning: This fic contains occasional mentions of Steve's patients, who deal with issues of csa, sa, abortion, ptsd, and other traumas. Bucky is in the immediate aftermath of a rape at the story's start.

[curiositysavesthecat]

Trigger warning: pregnancy, pregnancy-related issues and mention of rape

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[somnus-in-law]

Ranpo meets the man everyone thinks of as his father when he is fourteen. He bears that same man's child when he is fifteen.

Yukichi takes him to a back alley clinic. There he is introduced to a doctor named Mori Ougai.

"It's better for all of us if we just get rid of It," the doctor hisses, hand gripped on Yukichi's bicep. Even without Ultra Deduction, Ranpo can tell it will bruise.

"Ranpo-kun will decide what should be done with It."

It. Like it's some disease that Ranpo contracted. With the risks involved and the high probability of death, It might as well be.

"You'll let him decide. Yes, because that clearly turned out so well the first time."

There is a pregnant teenager in my clinic, you fool! He should have never had this choice in the first place!!!, Mori wants to shake and scream at the older man.

The other things he wants to do cannot be written here.

Yukichi stays silent like the coward he is.

"And what will you do when people ask. Someone always asks."

Yukichi's gaze lingers on Ranpo's hunched form, "..I had a short affair, nothing more."

"No one will believe you. The Lone Wolf who can't even have dinner with a client engaged in a casual fling? Please."

"You'll need something better."

His gaze turns from the teen to the doctor, eyes glazed over, pleading with him.

"..no. I won't do it, it's hard enough to run my clinic as I am. I can't let my secret get out."

Not when I'm so close.

"You, boy," Mori addresses Ranpo now, fed up with Yukichi's useless answers.

"You have two options: Get rid of the thing that is growing in your stomach, or carry it and hope neither of you die."

The doctor jabs his thumb at the bodyguard, "He is effectively useless when it comes to human needs. I'm sure his mind is equal parts silent and frantic."

"But I at least know he is not as stupid as I or others like to insinuate, so before you decide what your next step is: tell us what you did."

[full-of-crumbs]

This AU is not a happy story 🐛💅✨️

[kabie-whump]

i have this angel dust pregnancy whump fanfic idea locked and loaded i just need someone to say the word fr

I’m gonna be honest I’ve never seen this before but as someone with tokophobia I really think we as a community could make some great pregnancy whump.

Whumpee giving birth alone after having just escaped Whumper?

Whumpee fearing for their baby’s safety every time whumper comes to hurt them?

Whumpee asking Caretaker to choose saving the baby over them, or them over the baby, even if Caretaker wants to save them both?

Theres potential here.