#all day and then suddenly i had a headache that turned into the worst pain of my life within 5 minutes

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

00.3. your last day with quinn

➴ warnings: mention of a restrictive diet, constipation.

➴ word count: 1.7k

➴ author’s note: this was supposed to be a cute, hurt/comfort chapter but. i listened to madison beer while writing this so things took a turn and now it’s just depressing. at least there’s still some hurt/comfort here :,)

౨ৎ

2017, SEPTEMBER.

YOU were having the worst day ever.

It was a Friday, and one of those days where anything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. First, you woke up at half-past five with a fever that made your entire body shiver. Your pajama was glued to your body, sticky with sweat. You sat on the bed, immediately regretting it because your head started spinning and suddenly you needed to throw up everything you’d eaten for dinner last night.

You felt like shit even when you managed to shower, sitting on your bathtub and letting the tears fall from your face. You felt so tired. It had already been a very stressful week, with your Mom forcing you to attend castings and auditions, making calls here and there so you could get the jobs she wanted for you, controlling everything you ate and drank.

On top of all of that, Peter and Quinn were leaving for college and you were sure you had never felt so alone before.

Quinn became your favorite person in the entire world when you both met four years ago. He was so important to you, and even though sometimes your heart didn’t understand what exact feelings you had for him, you needed him in your life.

The friendship you’d built over the past four years meant the world to you. How he took care of you, and how he tried to balance his career with still trying to be present in your life. How he would always ask about how you were doing in school, or about your dreams and wants. How he had introduced you to his family and how Jim and Ellen were nice to you, letting you come over to do your homework with Jack or Luke.

How sometimes you’d find Quinn practicing in their homemade ice rink, and you’d watch him for hours, impressed by his moves and skills. How sometimes you’d notice his hair falling out of the helmet, the sweat decorating his face and his blue, greenish eyes that would stare at nothing but the puck.

So when you found out he was leaving for Michigan? It hurt more than anything else, even if you were extremely happy for him.

You got out of the shower, feeling your body hurt everywhere. You were thankful that your classes didn’t start until next week and you didn’t have any auditions today so you could just jump right back in your bed.

Which was exactly what you did, sleeping like the dead after letting your tears fall for a bit more.

You woke up a few hours later, with a soft touch on your arm. Opening your eyes and immediately feeling them getting wet, you saw Quinn standing beside your bed.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he said, smiling. “Maria let me in. You didn’t come say goodbye to me.”

Your sick, tired brain took a little while to process what he was saying. Until you looked at the digital clock that sat on your bedside table, reading 11:34 a.m., Friday, 6 September.

Fuck.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You were still shivering underneath the covers and your throat hurt.

“Maddie?” You could see he had stopped smiling.

You tried to smile, feeling the need to reassure him. “I’m sorry. I forgot to set an alarm,” you lied, trying to get up again and, thankfully, succeeding this time. “I’ll be downstairs in just a minute. Sorry.”

Getting up didn’t exactly mean success, since your legs failed after five steps and now you were on the floor, with your knee hurting like a bitch.

“Maddie, what,” Quinn said, quickly coming to your rescue, like he often did. You had a headache? Quinn had the right medicine for it. You hurt your finger? Quinn wrapped your hand with a bandage. You were hungry? Quinn was already in the kitchen making your meal. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“No, just— I just woke up.” You didn’t know why you kept lying to him and you felt like shit, but it was his leaving day. The Hughes were moving back to the US, so that Jack and Luke could join the NTDP in Michigan and Quinn could go to UMich. And it couldn’t get worse, not really. “I’m fine.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Madison,” he hissed, angrily. You frowned. Quinn had never gotten angry at you, not even when you managed to ruin his hockey uniform with glitter. “You’re sick. Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, as he walked you to bed again. “I am fine, Quinn. It’s just constipation or whatever.”

“Stop acting like this is nothing, Madison.”

“Stop calling me that,” you frowned, annoyed for no real reason. You were going to miss them so much.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whispered, feeling your eyes tearing up again, the fever making you shiver.

He stopped scowling for a second, softening his eyes at you. He sat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh, which you promptly grabbed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s just— I hate when you act like what happens to you isn’t important.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling less cold now.

“You’re like my little sister, so watching you sick is just as upsetting as it is with Lukey or Jack,” he chuckled, laughing like he hadn’t just shattered your feelings right there.

You didn’t know exactly what you felt for him, but you knew for a fact it wasn’t that silly admiration you had for him when you were little. You were fifteen now, and just when you were supposed to crush on the boys at your school, you were always comparing them to Quinn instead. And Quinn is always better than them.

Not to mention that he’d been getting cuter. He was losing his teenager features and it didn’t help it with your little infatuation for him.

Hearing him confirming that you were nothing but a family member to him stung. This was definitely the worst day of your life.

“Right,” you whispered, releasing his hand and wrapping your arms around your body. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go downstairs and say bye to you all. I’m sorry for that.”

“We’re only leaving at night so don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re feeling better until then.” He replied, getting up.

“Where are you going?” You asked, confusion taking over your face.

“I’m gonna ask Maria to make some soup for you while I go look for some cold medicine,” he put his hands inside his jeans pockets, something he did often, and smiled at you. “Do you think you’ll be fine here for ten minutes?”

You nodded, watching as he poked your cheek before leaving your room.

You laid down for a while, trying to organize your thoughts. You still didn’t understand what the Hughes leaving meant to you, only that you’d miss them like they were your own. Because for a while, that’s what they were.

You must have snoozed again because next thing you know, Quinn was shaking you lightly again. You opened your eyes, staring at him.

“Maria made you chicken noodle soup and I brought you juice and pills,” he pointed at the tray on your desk, smiling.

You got up, sitting up against the headboard, and thanking him as he placed the tray on your lap.

“Mom would probably kill me if she knew I’m eating noodles,” you joked, coughing loudly. Ugh.

“I won’t tell her a thing, promise,” he quickly said, sitting on the chair beside your desk, resting his hands on his knees, as he watched you eat. “Can’t believe we’re actually leaving.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You will come to visit us, right?”

You placed your spoon inside your bowl again, staring at Quinn’s face, trying to memorize all of his features at once. His upper lip, slightly thinner than his bottom one. His wavy, brown hair, messy and untamed, so beautifully shaped. His eyes, darker than Luke and Jack’s, but still bright and vibrant. His nose, big and cute and your favorite feature on his face.

Oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“‘Course I will,” you mumbled, shoving the last spoonful of soup into your mouth. Lying to Quinn always felt wrong. “I’m… I’m gonna miss you,” His eyes softened, and before he could speak, you continued. “You made my life so much easier. You and your family are so important to me so thank you.” You felt your eyes watering, and you looked up. No crying in front of anyone.

“Oh, Maddie,” he got up, removing the tray from your lap and putting it back on your desk, so he could sit beside you. “There’s no need for tears.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and tell him you’re okay but you only managed to let more tears fall from your eyes.

He placed your head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket until it reached your chin, covering you completely. Then, he gently grabbed your hand underneath and held it tightly.

“I’ll be only an one hour flight away, Maddie. Our house is your house too.”

You sniffled, feeling your body starting to hurt again.

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t want him to leave, that you needed him in your life and that you loved him. A young, unripe love that made your chest hurt every time you thought about it.

But you knew that you were just being selfish. Ever since you met him, you knew Hockey was his life. It is his favorite thing in the world, and it means a lot to them.

So you would never tell him anything. No. At least one of you deserved to be happy.

“I know,” you mumbled. “Can I take a nap?”

He chuckled beside you. “Yeah, ‘course. Not before you take your medicine though.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the rest of your face under the cover, hearing Quinn’s soft laugh.

Little did you know you’d keep that sound safe and secure in your heart, for the rest of your life.

[oflgtfol]

also worthy to note is that i didnt start getting auras until my 2017 migraine and ever since then i’ve gotten an aura every single time. of varying intensity of course but still there

[papercorgiworld]

I don't need space, I need you

Mattheo and Theodore fluff

Based on this request, please don't hate me for taking 29 days to post this rather average piece, but I had a lot of requests and not a lot of time. I hope you like it!

Finally I had time to write today! Big yey for me, people. I needed it and I'm so happy I wrote something today. 💛 Sending you lots of love and of course: happy readings!

A/N: I got some stuff going on in life so if I don't respond, I'm sorry. Just know that I love you. 💛

There was a request for a Draco and Enzo version: you can read it here

Mattheo

“Where’s my princess?” Mattheo sings as he enters the common room in search of you. “Not here, I would check the library.” Blaise states not looking up from his book. Mattheo nods and is about to turn around to head straight for the library, but Draco’s snickering stops him from doing so. “I bet you’re pleased to have a moment of peace.” Mattheo focuses on Draco, not completely getting where the blond's going with this. “I honestly pity you, man, must be so suffocating.” Suddenly all eyes are on Mattheo and not just his friends, the entire slytherin common room is curious to hear what the big bad boy has to say. Mattheo moves a nervous hand through his curls and chuckles. “Yeah, she’s a bit much with her hugs and cuddles, and urgh those constant questions to check on me. I’m lucky she studies so much, so I have a break from time to time.” Mattheo sits down opposite of Draco who grins and nods, fully believing that Mattheo feels saved by your absence. However, Mattheo felt miserable sitting there, knowing that he could be spending time with you.

Just like Mattheo was searching the castle for you, you had been searching for him and ended up checking the common room. With watery eyes you turn around, unnoticed by anyone, and leave the common room. He thinks I’m too much?

***

“Who is it?!” Mattheo yells as he pushes you against the wall of an empty hallway. He rarely raised his voice with you, but now his face was close to yours, his eyes dark and piercing yours. He looks more pained than angry, but you just look confused. To him it was obvious, you had fallen out of love with him and probably found someone else. There was plenty of proof:

A quick kiss on the lips and a wish of good luck before Tuesday's test was all Mattheo got, instead of the tight hug and intense kiss you would normally give him before a test. 

When you got your results back on Wednesday you jumped into Luna’s arms and just gave him a happy smile, while he was standing right there next to Luna. His heart ached to hold you and press you against his chest. Worse was when you asked Enzo about his test first and ended up discussing all the answers, barely giving your boyfriend any attention.

Thursday you went to sit next to Pansy in the common room, instead of settling in your boyfriend’s lap. Mattheo was forced to watch you the whole evening without touching you once. When you left for bed, you told him not to walk you to your room and reminded him to spend some much needed time with his friends. The sweet kiss you gave him, didn’t make up for any of it. 

Were you trying to get rid of him? To Mattheo the case was obvious.

Friday was the worst. Happy to finally have you next to him as you were both reading, settled close by the fire. With his eyes still on the page of his own book his arm moved behind you to pull you closer and you let your head rest on his shoulder as you continued to read, but still Mattheo frowned. Normally you would sling your legs over his and cuddle up against his chest, wrapping your blanket around the both of you and creating this warm bubble of love. He could barely focus on his book, as his eyes constantly wandered to you reading next to him but not cuddled up against him like you used to.

So by Saturday Mattheo had pretty much had it with you. You rubbed your temple as squeezed your eyes. “I have a headache, I’m gonna head to my room and rest for a bit.” You got up from your seat to leave the library and Mattheo did the same. If you weren’t feeling well then he needed to be by your side. “Oh, don’t Matt. I’ll be fine. I’ll ask Pansy to give me something against the pain and settle next to me until I fall asleep.” Mattheo stood perplexed as you just kissed him and left. Now he wasn’t even good enough to take care of you anymore.

This was the moment he snapped. With stern strides he follows you.

“Who is it?!” You frowned at the question and met Mattheo’s dark eyes. “Obviously, you’re done with me. So who’s better than me, huh?” His voice was filled with anger, but his question sounded so heartbreaking, that you felt no need to get angry with him for pushing you against the wall and snapping at you. You cup his cheeks and softly shake your head. “Matt, I love you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your voice is calm and endearing, reminding him of how much he needed your love. You were always so gentle with him and feeling you slip away the past week hurt so much that he felt like falling apart on the spot. He's too hurt and afraid to lose you to act tough and with a whisper he confesses his worries. “You don’t check up on me anymore. You don’t wish me luck before a test like you used to. We don’t cuddle anymore.” You stare at him in silence for a moment, you had never seen Mattheo this soft and vulnerable before. 

Your hands still resting on his cheeks move to his neck as you wrap your arms around him and pull him against you. Mattheo snuggles his face in your neck, embarrassed with himself and desperate for your warmth. You rest your head against his and your fingers move through his curls, making him sigh at your touch. “You told Draco I was a bit too much. So I backed off, because I didn’t want to lose you. I know I can get clingy sometimes, I’m sorry.” Mattheo moves away to look at you and his eyes look guilty. “No, no. Don’t apologise. Don’t be sorry. I love you clingy and cuddly. I need you to be around me.” Your eyebrows knit together. “But I heard you say-” Mattheo interrupts you and shakes his head. “I was being stupid. Don’t listen to the things I say. Just stay with me and love me… overwhelm me with everything you have.” You tilt your head in confusion. “No, I mean listen to me, just forget about what I said back then. I- I was trying to act tough so I pretended to- you know.” You chuckle. “You pretended not to like cuddles, because you wanted to be a tough guy?” Embarrassed with himself Mattheo nods. “I’m a softy for you and I need my daily dose of love. I don’t need space.” 

You sigh at Mattheo’s pouty face. “My boyfriend’s an idiot.” Mattheo nods and leans in for a kiss. “Please, let me take you to your room and let me take care of you, because I want nothing more than to be around you.” You pull him in for another intense kiss as an answer and as you walk to your dorm, he squeezes your hand the whole time walking.

Theodore

“Where’s my lady?” Theodore frowns as he sits down opposite of Blaise, who raises his shoulders without looking up from his book. Theo shakes his head in annoyance, he needed you like he needed cigarettes. He spent the whole day longing for your love and warm embraces. Merlin, all he wanted right now was for you to entangle your fingers with his hair and ask him about his day. “For once the two of you aren’t attached to the hip.” Mattheo quips and Draco snickers. “Must be refreshing to have a moment to yourself.” Theodore stays silent for a moment and a little further, near the common room entrance you halt in your step. “She’s so mothering, it’s almost toxic. I don’t know how you do it, mate.” Draco wiggles his eyebrows at Theo as Mattheo talks. “You know, if you ever need us to come save you, we could always come up with a code word.” Draco offers and Theodore chuckles, not knowing what to say. “It’s not toxic, but I’m happy to have a moment with you guys, because she can be a bit much. She’s always so… clingy.” You chew your lip and slowly take a step back, leaving the common room as the word ‘clingy’ rings in your head. 

***

You didn’t want to lose your boyfriend due to being too clingy. So you decided to keep your distance. 

Instead of spending your evening studying cuddled up with your boyfriend you ask Hermione to help you out with potions who of course never passes the opportunity to study. Keeping up his tough act in front of his friends, Theodore can’t protest as you leave the common room to go study with your friend instead of with him. Theo feels himself get cold as he sits by the fireplace with his friends. If you’re not there to keep him warm the room just feels empty and even the conversations are boring. He can’t help but curse himself for letting you go study with Hermione. Having to make peace with an evening without you, Theodore longs for the next day and having you next to him during breakfast while you talk about your plans for the day. 

The next morning, at breakfast Theo only gets a small kiss from you before you turn to Pansy gossiping about some third years. Theodore can’t resist but snake an arm around you and you love his touch, but you try not to be too clingy and decide to not fully lean against him. Your boyfriend is happy to have you next to him, but disappointed that you stay engaged with Pansy’s gossip instead of giving him some much needed attention. Why were you not combing his hair with your fingers until it looked the way you preferred it? Why were you not checking if he had done all his homework? What was so bloody interesting about Pansy’s conversation?!! He was getting so annoyed that he was caught by surprise when you kissed him tenderly and headed for class. His mind and body were screaming to have you back by his side and walk you to class, but he just turned to his breakfast and spent the morning sulking.

Finally, after two days, he had you close to him, settled on his bed with a book in your hand. You were all alone in his room and you both enjoyed the peace and quiet. You lay between his legs with his arms around you, while his head rested on yours, reading some of the paragraphs of your book but mostly taking in your warmth and scent. He gives you a soft kiss on your cheek and you smile and lean against his chest. “I love you.” You whisper and his eyes shine even brighter than he smiles. “Love you too.” However, your romantic moment is ruined when Blaise and Mattheo enter. “Astronomy tower?” Mattheo raises his eyebrows at Theo who is about to decline the invitation, but you speak up first. “I was just about to meet up with Luna.” You jump up and Theodore's eyes go furious at the suggestion of you leaving. “No you’re not.” Theo snaps at you, shaking everyone in the room. “Why are you so eager to get away from me?” Theo questions and Blaise and Mattheo’s eyes move from their friend to you. You take a step back at your boyfriend's accusation. “I’m not. I’m just giving you space so you can hang out with your friends.” Theo shoots Blaise and Mattheo a dark glare. “Out! Both of you!” 

As soon as the duo closes the door behind them and you and Theodore are left alone in the room Theodore gets up and towers over you. “I don’t want space, I want you. So tell me what’s going on, because I can’t stand it anymore.” His voice is stern, but you feel yourself relax as you no longer have to act differently and you can finally be honest with him. “You think I’m clingy and sometimes I’m too much… and I get that and I don’t want to lose you… so I did my best to give you some space in the hopes of saving our relationship.” Theodore’s heart aches at the soft tone of your voice. How could he make you feel like you were too much when you were all he wanted. “I’m such a shit boyfriend.” Theo sighs as he sits back down on his bed, making you frown and join him. “No, I was too much.” Theo’s head snaps to you. “You are not. I didn’t want those idiots to think I was whipped or soft or- so I said you were clingy, but you're not, if anything I am… I want you around 24/7.” Your eyes widen at his confession. “Soooo, you’re saying that ‘the’ Theodore Nott is so in love with me that he prefers cuddling over hanging with his friends.” Your boyfriend chuckles. “Yeah, so please just go back to reading in my arms and make me the happiest man alive.” You lean towards him and he meets your lips. The sweet kiss quickly turns passionate as you both fall back on the bed.

For the ones who asked to be tagged, here you go lovies: @ho3forfakeguys and @bitchoftoji

[kingkat12]

you're my drug (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, sexual imagery, foul language, mentions of drugs/tobacco

summary: after you got caught making out with Eric at rehab, everything suddenly spirals into something much deeper

word count: 5,022 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part two of draw you! enjoy!!<3

As I stood in the courtyard, kicking some rocks along during my lap around the premises, I couldn't help but wonder when I would see Eric again. It had been a week since we were caught making out in his room, and I had just gotten out of a two-day solitary confinement— it was definitely a harsher punishment than expected. Then again, I should've known; this place was an absolute shithole. 

The worst part of the ordeal was having to write down my feelings and get another check from the warden, along with questions about whether or not I was a nymphomaniac. Excuse me?

Had Eric gotten a harsher repercussion than me? Maybe he had been moved to a different rehabilitation center? I didn't want to think about it. Again, I shouldn't be worrying about a stranger I barely knew. It was a little reckless of me to care for someone who had drawn me naked— now that I wasn't in a state of arousal, it dawned on me how creepy that actually was.

But then again... I had been the one to jump him. That was on me. Had I not offered up, I wouldn't feel so attached to him. 

... Maybe I was a nymphomaniac? Fuck.

So when I eventually lost track of where I had kicked my stone, I started looking for new ones. And it was during my hunt for entertainment that I eventually spotted a familiar tall figure entering the courtyard. 

Eric's cheeks were more hollow than the last time I had seen him, and I couldn't help the guilt that immediately seeped into my system. He seemed much darker than I remembered, the green in his eyes no longer having that playful shimmer I could spot from far away. However, when he spotted me on his way through the courtyard with a guard by his side, something changed in Eric. The flush in his cheeks returned, his eyes widened, and I could see the faint remnants of the smile that had etched itself into my mind for nights on end. But when he met my gaze, he looked away in a flash-- was he afraid we'd be caught staring at each other again?

I couldn't even control the way I immediately jumped into action as the guards left Eric's side, and I made my way to him with a confident stride. "Well, if it isn't Michelangelo?" I said, approaching with a smile. Seeing him in the flesh again made the tips of my fingers tingle, a certain excitement building in my system. "Where have you been? Did they put you in confinement too?"

But the smile I had seen in him earlier wasn't there anymore-- he turned to me, face blank. Eric blinked twice, watching me as though he didn't know why I was talking to him at all, his nose scrunching up. 

My pulse quickened as my anxiety rose; what was happening? 

"We shouldn't be talking," Eric eventually mumbled, looking away. His green eyes darted towards the guards on duty, wary of their movements. It didn't take long before he started walking away from me, which in turn left me stunned. 

I wondered whether I had said something wrong as I watched him join a few guys that were working out, and I had to take a deep breath to ground myself.  Everything about this made me feel like a complete and utter idiot-- I turned away from Eric, rubbing my temples as I made my way back inside. This was giving me a bigger headache than the ones I would get after coming down from a high.

This definitely felt similar to that; the crushing feeling. Having Eric dismiss me like that after what we had done felt more painful than usual, now that I couldn't dull down my feelings with anything. 

I walked back into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Everything about this made my whole body ache, and I couldn't understand why I even cared to this degree. 

Had I been so delusional as to think Eric felt something for me too?

Later that night, I didn't care to come out for the last meal. Something told me I'd be staring at Eric again and that he'd dismiss me once more, and I didn't know if I could take it. I hadn't missed drugs as much as now-- everything about this situation reminded me of how I ended up here in the first place.

As I lay in my bed, hoping to fall asleep and wake up a new woman, I was dragged out of my sleepy state when I heard a light shuffling sound coming from my door. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before my gaze slowly darted towards the commotion. 

There it was. A note?

I went to pick it up, feeling my heart thump hard in my chest in anticipation. The paper was familiar, like rough velvet to my fingers, and the same size as a page from a notebook. The smile that crept up my lips was impossible to suppress-- I turned the paper to see a new drawing of me, made in the same scratchy style as the previous ones I had seen. 

It was an image of me laying in a bed, my eyes hidden in the crook of my arm, lips parted as though I was drawing in a big breath. The pink jumper I was pictured in was a lot bigger than mine; I suspected it was supposed to be Eric's. From the waist down, I was wearing nothing but a black pair of underwear, my legs dangling halfway off the bed. 

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my chest rise as my heart skipped a beat-- it was beautiful. Completely breathtaking. And in the corner to the upper right, there was a scribbled message with boyish writing that was hard to understand;

messy mornings. let's have those someday? xx

My smile only spread, and I let out a shaky breath of relief as I leaned my forehead against my door, pressing the drawing tightly against my chest. The joy that coursed through my veins reminded me of the same euphoric feeling I'd get from doing a certain type of drug-- I wasn't sure whether it was good for me or not to be feeling these things, but I knew I was addicted already. 

Was Eric maybe addicted to me as well? Was the incident in the courtyard just something he did in front of the guards, straying away from trouble?

I couldn't be sure. Nonetheless, I had gotten confirmation that he definitely thought about me too, and that was all I needed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I could swear it was the same as getting high-- seeing Eric, I mean. It was especially exhilarating knowing he was right in front of me, but that I couldn't say a word to him. 

We were currently in a typical meeting, a group of people sitting in a circle trying to work through why they had started drinking or using. I hated these gatherings the most; I wasn't the biggest fan of airing out my life to strangers. 

But today was different. Eric had joined my group, even though his meeting usually took place later in the evening. I felt the air seep out of my lungs the second I spotted him in the door, watching him with eyes wider than expensive plates of china as he sat down on the chair opposite me in the circle, locking his gaze on me. 

And there he sat, in a casual manspread as he twiddled his thumbs, waiting his turn. His dark mullet had grown out a little, the hair on his forehead inching closer to his eyes with each week he was here. It was easy to get lost when I stared at him for too long, hypnotized by his tall build and his green, green eyes darting right back at me. The smirk playing across his lips mirrored mine, both of us feeling the tension thicken between us despite knowing our minds should be elsewhere at this moment.

I had gotten so swept up with Eric that I nearly jumped out of my chair when my name was called. My eyes frantically ripped themselves off of him, finding the guidance counselor with a confused look. What question was I supposed to answer? 

The counselor cleared her throat; "How are you planning to change your habits once you get out of rehabilitation?"

Oh. I had no idea. Flustered, I ended up shrugging, avoiding Eric's amused gaze. "I think... I might have to work on my impulses. So I guess I will try to make sure I don't give in to bad habits by..." I realized I was completely lost, and it made my cheeks flush. "By doing, uh... Doing breathing exercises?"

My eyes snapped toward the sound that came from the other end of the room-- I watched as Eric clasped a hand over his mouth, head hanging low to hide his blatant amusement. Was that a snort I heard? I had to actively bite back a smile from forming, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip with a force I had never used before.

The counselor cleared her throat, clearly unhappy with the direction this was heading. "Yes, Eric? Do you have anything to say?"

His green eyes darted up from his lap, and it was obvious that he was biting down on the inside of his cheek. Eric crossed his arms over his chest, nodding to himself as though he was thinking. "Well, if you're asking me the same question, I think I plan to surround myself with people I love. I think that's where it went wrong the last time," 

I held my breath-- I hadn't expected him to say that. And I had most certainly not expected Eric's eyes to find me immediately after, realizing his pupils had widened the second they landed on me. 

I didn't try to suppress my smile this time. I let it happen, watching as Eric smiled right back with a shimmer in his eyes. 

Something told me I was actually going to get something good out of group therapy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... It dawned on me a few days later that I didn't have much time left in rehab. It also happened to dawn on me at the exact moment another drawing slipped under my door, right around the time I was ready to go to bed. 

It was probably the fifth one this week, and I had laid them out neatly on my nightstand. Every image was as beautiful as the last one-- two of me in bed, one of me out in the courtyard again, and one of me during a group session falling asleep on Eric's shoulder. It warmed my heart to think that he had thought about that imagery when we had sat opposite each other a few days ago. Actually, everything about this warmed my heart.

However, today's drawing caught me off-guard. Today, it was a nude one-- deja vu. My eyes locked on the image of me in what looked like Eric's room, gripping his hair as his head was dipped between my legs. One hand was clasped over my chest, and the other one was digging its fingers into my thigh, holding me down. Everything about it made my heart stop, letting out a laboured breath at the sight. 

As always, there was a small message in the upper right corner;

in an alternative universe, there wouldn't be guards outside and there would be no stopping us.  can't wait to taste you xx

My hands gripped the paper, almost to the verge of curling it. It felt as though my body was actively on fire, a need ripping its way through my chest. And it was this exact feeling that had me rushing to put the drawing away before bolting out my door, knowing Eric couldn't have gone too far. 

Thankfully, I had been right. I spotted Eric further down the hall, towering over the people passing him. It was impossible not to notice the tattoos poking up from under his pink jumper, and something about it made my heart race even faster-- I so desperately wanted to see everything. Feel him beneath the pads of my fingertips. 

And I burned. Burned, burned, burned up. And I kept on burning as I sped down the hallway, hearing the loud clacking of my shoes echo through the space along with the thumping of my heart. "Eric!"

Hearing his name, Eric turned around, eyes wide in surprise. "Hey, you," he murmured, brows knitting together as though he was about to scold me. "Thought you were sleeping?"

I finally caught up to him, quickly scanning our surroundings, realizing we were alone. 

"... Are you here to return the drawing?" Eric asked, tilting his head to the side as he scanned the look on my face. A nervous smile spread across his lips, and he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck as his eyes flickered around the hallway. "Might've been a little much, sure, but you didn't seem to mind it the last time?--"

His words trailed off as the small hand tugging at his jumper caught his attention. Eric's eyes rounded out, immediately understanding what I was getting at. When he leaned down, I let out a shaky breath before I flung my arms around his neck, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

I had hoped it would satiate the burn ravaging my body, but it didn't. As Eric's big arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him, the fire only spread. My hands barely had time to go up into his hair, tugging softly at his dark locks, before he pulled away with an airy chuckle. "You'll get us in trouble again,"

That's true-- "Fuck," was the only thing I managed to say. 

Humming, Eric glanced down the hall before pulling my hand into his, intertwining our fingers as he led me away. I was glad it was almost time for bed, seeing as there were barely any people out in the hallway and the guards were relaxing outside on their cigarette break. A familiar dulling of my brain seeped into my system as I remembered the smell of their cigarettes gliding into my room from outside-- I missed nicotine. But Eric was better than any cigarettes. Better than anything I had ever taken before. No high could match the one I would get from locking eyes with him, getting a drawing under my door, or the feeling currently coursing through my veins as he led me into a desolate stairwell. "This will do for now," he muttered, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'll make sure to bring you somewhere nice when we're both out of here."

As my back hit the wall, I couldn't suppress my growing smirk as Eric neared me. The last time we had stood like this, had been right before he left my room after we made out. Seeing how tall he was, casting a shadow as he towered over me, I let out a sigh of joy; I had missed this. I had missed him. There was nothing that could make me happier than being alone with him. "I'm getting out of here soon, actually,"

Eric hummed as he placed his hand against the wall next to my head, his green eyes locking with mine. I wasn't too afraid to show my burning state-- he watched my lips part as I stared up at him, and I watched his jaw clench as he tried to digest the look in my eyes.

Sex. I was giving him those bedroom eyes that always worked on every guy I had ever been with. My eyes got all glassy, my thick lashes hanging low. I was quite sure I would let him fuck me right here if he wanted to-- I was past the point of caring who caught us. 

"Soon, you say? How soon?" Eric asked, leaning down to press two separate kisses against the corners of my mouth. 

I had to control the way my breath hitched before I answered; "A week and a half,"

Nodding, Eric's fingers brushed against my lips, pressing into the skin as he watched my expression with a heated one of his own. His thumb dipped past my lips, brushing against the tip of my tongue. "I'm out in three," 

I smiled before wrapping my mouth softly around his thumb, watching a breath escape him as his green eyes locked on the sight. Eric leaned down to kiss my cheek, watching as they flushed when he pulled his finger out of my mouth. "Where can I find you when we're out?"

"You seriously think I would leave this place without giving you my address?"

"Okay, good," Eric chuckled, his eyes rounding out with a newfound softness. "Because I think I'll need you out there more than I need you now."

What? I swallowed, biting down on my lower lip. Did he reciprocate the way I was feeling these things? I wondered whether he also felt the pit of fire in his stomach, whether he couldn't breathe whenever I wasn't around, and whether thoughts of me also wreaked havoc through his mind in every waking moment. 

Eric's eyes lowered, taking in my stunned silence. "Honestly, I thought this was purely a lust thing, but... I've come to realize it's not just that. The one thing rehab has taught me, is that I need to break my habits, so here I am. Not running,"

I hadn't smiled this brightly in years. "Eric?"

A hum.

"I feel the same way," I reached out for his face, glad he had bent down a little to make it possible. "I'm quite sure I've gone mad, but standing with you here feels better than any drugs I've ever taken. And quite frankly, that drawing... Fuck, that was quite something." A breathy giggle escaped me, watching as Eric met my gaze with a smirk playing across his plush, pink lips. "That shit was hot. You're so fucking talented, do you know that?"

Eric freed his lower lip from his teeth, inching closer to gently nudge his nose against me. "Nope, I definitely don't know that. Completely oblivious. Which is why I need you around to tell me that, once in a while,"

"I'll tell you every day, if you want," I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of our closeness. 

"Good," Eric whispered against my lips, his hands now grabbing at my waist, pressing himself closer to me. "And I'll eat you out every day. Deal?"

I was quite sure I was going to faint. Remember the drawing, I couldn't wait for our time to come. "Sounds like better therapy than anything they've done for me here,"

"Definitely," 

I smiled, giving his dark hair a tug, pulling Eric against me to connect our lips in a passionate kiss. 

How we had gone from staring at each other to this, I had no idea. How it became this enormous feeling burning through my body, I couldn't guess the answer. But the one thing I knew, was that it felt right-- being with Eric like this felt right. Correct. Perfect. 

As our kisses grew with hunger, resembling that one evening on Eric's bed, my body began to grow flushed as his hands dipped beneath my pink jumper, traveling up my torso with a fiery need to be close. "Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling away, panting just slightly.

I nodded, unable to wipe the grin off my face as my sweater got discarded somewhere on the floor, licking my lips out of pure habit. Eric was quick to dip his head forward, swiping his own tongue along mine. My back arched off the wall in surprise, the movement against his body earning me a small groan. This was how I realized he was hard-- I had to suppress another hitch of my breath.

"Shit, I want to take it all off," Eric whispered against my lips. "Everything. Feel all of you." He pressed his lips against my chin, moving his way down my throat and to my neck. I could feel the cool air hitting my back as he lifted my shirt off as well-- my nipples hardened at his attention, his hands gripping my breasts through my bra, squeezing them. 

I whimpered against his touch, writhing in anticipation. I had no idea what he had planned for me, if we were going to go all the way or not; I could already feel my excitement pool between my legs, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The arousal had been in my system since the second I saw today's drawing, and I let it out by tugging at his dark hair once more, hoping for him to come back up. "Eric, kiss me-- Wanna feel you too," 

I watched Eric's eyes light up as he pulled away and met mine. And he complied, capturing my lips in a needy kiss, his big hands gripping at my hips and digging into my skin through my trousers. Realizing I was the only one with my shirt off, my hands dipped under his, hoping he'd get the memo as I tugged at the hem of his pink sweater. 

Eric's lips barely left mine as he discarded his sweater elsewhere, satisfaction coursing through my veins as our chests pressed up against each other, our hearts beating at the other through our skin. I had desperately wanted to see his tattoos, drink in the sight of the art scattered across his body, but it hit me that we didn't have time-- we didn't know when we'd be caught. I figured I'd leave it to the time we'd be out of rehab, when we'd have time for messy mornings every day, and when we had time to be buried in each other completely. 

"I don't know if I can wait three weeks," I breathed in between hungry kisses, my hands running up and down his toned torso. 

Eric hummed against my lips; "Me neither," 

And with that, it didn't take long before his slender fingers dipped down into my underwear, making my breath hitch at the realization of what was happening. "Been dreaming about this for weeks," Eric whispered, one of his hands disappearing in my hair to hold me in place, making sure my eyes met his as he rubbed tight circles around my clit. "You're all I ever think about."

My mouth was open against his, small gasps escaping past my lips, bucking into his hand as he sped up his movements around my clit. "I'm so crazy about you," I whimpered, watching the green of his eyes swallow me whole with adoration and lust. My mind still hadn't completely registered that this was happening, especially not under the blue lights of the stairwell. "You're better than drugs, I swear."

Eric chuckled against my lips, watching me moan against him as he patted the pad of his finger against the slick of my core. "Better than drugs, you say?"

"Much better," My words were barely coming out properly, and any continuation of that sentence was stopped the second Eric pressed a finger into me. My breath hitched-- fuck. 

He hummed, a sweet smile splayed across his lips; "You're my drug," 

It was almost too much-- I bucked against his hand once more, squirming in his grip as the flame spread through my body. I really couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy or aroused. I let out a breathy moan as he pumped his finger into me, the squelching sound of my wetness drawing forth a blush in my cheeks.

"I'd take my time with you," Eric whispered, capturing my lips in a short kiss before continuing; "But we don't have a lot of time. Forgive me if we make this quick."

I could barely nod, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt his thumb back against my clit, his middle finger curling inside of me. It was obvious that he had done this before. 

My mind was already mush by the time Eric slid his finger out of me, turning me around and peppering my shoulder with wet kisses. It didn't take long before he leaned down to tug my pants down to my knees, fingers eager. I wasn't sure how to explain the burning need that was currently clawing at me, but I knew it was all-consuming. Eric had consumed me-- I knew I was his and only his.

So when I felt his big, strong hands grip my hips, pushing me towards him to allow for an easier entrance, I could only moan out in complete and utter satisfaction as I felt his cock sink into me. Eric let out a breathy grunt, now snaking both hands around my body, burying himself to the hilt with the slowest stroke known to man. "Fuck," was all he managed to say, hissing slightly against my shoulder before sucking down on a spot, wanting to leave behind a mark.

I couldn't believe the strange places my mind went to-- why was I contemplating getting that hickey tattooed? I wouldn't need it anyway, if Eric kept his promise and stayed with me after we both got out. There was nothing I wanted more in the whole wide world.

All my concerns flew out the window as Eric gripped my waist for leverage as he continued to thrust into me, leaving me with my mouth open against the wall. My body was aching with pleasure unmatched anything I had ever felt before, and I knew that the difference between this time and all my other escapades was how much I had craved Eric-- and how much I knew he craved me.

My breath hitched as he nipped at my jaw, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. "Wanted this... so, so long..." Eric let out a grunt as his hands went down to my hips again, pulling away from my neck to watch his cock pump into my dripping core. I was quite sure it was glistening with my slick by the sounds of it. "Wanted this-- Wanted you."

"Me too," I cried, resting my hands against the wall, meeting his thrusts. "Every night, all the time..."

"All the time," he echoed. "Forever."

My breath hitched at both his words and the way one of his hands left my hip, ghosting over my stomach. I knew exactly where it was heading, and I had to bite back a rather loud moan as Eric dipped his hand down between my legs. Eric spread his fingers, covering my whole cunt, feeling the sides of his own cock rut into me. It didn't take long before his whole hand was practically covered in my slick, and I was quite sure I heard a drop hit the floor. Everything about it made me shiver.

Like this, I was practically pushed to rut against the palm of his hand, the pressure against my clit making me gasp-- I knew I wouldn't last long like this. Perfect.

By the sounds of it, Eric wouldn't either. He let a breathy moan escape his lips before he let go of my hips, reaching up to grab my chin, tilting it to the side so that he could kiss me. I let out a soft cry against his lips, feeling my walls clamp down around his thick cock. Feeling beyond full, I reached around to grab his dark hair, feeling his locks between my fingers as a familiar tightening in my stomach appeared. 

"You're the only one I've ever wanted this badly," Eric murmured against my lips, his thrusts becoming rushed and erratic, clearly holding back his high. "Be mine-- Fuck, be mine?"

If I hadn't been this close to my high, I would've cried. "All yours, Eric, all yours... A-Aah!--" My walls clamped around him as I was driven against the palm of his hand once more, driving me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before.

Eric took this as a green light-- It didn't take long before he let out a grunt against my shoulder, gently biting down as ropes of cum decorated my walls, his thick cock twitching with its release inside of me. 

Our pants filled the stairway, and I was quite sure my legs would give out as he pulled out of me with a wet pop, tucking himself back into his trousers. I could only smile, leaning against the wall as I let out a sigh of relief. I was so incredibly glad we managed to do all of this before getting caught-- I was sure I wouldn't have been able to wait until we were both out. The burning in my body subsided, the ache turning into an all-consuming feeling of joy. 

I turned to Eric with a soft smile spread across my lips, trying to steady my breathing. He was especially beautiful now-- kiss-swollen lips really suited him. 

He returned my smile, leaning forward to capture my lips in a soft, gentle kiss. My hands reached out for him, cupping his face as my thumbs caressed his cheeks. It was such an exhilarating feeling to be adored like this, and I wasn't sure I would ever experience it until now. Meeting Eric felt like seeing a lunar rainbow-- exceptionally rare.

However, Eric's sweet smile suddenly turned back into his usual mischievous smirk. Before I could even say a word, he had dropped down to his knees, leaning forward to wrap his lips around my aching sex, covering my whole mound as he sucked at me.

I could barely breathe as I realized what he was doing-- was he sucking his own cum out of me? This was new. And weirdly pleasurable. I let out a wanton moan, gripping his hair in the exact same way I did in Eric's drawing. I could only whimper as his tongue darted out, drawing a circle around my overstimulated clit-- instinctively, my hips bucked against his mouth. Something about this felt weirdly full-circle. "Eric, wait!-- Shit,"

He hummed, looking up at me with those green eyes I loved so much. "Will you kill me if I draw this?"

I could only sigh-- bliss. 

(a/n: PART 1, PART 3 linked here!! enjoy<33)

[luimagines]

Reader confronts the boys about the events of loopy from a poisoned plant.

But everything turns out okay because reader likes them too :)

- glitter ✨

The aftermath of loopey plant? Got it!!

Masterlist

You can read the first part right here!

Content under the cut!

Four

Long day finally over with, you get ready to end it as you crawl into your bed roll.

Four was busy sleeping off the rest of the poisoned pollen and whatever antidote Legend had all but shoved down his throat. You're not sure you're willing to deal with the aftermath but the morning cannot come fast enough.

You lied. The morning came too fast.

You wake up quickly and try to figure out what to do next. You turn in your bed roll and see that Four is already awake.

He sees you before you can pretend to still be sleeping and you curse your luck. Internally, of course. Outwardly, you smile at him and sit up, trying your best to stay causal despite everything he said into your ear the day before.

"Good morning." You grin.

Four winces. "Too loud."

You flinch in return and lower your voice. "Whoops. Sorry."

"It's ok."

"How're you feeling?" You whisper and move to sit next to him. You're suddenly not all that tired. You wait on baited breath to hear his answer and if he's retained any memories from yesterday at all.

Four bite his lip and knocks on his own head gently. His own voice is quiet. "I have a headache but that's about the worst of it. I wasn't too bad yesterday, was I?"

You smile. "You slept most of it off. It wasn't so bad."

He sigh and nods in relief. "Good. I was worried I might have made you uncomfortable."

"Why would you have made me uncomfortable?" You lean forward, trying to keep your smile innocent and less shark like.

Four blushes and looks away. "I have the vague suspicion that I was speaking out loud for a good part of that but I can't seem to tell if I actually did or not."

"Oh." You tilt your head. "That's not so bad. I don't think you were."

"Really?" Four looks back at you, relief flooding his gaze. "Thank goodness."

Your grin turns sharp anyway. "So when do I meet your dad and grandpa?"

Four stills and curls his lips into his mouth. "...Come again?"

"You wanted a summer wedding, right?" You tilt your head. "I was thinking about it and I think you've got the right idea, but I've always my wedding to be outside and the summer might get too hot. So an early summer or late spring wedding might work best if we got that route."

"Oh my god." Four covers his mouth as horror begins to step in.

You giggle and kiss his cheek. "Think about it, yeah? Let me know what you think. I'm not opposed."

".....thanks..."

Wind

Warrior carried Wind back to camp in record time.

Wild returned with Legend, Hyrule and Four and sicked them all onto the groaning and pained boy in front of you.

You tried to stay closer but word spread fast and soon everyone had a hand in helping Wind get back on his feet. Even if that included distracting you in the process.

The day ended before you knew it and everyone was settling in for the night since Wind was now stable and more coherent than he was hour before.

You crept close to the boy and laid nearby, just in case Wind tried calling out to you again. Feeling a little brave, you grabbed onto his hand and let your eyes close shut.

Wind tightened his grip on your hand, calling you name weakly into the air. Your eyes were open in an instant.

"I'm here, Wind." You answer him, crawling a little closer to the boy. you sit up, hoping that the angle would allow him to see you. "I'm here. I never left."

He groans and turns in your direction. "Really? I thought you wouldn't come."

"No." You don't let your voice waver. "I was always there. You just didn't see me."

Wind doesn't seem too convinced but he's also exhausted, no doubt from the treatment everyone had painstakingly shoved down his throat. "I'm tired."

"I know." You smile softly. "It's late. You should sleep."

"What happened?" He asks you instead. "I don't remember what happened after the plant. It was pretty."

"Pretty poisonous." You grit. "Don't go near that thing again. It hurt you really bad."

"Ok." He doesn't fight you on this. "Is that why everything hurts right now?"

"Kinda, yeah." You tell him, because it would be mean to lie. "And everyone freaked out when you were poisoned, so the guys might have been a bit rougher on you than they should have been. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive them."

"They owe me."

You laugh. "Sure, buddy. Sure they do."

"Stay?"

"Of course. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Hyrule

You managed to get Hyrule to the group camp with less damage than you thought would be needed.

Hyrule wasn't helpful in the slightest, but you're thankful to the shadow that has been helping you thus far.

He comes to his senses a few hours later, after you've filled the others in the situation. The Traveler groans loudly and rolls over. "My stomach hurts."

You don't have it in you to feel sorry for him. "Probably because you literally ate the dirt." You shake your head. "Let me get you something to drink; maybe that'll help."

"Thank you." He looks your way but doesn't move from his spot on his bed roll.

You get him some water and mix in some white power Twilight said would help him with any stomach problems. He had a bit of humor to his voice but you're willing to bet that was just because he was holding back laughing at your rendition of the earlier events.

You were a bit dramatic about it but Hyrule doesn't need to know that.

You come back and give it to him with little fanfare and sit nearby. "Here."

"Thanks." He starts to sip it closely. "Why does my everything hurt?"

You smile a little, amused that your little turn of phrases were making their way through the group. "You were literally dragged all the way back here. Not dignifying, but I didn't have many options."

He hums and continues to slowly drink the water. "....That would explain why it feels like I fell down a mountain."

You see the shadow tease Hyrule's hair in the distance. It's subtle but Hyrule visibly relaxes. "What damage did I cause?"

"None." You shake your head again and move to sit closer to him. You can at least pretend that the shadow is you, just so no one asks questions. "Unless you count damage to my psyche from the strange things that came out of your mouth."

"Oh god, don't tell me I confessed." He whines and drowns the last of the glass to avoid eye contact.

".....what?"

"I said it, didn't I? I told you I loved you. Crap. I'm sorry-"

"No." You stop him before he can continue with that train of thought. "...But you did now."

Hyrule freezes.

You're also left staring at him.

The shadow acts quickly and pulls your head down so that your lips touch Hyrule's head. You pull back quickly with a bright blush.

"We'll talk later." You steal the glass away and scurry as fast as you can to busy yourself with something unimportant.

Hyrule will be fine. Right? Right.

Time

You were absolutely correct.

Twilight and Sky had found you and had tease you relentlessly once they managed to pry you away from Time. The Old Man didn't seem to want to let you go.

It would have been a little more humorous if he hadn't looked on the verge of tears at the thought of you leaving him.

You stayed with him, because anything else would have sent the poor man into a panic.

It took a total of two days for the effects of the pollen to calm down and for Time to be restored to his quote unquote, former glory.

Luckily for him, he didn't seem to remember most of it. Only that he kept looking at you in a way that had your chest clenching and your breathing coming out in short bursts of pure emotion.

It was maddening. ...And the boys weren't helping you in the slightest.

You had to clear the air at the first chance you got. You didn't want to continue this strange dance you've found yourself in with the Old Man.

You pulled him aside and were ready to interrogate him when your words died on your tongue. There he went again, looking at you with the most tender and adoring look you had ever seen on a man, let alone him. "...Link. What is it?"

You can't bring yourself to be accusatory. Something about the flower changed him. He's never been this vulnerable on this journey. What had he gone through?

Time raises a hand and runs the back of it on your cheek. "...I thought I lost you."

"Never." You grab his hand, holding it close. "You could never lose me."

"I found myself powerless." He takes in a shaky breath. "Tell me. What changed between us? What did I do?"

"N-nothing." You gulp, feeling your legs go a little weak at the sheer power he carries in his voice. "You called me a flower... and then wouldn't let me go. It was innocent."

Time doesn't seem convinced. But he doesn't have enough in his memory banks to dispute this. "Very well."

"Link?" You hold his hand a little tighter. "....It was the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me. I... should thank you."

"I hardly doubt something said in the midst of confusion and loss of cognitive function would be considered romantic." Time glares at the ground. "I could do much better now that I'm sober."

Your breath hitches in your throat and you decide to get a little brave and reckless. You lean closer and nearly poke your nose with his. "Prove it."

Something ignites in him. A wicked grin blooms on his face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You whisper. "Because I would have said the same thing about you."

Wild

You ended up needing to change your shirt.

Wild was apologizing profusely and on the verge of tears afterwards.

Legend was kind enough to help you with the mess and steal one of the Captain's shirts for you to wear while Four and Sky helped Wild get himself situated and settled.

You sighed and fixed the way the clothes clung to you. It highlighted just how skinny Warrior was but you didn't want to think about that when you were more worried about Wild and his current state.

You rushed back quickly. Wild was sniffling and whining like a kicked puppy while Hyrule brushed his hand through the Champion's hair, trying to calm the other boy down.

"How is he?" You whispered as you got closer.

Hyrule looked up at you and cringed. "I'm sure you can guess. He might have ingested some of whatever it was that made him this way. He says his stomach hurts a lot despite not eating anything. I'm inclined to believe him."

You sighed and copied the movements the resident healer performed on your friend. You lean in and kiss Wild's forehead. "I'm sorry, buddy. You'll feel better soon."

Wild looked up at you and swallowed harshly. "Promise?"

"I promise." You smile tensely. You look to Hyrule for confirmation and he looks just as lost as you feel. You repeat yourself anyway. "I promise, Link."

He groans against and curls up tighter. "I'm sorry...'bout your shirt."

"Soap and water exist." You wince, trying to keep your voice light. It was your favorite shirt, but you don't want Wild to feel worse. "Legend is taking care of it."

"Oh... ok."

"You've been very nice and good to me." You whisper. "I don't think I have the capacity to be mad at you. Much less for this. I like you too much, Wild."

"I like you too." He tries to look up at you. "...I didn't like that plant."

"I don't like it either." You agree, if only to make conversation. "Let's not get close to it again, yeah?"

Wild nods and closes his eyes, reveling in the way your hands feel in his hair. "I'm never cutting my hair."

You giggle slightly. "Good. I'd miss it."

He smiles.

Twilight

It had taken many hands to get Twilight to behave enough for him to be treated.

You didn't think he would be as possessive as he was. He growled in ways you didn't think was possible and nearly tried to bite Time.

It was... fascinating, if a little scary.

You watched him and tried to calm him down with the others. Eventually he fell asleep.

Only to wake up less than hour later.

You wanted to yell and scream. He had just calmed down. What mess do you have to deal with now?

"Ow my head..." He sits up in his bed roll and hold his head in his hands. You step closer to him and poke his shoulder. "How're you feeling Rancher?"

"Like I got kicked in the head." He mutters under his breath. "What happened?"

"You got poisoned." You smile softly, gathering that it was more or less safe to be next to him now. "And then hugged me. And smelled my hair. And I think you kissed it."

Twilight had gone completely still in the time that you had begun talking. You noticed but decided to keep going if only to save yourself from blushing at the reminder of his not-quite-kiss.

"You also tried to punch Warrior in the face, bite Time and wrestle Wild." You shrug. "Sounds normal if you ask me."

"I won't." He rubs his forehead. "...Did I do anything else? ....To you?" He adds hesitantly.

You feel just as hesitate but honestly? He wasn't all that bad, if a little too honest. You shake your head. ""No. You were well behaved."

"Thank Ordana."

"I like you too by the way." You blurt and lean closer. "And you don't have to be scared to talk to me, ok? I like talking to you too, Link."

You kiss his cheek, if only because it's fair- implies your traitorous brain. You don't see Twilight short circuit, but you do see Warrior and four give Twilight some thumbs up from their corner of the camp.

"Get better soon, ok Darlin'?" You copy his subtle drawl and watch in gremlin delight at the way he completely flushes red.

"YeAh." He clears his throat, unable to meet your eyes. "I will. I will."

"Good."

Warrior

The loud curse that slips past your lips was enough to get the group to look over to where you were.

Legend and Twilight naturally started laughing at the sight of Warrior face first in the dirt before you called out for help. Wild and Sky responded quickly, helping drag the unconscious young man to the middle of the camp where it was safe.

You instantly started explaining what you say and how he reacted, giving your own ideas about what might have happened without actually being there to witness it.

Time and Four got to making a spot to put his body where he would be comfortable until he slept it off.

You hovered around like an anxious hummingbird. You had all this energy and no where to spend it. Feeling your plight, Hyrule and Wind took it upon themselves to keep you occupied before you started to mother hen the Captain while he was unconscious and unable to defend himself against it.

Thankfully, it didn't take that long for Warrior to wake up- complaining quite loudly that he'd swear off drinking for the rest of his life.

You had the sudden suspicion that it wasn't the first time he had woken up such a manner- even though you knew that there was nothing alcoholic in the vicinity. Still, you decided to commend him for the attempt. "Good. We'd hate to deal with you hung over as it is."

He groaned and rolled over in his bed roll.

No one bothered to correct him in his incorrect assumption that he had been drinking with the boys.

Time had snorted at the claim and at his reaction but there was a subtle wince to his face that you couldn't help catching. Was Time familiar with the feeling as well?

You shake your head and make your way next to Warrior. "Hey."

"Hi." He grumbled, clearly not happy with his current predicament.

"What do you remember?"

Warrior tenses up before he can stop himself. He clearly remembers something but he doesn't to tell you, less you confirm it for him.

You smirk. "Do you remember the kiss?"

He shoots up. "What?!"

Given that you're not entirely sure what going through his head, you're willing to make a bet and let his own mind fill in the blanks for you. Besides, fireside cuddles sounds nice- but if he had something else in mind you don't think you're inclined to turn down that offer either.

You giggle and kiss his nose to tease him further. "There wasn't none but you mentioned it. If you ever want to follow through with what you told, just let me know."

Warrior looked horrified.

"Let me know." You repeat yourself to get through to him. "Ok?"

His voice is small and disbelieving but he nods slowly. "...ok."

Legend

It took a while for Legend to cooperate enough for you to bring him back to camp and get him checked up on. He wouldn't stop going on and on about how you were one of nicest people he's ever met and that he never wanted to leave you and the thought of leaving you made him sad-

Honestly, you had to tune him out for the most part. If you continued to listen to him talking and rambling you would have probably started crying. You never would have guessed that Legend was incredibly sentimental underneath it all.

You had to leave him to the care of the other boys while you went to collect yourself off beyond the forest line.

With time, when you no longer felt all mushy and soft for the boy had to grow up way too fast just to survive, you made your way back to the camp where Legend was looking properly hung over.

He groaned and maybe vomited a little given the looks Wild and Four were giving him as Time cleaned his face. You're a little ashamed that you more or less ran away from him but you doubt he would have wanted you to see him like that anyway. Right?

Eventually, you gather up the courage to get close to Legend and sit next to him where he would actually notice you. He sees you and rubs his face. "I was told you brought me back."

"Yeah." You admit quietly. "I found you first."

"I already told everyone to stay away from that stupid flower."

You pale slightly. In your attempt to rid yourself of the embarrassment, you had completely forgotten about the plant that got Legend into this mess to begin with. "Oh. Good."

Legend nods and rubs his head a bit. Warrior steps in to give the Vet a glass of water. He drinks is greedily.

"Do you still want to braid my hair?"

Legend chokes.

You bite your lip. "I wouldn't mind it."

He looks at you with a scarlet face and with wide, almost scared eyes. "Oh my god, what did I tell you?"

"I lot of things," that you don't think you have the strength to go into right now. "But it's really not that bad."

Legend smiles, but it's not like he believes you.

You'll just have to prove it to him.

Sky

After you successfully managed to drag Sky throughout the unmarked trail back to the camp, you started barking out order to the boys to help him. They rushed to put their hands to work.

Hyrule first went about healing any injuries he may (read: absolutely) have obtained.

Four and Warrior went about making a tonic to help rid the pollen slash poison out of his system while you went to clean yourself off and pretend everything Sky said to you didn't actually happen.

When you returned feeling better about yourself and the current mess, you found that the boys had managed to corral the chaos of the camp as well. Sky was stable and dinner was already over the fire. It would be ready in a matter of minutes.

Luckily, Sky didn't stay asleep for long and soon it was as if nothing had ever happened.

But you decided that you still needed to get some answer out of the boy.

The following morning, after everyone's morning routines were done and over with, you found yourself guiding Sky away from everyone else just to see how much of yesterday he actually remembered.

He seemed unable to meet your eyes.

"Good morning." You bump your hip against him. He nearly falls over but catches himself. Sky's blushing. "Good morning."

"Sleep alright?"

"As good as I could given the pollen from that weird flower." Sky scratches the back of his neck.

"Oh perfect, you brought it up first. I was going to ask you about that."

Sky blushes harder. "Yeeaaah? What about it?"

"What do you remember? Do you remember what you told me?" You tilt your head, not bothering to acknowledge how awkward he no doubt feels. You feel a little vindicated since he made you drag his dead weight all the way back to camp on your own.

Sky looks away.

That's all the answer you need.

"Did you mean it? Truly?" Hope enters your voice before you can stop it. Sky catches it because of course he does.

"Yes. I did." He mutters. "I also recall that you said... you said that I was pretty too."

"You are!" You kiss his cheek, taking your shot. "Ok?"

"More than ok." Sky takes your hand softly, lacing your fingers together. "....Do you really think I'm the good child?"

"....you're one of the best ones here."

"I broke a chandelier on purpose to get an item."

"....my statement still stands, honey. But I'll remember that."

[chiaraswritings]

Unexpected.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes, emotional distress, physical exhaustion, pregnancy. 18+.

Word Count: 3.9K words

Summary: Batmom! reader finds out she is pregnant a short time after marrying Bruce Wayne, not in the most pleasant of ways. Telling him won't be easy, but Alfred gives her some encouragement.

Author's note: After four hours of work, I deem my first fanfiction suitable for posting. Thank you for all the support. I hope you enjoy.

It'd been two months since that beautiful, blissful, romantic day. Actually, two months, two weeks, and one day. But who was counting, right?

The newspapers were. Headlines of gossip news, huge block letters in bold, depicted that I had been spotted at the gym alone again, also describing their support for my "weight loss journey" since I had been "losing my figure". I had been reading this article over and over for about an hour. Damn. I inspected the black and white photo of myself in leggings and a tank top. The worst part about, well, everything, is that they were right. I was losing my figure, noticeably. 

I didn't even notice Alfred behind me until he spoke. "No matter how many times you read them, the words are not going to change, ma'am."

I jumped slightly. I hadn't been sleeping or eating well at all, my back and chest ached too much to relax, and heartburn hit me like a batarang after meals. I think I had gotten thirty hours of sleep in the last week, and maybe one meal a day. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you know when dinner will be ready?" 

"In a half hour, ma'am." The butler moved to the other end of the kitchen table to face me. "Those words in the paper are words that all who love you disagree with."

Alfred's words touched me if only a little, and I set down the paper. "Thank you, I think I'm going to take a walk." 

He looked concerned, but just for a moment. "Alright, ma'am. Try not to be late, the chicken may be devoured." 

Chuckling, I stepped out into the early evening light. I would not be late for dinner, living with five hungry men teaches you a lot. The sunlight embraced me, bathing me in its gentle rays, glimmering over my face. I felt positively glorious. Closing my eyes, I soaked it in. My husband would soon be home to kiss me and keep an arm around my waist. The simple thought of his touch made my mouth stretch into a smile. Five more minutes, and I'll go in. 

Five minutes turned into twenty. Being amongst the blooming flowers and the busy insects kept me occupied. Not only that, but a sudden headache had overtaken me. I sat in the grass, unladylike, watching the bees collect their last supply of nectar from the flowers for the day. Grass stains never bothered me anyway. I knew time was getting away from me, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to focus on anything. I didn't want to go inside because I didn't want bedtime to arrive. It was too painful to even think about. My head and back reminded me of that even now. 

My vision blurred slightly, I could only focus on a single flower on the bushes before me, bees continuing to fly around it. This was nice. I couldn't focus on a single thing, or think about anything, or worry.

I felt myself fall, sort of, to the ground. Fall was the best word I know to describe it. I was already sitting on the ground, but my muscles suddenly felt like pudding. My head bumped to the grass and laid to rest. Terror gripped my heart and throat for a single second before everything just... relaxed. My vision went next, but I was okay with that. This was so relaxing. I wanted to stay.

...

"Madam. Madam (Y/N)!" The voice came from... maybe a mile away. Maybe. Maybe ten miles. Maybe a hundred.

"(Y/N), madam (Y/N)!" Something cold was on my face. Ugh. I don't like that. The wind bit and stung at where the cold wetness was on my cheek. Ouch.

"Wake up, madam!" No. I don't want to. Go away. But the voice sounds scared.  

I slowly, slowly, with great effort, opened my eyes. Instantly they closed again. My friend the butler was hovering over me. What was his name again?

"Mom!" New voice. Go the hell away. I open my eyes again. 

"I'm here, I'm fine." Sitting up took much more strength than opening my eyes, but I managed to do so. Dick and Alfred worriedly stare at me. "I was just taking a nap."

"That wasn't a nap, it looked like you passed out." Dick was the one with the cold wet cloth. He put it to my head again. I gave him a withering glare, and he pulled it away again, looking apologetic. 

"It was a nap, of course I didn't pass out. Now let me return to it," I waved my hand in no particular direction, trying to shoo them away like mice.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to sleep on the cold ground in nothing but your loungewear, ma'am." Alfred took the cloth from Dick and put it to my forehead. 

Lord, they were being so annoying, I just wanted to go back to sleep. My eyelids drooped and my words slurred. "Bed hurts too much right now... just come back later..." my head finally dropped forward as vision began to diminish again. 

I couldn't really tell what they said next. What I could remember was, "Inside now... call the... when they can see her..." and "...got her... go and tell him... I've got it..." 

The sensation of being lifted did not startle my dozing. Neither did the shouting, nor the feeling of hands on my face. I had earned this sleep, and I was going to... enjoy... it...

...

I was awake, but I didn't want to open my eyes. It wasn't time. Please don't let it be time. I peeked a glance at my watch. Eight in the morning on a Sunday? Yeah, back to sleep we go. 

Before I could return to my dreamless sleep, I became aware of unidentified breathing beside me. Was that Titus? Or maybe Alfred. Maybe I had been kidnapped. Did I care? Hell to the no. All I cared about at this present moment was slumber. If I was kidnapped, I could sleep all I wanted while I waited for them to rescue me.

Then, like a train, uninvited and on its own, the back pain hit my lower body. I couldn't help the moan of discomfort that tore from my throat.

Instantly, a hand went to my forehead. It felt so cold against my warm head. I'd better see who this person with the cold hands is and tell them to go stick their fingers in a campfire before touching me again.

 When I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't even in the garden anymore. Alfred, I told you I wanted to stay on the ground. But it wasn't Alfred who had put freezing digits on my forehead. It was my husband, my dearest Bruce, my wonderful partner in... crime didn't seem like a good choice of words. His worried blue eyes bored into my sleep-deprived (Y/C) eyes. Ouch, that gaze made my headache come back.

"Hello. Go warm your hands up," I told the love of my life before closing my eyes again. The light from the window seemed to be penetrating my very brain. 

"My hands are warm," replied the bearer of freezing fingers.

"Please, feels like your hands went to the Artic circle for winter vacation." My stubborn retort took a lot out of me, but I could practically hear his small smile. 

"There's my girl," he murmured. I opened my eyes again to smile at my wonderful... freezing... man. 

"Yeahhh, your girl's going back to dreamland. Night night." I grunted at the pain stabbing me in the back, the throbbing in my head, and the emptiness in my stomach.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Stay right here. The doctor's going to be here at ten, you should freshen up a bit." 

I opened one eye to glare unhappily at him. "Don't need a doctor. Need a nap."

His chuckle annoyed me to the very core, almost scaring away the shooting pains in my back. "I'm sorry, but this needs to happen. Do you know how worried we all were when we heard you had fainted in the garden? The boys hardly wanted to go on patrol, they wanted to look after you."

"The boys didn't want to go on patrol? You didn't want to look after me?" I glared playfully at my handsome knight. "And I didn't faint... just took a nap."

"On the cold hard ground?" His questioning gaze made me open both my eyes.

"Yes, it felt nice on my back." 

"Does your back still hurt, sweetheart?"

"Yes, it still hurts." 

"And you didn't feel like sleeping in the bed?"

"The hell is this, an interrogation?" 

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Go away," I retorted, closing my eyes. "I have to go to work, no time for doctors."

"I called and told them you can't come in this week."

"This... this is why I married you."

It didn't take long to fall back into blissful, painless paradise. Bruce left me alone, but I knew he was close by, watching over me. The mansion was so quiet and peaceful, I knew the boys were fast asleep.

Much too soon, I was being kissed awake. 

"Darling, Doctor Thompkin's here. It's time to wake up." Bruce's forehead kisses were, for the very first time in our relationship, annoying. 

"Ugh." I rolled over to escape, my back cracking. 

"Upsy daisy." He stroked my back, gently massaging my painfully aching muscles.

Sitting up took all the strength I had, and yet I had to find more to answer the questionnaire the doctor was springing upon me. Bruce stepped out mid-examination to answer a phone call, leaving the woman to observe my body and take into consideration my answers to her questions. Her questions seemed endless. "Have you been out of the country in the last month?" 

"No."

"Have you been feeling depressed or hopeless?"

"No."

"Are you on any medications?"

"No."

"Do you or any family members have history of scoliosis?" 

"No."

"History of heartburn?"

"No."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"It's marked on the calendar, couple pages back." 

"Do you know what year it is?"

I gave her a funny look. "Of course I do, what's wrong with you?" Now I feel bad for saying that, but I certainly didn't in the moment.

The doctor chuckled, her friendly eyes had laughter lines around them. "Just wanted to make sure you're still with me. Are you on birth control?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been on birth control?" 

"Couple months. I went on it during our honeymoon."

"During?"

"Yes, we realized condoms and plan B weren't as convenient as the pill."

"I'm going to need a blood sample and then we're done here. I'll be in touch with the results. You don't seem to be suffering from scoliosis, but I'll contact you about x-rays to confirm. I haven't made a house call in a long time, or practiced family medicine, but I'll do everything I can to make sure we get to the root of this."

"Okay." 

The blood draw seemed to take longer than I remembered blood draws taking. The prick of the needle didn't disturb the haze of sleepiness that still surrounded me. The woman's departure signaled another wave of sleepiness to wash over me. Bruce and Alfred were showing the doctor out as my head hit the pillow. Pain shot up my back, but sleep had already captured me. 

Tomorrow turned into today, and then today became yesterday. It felt like I slept the whole Monday, skipping work and family dinner. Tuesday morning came with sunshine and kisses from my darling husband as I slowly opened my eyes. 

"Hi," I smiled at him. One of Bruce's arms was holding me almost loosely as he lay next to me in the white sheets. He looked worn and tired from a long night of patrol. I sniffed him. Good, he had showered. 

"Hello." His tired kiss on my lips was slowly waking me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I told him. My smile was getting bigger and my world was waking up. I traced the shape of his exhausted eyes. "Close your eyes. Sleep." 

"Mmph." His eyes closed and his body relaxed under my touch. Normally, Bruce was the one to hold me tight and kiss me to sleep, to caress my body and keep me safe. Looking over his body, I realized that he had been through a difficult night of patrol. A stitched gash across his back, an unhappy bruise on his jaw, scratches on his forearms. Worrying about my "condition" probably hadn't helped him stay alert out there in the dangerous night of Gotham. Guilt washed over me. My arms protectively wrapped around my dearest husband, my lips pressing to his forehead. Today, I was going to keep him safe, I was going to comfort him through his slumber.

...

Bruce's snoring wasn't exactly a lullaby, so I was up and about after a few hours. The boys were crashed in their rooms and Alfred was busy baking something that smelled like chocolatey deliciousness. I was looking over the morning paper, again, skimming for any mention of my family or I. Unhealthy habit, you could say. I was curled up in an armchair next to the bed, keeping the rustling of the newspaper pages to a minimum.

Vibrations of Bruce's cell phone made me look up. As silently as I could, I leaped up and grabbed the phone from the bedside table on Bruce's side. My husband's sleep was important to me, and if I had it my way, nothing at all would disturb it, not even nightmares. 

I carried the cell phone out of the bedroom and glanced at the caller ID. Doctor Thompkins. Results. Yes. This wasn't the first time I had answered my husband's phone, so I wasn't going to feel guilt over finding out my own test results. "Hello?"

"(Y/N), hello. I'm calling with your results."

"Tim's been telling everyone in the family it's yellow fever, please prove him wrong."

"Hah, no, it is not yellow fever... I'd say it's something a little more... serious."

I stiffened. My aching back didn't like that. "What's up?"

"We spoke about your history with birth control, but we need to talk about it again. It would seem that there was some window of time where you and Bruce were not using protection."

My backache must've hit my brain, because looking back, I can't believe I didn't catch on. "Bruce gave me a disease?"

"Not a disease. You're pregnant, (Y/N). I can't make an estimate on how many weeks you are, but I'm going to give you the contact information for an OBGYN. Make an appointment as soon as you can. Congratulations, Mrs. Wayne."

...

When Bruce woke up, I had to apologize to him for his cracked cell phone screen. I told him the truth, that I'd dropped it, but I didn't explain that it was from shock. He told me it was alright, that he'd pick up a new one, but he wasn't quite sure why I looked so very upset over dropping his phone. That would explain itself in time.

I didn't eat a thing at dinner that night, despite my full plate and coaxing from my family. Even the finest cut of steak is unappealing when something like that is on one's mind.

Who wouldn't overthink a thing like this? Pregnant, after a literal two months of marriage? Pregnant, while caring for four boys that you saw as your sons? Pregnant, after your husband had told you he didn't want anymore children? Pregnant, after you had both tried to be careful? Pregnant, to one of the greatest vigilantes and most successful businessmen in the world? Pregnant. I am pregnant. I might have my husband's baby.

"Mom!"

My head jerked up and I was greeted by five concerned faces. 

"Ma, you look like you're in another world," Jason forked a piece of potato. 

"Maybe I am in another world, Jay-Jay." I smiled slightly before standing. Ten eyes observed my every move. 

"Ummi, where are you going?" Damian, the one who I expected would be the least concerned, watched me with huge, worried eyes. 

"I think I need to sleep more. I will see you all tomorrow morning." I kissed every head at the table, my lips lingering on my husband's forehead. He rested his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down for a gentle kiss. I think he noticed my hesitance, but I didn't stop to think about it or explain. My back only permitted me to walk up the stairs, but if I could've run, I would've.

Once Bruce and the boys had left for their night of patrol, I breathed again. Laying on the bed, clutching my pillow to my chest, trying to rehearse how I would address the situation to Bruce, it took a lot out of me. "Bruce, I need to tell you something," I mumbled. "No... Bruce, we need to talk." 

"Madam, I am not sure if you have noticed, but Master Bruce is not here." Alfred's voice startled me for the second time this week.

"I wish he was. I'm sorry, I'm... practicing." I tried to give my friend a reassuring smile but it came out as a grimace. 

"Good luck, madam," Alfred set down a cup of tea on my bedside table and gave me a genuine Alfred smile. Before he was out of the room, he turned back and looked me dead in the eye. "Master Bruce loves you very much, Madam (Y/N). He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink." 

I looked straight back into this wonderful gentleman's eyes. "Thank you."

...

I tried to sleep through the night, I really did. When dawn and my boys arrived, I was still wide awake, not having slept a wink. I trotted down the stairs to the batcave, taking extra care not to trip. Once on the floor, we went through our post-patrol routine of inspecting each one of my boys. First Damian, who shrugged me off several times before allowing me to look over him, then Tim, who accepted my worrying for what it was, then Jason, who pretended to be annoyed for show, then Dick, who looked over me as carefully as I looked over him, then finally Bruce, who would not stop kissing me, barely giving me a chance to check him for injuries. 

No one was truly hurt, but all but one were tired as they pulled off their suits. The boys trudged upstairs to their rooms, but my husband carried me valiantly up the stairs to our place in the master bedroom, like a knight carrying his princess.

Once the bedroom door was shut and he had set me down, I was instantly on my back laying on the bed, Bruce's lips showing affection to my neck and collarbone. A soft, throaty moan left my mouth as my husband kissed me, his hands working their way over my body. I was clothed in my favorite outfit of a tank top and leggings, and I knew they were at risk of being torn from my torso and limbs if I allowed this to continue. Besides... I had to tell Bruce. 

"Darling..." the word I said was half-moaned. "Darling, please, you need to shower."

"I thought you liked my scent?" Bruce chuckled, looking up at me, his hands working their way up my shirt. 

"Mmm, I do, but you are going to dirty our sheets that Alfred worked so hard to wash." 

"You have a valid point, but I don't like it." Bruce grinned and pulled off the little clothing he wore. I chuckled and rolled my eyes, watching him make his way to the shower. If I hadn't had such a burden on my mind, I would've joined him. I could hear him muttering insults at the slippery bar of soap that his large fingers always seemed to have trouble grasping, and it made me smile. My hand absentmindedly rested on my stomach and I wondered if his child would have the same troubles as their father.

Bruce's shower was shorter than usual. Much shorter than if I had been in there with him. Chuckling, I made room for my knight in the bed. He hadn't bothered to put on clothes, or dry his hair. Bruce climbed on top of me, drops of water falling from his hair to my chest. His lips reattached to mine, devouring the kiss like a wild man. I knew what he had on his mind from the way he caressed my body, and I had to put a stop to it. 

"Bruce... Bruce, wait." 

Concerned eyes met mine. "(Y/N)?"

Alfred's words replayed in my mind. He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. I stared into the beautiful blue eyes I had grown to take comfort in. "Bruce, Doctor Thompkins diagnosed me."

Instantly, his desire was forgotten. Bruce sat back on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. "Tell me, darling, what is it?"

His arms made me feel so safe. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink. "I... you need to expect the unexpected."

"So I'm guessing it's not yellow fever, since that's what Tim expects," Bruce smiled. The gentle attempt at humor didn't lift the worry in his eyes. 

"Heh, no... not exactly. It's... it's a baby." The last three words were much quieter than the others. 

Bruce looked at me quizzically. "I don't think I heard you correctly." 

"A baby," I honestly voiced my diagnosis, somewhat fearfully looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Bruce's glare pierced mine. He gently slid me off his lap and set me on the bed before standing and walking to the window to silently stare out of it. His breathing had changed, his body was stiff, everything about him seemed cold and hardened. 

My worst fears bit and tore at my heart, anxiety gripping my throat like a murderer. Oh Lord, he doesn't want me anymore. I didn't know whether to go to him, or leave the mansion, or stay in the bed, or cry, or speak. So I just waited, for a full two minutes, staring at my husband's scarred back. After waiting that long, tears began to prick at my eyes. I finally laid down and curled into the cold sheets. "I'm sorry."

I heard him turn. "What are you sorry for?"

"Not paying attention to my birth control. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," my tears left wet spots on the pillowcase. I closed my eyes tightly. 

Then I felt his weight on his side of the bed, he was laying beside me. Bruce collected me into his arms, tilting my chin up, asking me silently to look at him. I opened my wet eyes. 

"I'm not angry with you. I'm thinking about it. Just let me think." Bruce's rough, calloused fingers brushed against my peach soft cheek.

"Okay." I closed my eyes to fight back angry, hot tears. He pulled me to his chest, holding me to himself. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. 

He must've held me like that for an hour before he finally, finally spoke. "Well, this isn't what I thought two months into our marriage would look like." 

My tears had left stains on his chest. Only a surge of bravery made me look up at him. "Yeah."

He looked down at me, smiled, kissed my lips, and I felt my husband's love course through my body. He may have turned me away physically, but he had never turned me away emotionally. I sat up on his lap, straddling him, my forehead resting on his, my hands on his cheeks. "I love you."

"And I love you," Bruce's fingers brushed against my waist. He seemed hesitant, and his eyes met mine. "May I?"

I was confused for a moment, but then I realized and nodded, beaming. "Yes."

His large hand rested on my stomach. The wheels in his head were still turning, but they had calmed, and they were only turning in the name of love. 

"Expect the unexpected." 

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 11

you’ve been such a pain in my ass.

you’re the most fascinating person i’ve ever known.

can you stop needing to be the hero here?

people don’t just disappear. 

we are saying goodbye. just not to each other. we’re saying goodbye to everything else, our old lives.

everything that kept us safe is gone.

i would rather prepare for the worst before the worst happens.

i am basically 100% headache right now.

you’re the only one who ever let me feel normal.

maybe i suck too. i just don’t know how yet.

i’m not choosing anyone. i’m choosing work over play.

doesn’t it feel like everyone wants us to be someone we’re not?

a sleepover? am i invited?

it has to be you. you’re all we’ve got.

you know me. we know each other.

it’s called keeping up with the times, asshole.

but fuck all of you, and i mean that.

people don’t usually follow my lead, if you know what i mean.

there’s nothing wrong with us.

i want your point of view on things.

you’re killing me. you get that, right? that’s what you’re asking me. to die for you.

i’ll follow your rules. that’s all you get.

i’d love to trade witty one-liners with you.

you’re the worst. you know that, right?

today is the first time in my life that feels like the right time.

there is a point to everything. there are answers.

god doesn’t just play games with people for fun.

the sun just keeps coming up every day, and you can’t cry forever. 

you have to have hope, don’t you? because who knows. maybe tomorrow.

you don’t get to decide what matters.

a lot of what’s happening is us being scared, and alone, and bored. so we do scary things to each other, we hurt each other. 

it’s like she wants to turn the whole world upside down.

who’s been there for you more than me?

bullshit. we’re not the same person.

you didn’t pick me. because you didn’t think i belonged.

if i had to pick anyone in the world when things got bad, i’d pick you.

this isn’t about us. this has nothing to do with us.

there is no us. because of everything.

i love you. i know i don’t always show it, but i do. i love you.

the universe does not care about your love life.

i’m not sad. i’m pissed off.

you say too many things you don’t mean.

i’ve thought a lot about dying. i’ve gotten used to that. but i don’t like to be afraid.

sometimes when i’m angry, i want to hurt people.

i’m worried that i’m not real.

all you can do is have an advantage, and this is mine. it’s all i have.

what i did is not the worst crime in the world.

given everything, can’t i get a tiny break?

why? what’s so special about me?

are we going to fight each other over food? that’s fucking crazy.

you can live wherever you want, just not with me.

we should get some food, before it’s all gone.

what if things don’t go back to the way they were?

don’t give me a fucking speech. you have no idea.

i guess i can learn to get along with a few more people.

what’s so hard about being honest with yourself?

it’s been ten days. i’m not the same person i was.

if there are things that need to be done, i want to do them.

there are no sides anymore.

you’re the best decision i’ve ever made.

we’re the same. you have to stick with your own.

i’m scared, and i have to take care of myself.

i live in your shadow, and now you suddenly want to disappear?

you know that you’re the love of my life? and whatever comes after this.

if this is it, this is where i want to be. i mean not here, but with you. you’re where i want to be.

i was a different person before we fell in love.

thank you. for loving me. 

right now, we could use all the love we can get. 

you get scared, and you get mean.

is this how you want to spend the time you have left? always looking over your shoulder?

you’re giving me a headache instead of having my back.

it’s just, sometimes i know what i want, i just don’t know how to say it.

the only feelings that anyone cares about are yours. 

people keep dying around me.

i feel really lucky to have you. you’re my rock.

the end is none of your business.

i like you exactly the way you are.

i’m so sick of feeling different from everyone else.

after “fuck you,” i don’t have much.

i think about you too much.

i don’t think about you.

i’m not scared. i’m just realistic.

it feels like i’ve been starting forever.

no one cares about the best player on the worst team.

i’m tired of losing. i just don’t know what to do.

that’s hopelessly romantic. and this isn’t hopeless.

i haven’t been happy all year. why start now?

i’m sorry i can’t turn off my feelings whenever you want.

seems like everything i do hurts your feelings.

i care about you. i just don’t know how to prove it.

i like who i am in your eyes. i like how you see me.

i’m not sure i like myself in a relationship.

i’m way easier to replace.

when it ends, it’ll hurt.

the right thing is just to be here with you.

death is not beautiful, it’s final.

i keep failing everyone, and i don’t know what to do.

i don’t feel sad. i feel numb.

i ask people if they’re all right too much.

you never needed me. you needed someone.

i made myself sick to make you feel better.

this whole time i thought it was dying, but it’s living what scares you

you’re afraid to commit, and i need constant validation. 

you don’t belong here. not after what you did.

there is no mystery here. nothing to avenge.

i made a wish, and it came true, and i couldn’t take it back.

he was a bad person and a worse father. the world is better off without him.

you never know when to stop, do you?

you do whatever it takes to survive. or you die.

you think i didn’t try everything to get back to my family?

[shibaraki]

tags: GN reader, migraines and headaches, sensory overload, fluff, mutual feelings, caretaking, implied reader works at tokyo jujutsu high

wc: 1.3k

Satoru can feel it coming.

His focus wanes ever so slightly at first. The energy around him flickers like heat from a flame. Unnatural blips of light dapple his vision, closely followed by a high pitched ringing in his ears. No pain at that point, but his heart hammers awkwardly in his chest because he knows it’s inevitable.

There’s always a generous twenty minute window before his condition takes a hard turn for the worst. Twenty minutes to finish whatever he’s doing—be it fighting, paperwork, training or teaching—and leave with an acceptable excuse.

It’s lucky that Satoru spent years spitting out frivolous, inane things for the sake of antagonism or distraction. People usually waved him off, weary exasperation etched into their brow, never asking questions. Trusting that Gojo Satoru had somewhere important to be. Shoko knew from the start, and that was always one too many.

Then you came along. Too perceptive for your own good. Migraines rarely happened but whenever they did you were all glassy eyed looks and gentle nudges. Satoru, starved for touch and dreading how the pain should soon fill his skull like lead, would feel infinity warp just for the sake of letting your knuckles brush his.

This time he’s lounging in the cold, clinical hallway leading to Shoko’s office waiting for her prognosis on the transfigured corpse he brought back. The cheap luminescence irritates his eyes, and the words he’s reading coalesce into a pulsating blur that won’t readjust no matter how many times he blinks.

Suddenly the magazine on his lap is slapped shut as you lean on the back of the bench, putting the full weight of yourself onto your palm, cursed energy spiking a fraction. “You look peaked,” fingers brush back the loose hairs over his forehead as you softly continue, “Maybe you should go home and rest”.

Not for the first time he is grateful for the mask fastened around his eyes. It does nothing to stave the sensorial discomfort today but at least it conceals his thoughts. “Rude. I was reading my horoscope,” Satoru juts his chin, breathes in steady and huffs through his nose, feigning offense. The forced exhale alone is enough to make him wince.

“See,” you tell him, though not unkindly. Your hand covered his clammy forehead and he tried not to nuzzle into it, already sensing the agonising tip of a spear weedling through his temple. “You’re a little warm, too”.

A door clicks open. Regrettably your hand yanks away and Satoru grits his teeth before he can whine. The atmosphere ripples as infinity seeks to cover him whole. Shoko’s heels echo through the liminal space. Shadows cast across her face under the doorway, highlighting the goading twitch of her mouth. “Am I interrupting?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says at the same time as you reply, “No”.

Shoko scrutinised him a moment longer as Satoru wet his lips and leaned against the heel of his hand in an attempt to discreetly alleviate the pain. While you very notably do not bring up your concerns Shoko realises anyway. “It’ll take a while longer to take this one apart,” she lies smoothly, fiddling with her gloves and snapping them over her coat sleeves. “You might as well go home for now. No point loitering”.

He notices how your cursed energy settles into a relieved simmer, drawn closer when he stands from the bench. “Doesn’t usually take that long,” he commented, purely for show, barely hearing himself over the shriek piercing through his ears.

“Must’ve lost my touch,” Shoko replies dryly. Her gaze slides to you, and gentles. “Can I trouble you in getting him there?”

You nod your assent, “No trouble. I’m heading back that way anyway”.

“Oho? Gonna take me home?” Satoru drapes himself across your back then, pressing his forehead to your warm shoulder. His eyes fall closed and he inhales, the long day mixing into your scent.

You sway under the abrupt weight but you don’t shrug him off. “I’m walking with you, not carrying you,” came your disgruntled voice, betrayed by the contentment visibly spreading through your body. Patting at his hip you tell him, “C’mon, let’s go”.

The journey to the dorms is nothing short of a sensory nightmare. Residual cursed energy clings to every nook and cranny, brighter now and grating to look at. Sweat gathers at his nape as the pain intensifies. You hold his elbow, one palm curved around the pointed edge while the other slips into the crook, giving intermittent squeezes as if to reassure him there’s not long left.

Satoru is both deeply relieved and frustrated to be seen through so easily.

It’s a small mercy that nobody else is around. By the time you’ve guided him into the dorms, Satoru is holding his own head up with his hand. Your murmured incantations tether him until the wooden bed frame knocks the back of his knees and he lowers delicately onto the mattress with a staggered breath.

“How often does this happen?” you ask, reduced to a whisper. While Satoru tries to find it in him to answer, your fingers cradle the back of his neck and recline him onto the pillows, so as not to jostle him further.

This is where he’d interject with a suggestive comment, smile as your pulse quickened, revelling in the effect he has on you even if you don’t intend to act upon it. But the vulnerability renders Satoru useless. He remains in pliant repose, spilling out across his bed like loose yarn, letting you work at the buttons of his shirt.

Soon enough he’s left only in his underwear, chest rising and falling in exertion, and not for any of the reasons he’d like. He hears you tug the curtains shut and pad further into the bathroom. The turning of the tap, the quick running water, all without switching on a light. You return to his side and trail fingertips over his covered brow. “Going to take this off, okay?”

Satoru angles his head in response, allowing you to work at the hook there. His blindfold comes undone, silky ends ghosting over his cheeks, and despite the lack of it he still flinches away from the possibility of light.

The tenderness is overwhelming now. Harsh throbs ricocheting through his skull. He recalls the first time it happened. Back then Satoru had simply attempted to sleep it off. Hours interrupted, restless and nauseous. Angry too. Betrayed by his own body. His bloodline. His technique. Laid trembling in a puddle of his own sweat, the pain carved out a violent loneliness inside of him.

Gojo Satoru does not get to be weak.

“I’ve got you,” your voice ripples through the mire of self loathing, and a cloth saturated in cold water is placed over his eyes, shrouding him in solid darkness once more. The cool sensation seeps into his sockets, and soothes. He shudders.

“There you are,” fingers splayed over his cheek, thumb stroking back and forth over the swell. It’s then that realisation shrikes through him. You’re concealing your residuals. Satoru lolls into your palm and sluggishly thinks of the implications. The words get caught in his throat. Every thought frays and he barely has the strength to grasp a single thread. All but one.

Stay.

“I’m staying over,” you say, as if plucking his plea from the air.

“No dinner first?” Satoru replied. He had meant to be teasing, but his voice cracks at the edges. Consciousness is sand and silt sifting through his fingers. He sighs and paws at your waist as you apply pressure to his temples in lieu of a response and begin a slow, circular motion. The pain ebbs.

“Try to sleep and maybe I’ll let you take me somewhere”.

Satoru’s arms tighten where they’ve coiled around you. He can’t see your expression, nor can he discern your energy. But he hears the promise in your voice, gentle and deliberate.

“Mmn,” he relaxed in small increments, tongue too big for his mouth. Moisture from the cloth trickled down his jaw, behind his ear. The world steadily falls away from him. “…’Kay,” he slurs.

In your capable hands, he sleeps.

[mouwrites]

thought I should request something steven universe themed if you wanted to write it!!!!

how about a PLATONIC steven universe × human fem reader when she's sick!! I literally have the worst fever it's killing me anyways!! good luck !!!

HOW did this turn out so long…. anyway, sickness solidarity my friend 😞 I have also been struck ill

Word count: 1k

Steven Universe - Sick?! (Steven [platonic])

Steven perked up when the ringing tone of his phone suddenly cut off. Your voice came through, huskily rasping: “Hello?”

“Hiii Y/n!” He chirped, kicking his legs back and forth merrily as they dangled from the couch. He had been miserably bored for… twenty minutes now, if the clock was still working. He’d called hoping that you’d be available to help ease his boredom, but he couldn’t help the feeling that something was off. Usually you didn’t answer so quickly, but there was something else too, something he couldn’t quite pin.

“Wait a minute. You aren’t usually home at this time of day.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m not feeling too well, so I stayed home.”

Steven brought a hand to grip his hair dramatically. “You’re sick?!”

You tried to laugh; you didn’t need to see him to know what he was doing. But it just came out as a sad little wheeze, and you had to regain your wind before you could speak again.

“I’ll be fine. I took some medicine, just waiting for it to kick—”

“Hold on, Y/n!”

He hung up. You looked at your phone screen, frowning. Should I be afraid..?

You were trying to sleep a little, if only to escape your throbbing headache (and all the other aches too numerous to name), but you awoke to the sound of pounding at your door.

You groaned, tugging your blanket over your head. But you could no longer ignore the noise when it was suddenly accompanied by an all-too-familiar voice shouting: “Y/n! Y/nnnn! Are you dead?! I’m coming in!”

Now you were awake. You flew out of bed at the sound of your front door opening, ignoring your wailing muscles for the time and scuttling down the hall.

“Steven, you can’t just break into my house,” you tried to sound firm, but you just didn’t have the energy. You cursed yourself, dragging a hand down your feverish face ruefully.

Steven had set his burger backpack on your kitchen table and was rummaging through it, completely ignoring you.

“I brought soup—it’s canned, I hope that’s okay—and movies, and coloring books, and regular books, and…” he held the bag wide open, clearly looking for something else.

His eyes suddenly lit up, and he plunged his hand into the bag and triumphantly pulling out a little star-shaped plush with a cute nightcap. “This!”

As much as you wanted to hate him for bugging you (you were rather irritable, being in pain and all), you couldn’t stop the huge grin that came to your face when he handed you the plush.

“What are you going to name him?”

You blinked at Steven, then at the little fluffy star. You were about to shrug, but you decided against it when you suddenly became aware of the aches all over your body.

Somehow Steven seemed to sense this, and he took you by the elbow and started dragging you into your living room, taking his backpack in his free hand. “You’re probably tired! Oh geez, your skin is super warm. Do you feel cold?”

He didn’t wait for a response, finding a blanket on the edge of your sofa and wrapping it around your shoulders as you sat.

He plopped down next to you, your shoulders pressed together cozily.

Digging through his bag, he fished out a few DVDs, showing them to you one by one. When he was done, he looked at you with wide eyes, awaiting your response.

“Uh,” you huffed, your eyelids feeling heavy again now that you were all cozy, “I don’t think I want to watch anything. You can, though.”

“Oh. That’s fine! You can just sleep. I’ll be here,” he smiled comfortingly, scooting aside so you could lie flat on the couch. You gave him a grateful nod and reclined, already half asleep by the time you repositioned yourself.

“Can I play with your hair? That always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

You hummed affirmingly. Steven’s hands were warm against your head as they smoothed your hair, combing it, twisting it, untwisting it; you thought you felt him trying to braid it at some point, but in your half-asleep daze you couldn’t tell.

When you woke up again it was just past noon, and though your sinuses felt funky you could smell something coming from the kitchen. You propped yourself up on your elbow, pressing your lips together at the pain of the motion.

“No! Don’t move!”

You had to smile as Steven stormed towards you with a bowl, his face shifting from anger to agony as he walked. “Hot! Hot! Hot!”

He plopped the bowl down on your lap, fanning his hands off. You could definitely feel the heat of the soup through the blanket, and it was actually pretty comforting.

“Thanks,” you chuckled, sitting up all the way.

“Eat up, you need your strength!” Steven winked. “Want me to put something on the TV?”

“Sure,” you said, blowing off a spoonful of soup and shoving it in your mouth. “You can pick.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on the couch with Steven, who fretted endlessly about you. He couldn’t seem to go five minutes without asking if you needed anything, and when you did he was off like a race horse to get it.

The sun was starting to set when you insisted that Steven go home. He looked like he wanted to protest, but looking at the darkening sky he knew he couldn’t.

“The gems will worry,” you reminded him.

“I know… are you sure you’ll be okay?”

You laughed, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure, but… call me if you need anything, okay?”

You smiled bemusedly. “I will.”

And then he was off. And not ten minutes passed before you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket, and you pulled it out to find a message from Steven:

Feel better soon! :)

You smiled once more, reclining easily against the soft cushions of your couch, much to your aching body’s relief.

Thank you so much for this request dear! And thanks for reading, take care duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[junekissed]

best boyfriend ever

member — seungkwan x gn reader genre — fluff word count — 750 synopsis — seungkwan takes care of you when you're sick warnings — mentions of nausea/other sick things (not super descriptive), seungkwan is the cutest and most caring boyfriend notes — requested by 🧸 anon — hope you feel better soon!!

one reblog = one lime gatorade seungkwan will give you

“baby, you have to take your temperature. please?”

you’re laying in bed, laptop propped up on the side table and playing the most recent episode of the show you’re watching. the only good thing about being sick is that even though you’re in a constant state of aches and pains, at least you can use the time to catch up on your favorite series.

despite being nauseous and dizzy 24/7, the downtime is actually a nice break from your responsibilities. but that doesn’t stop you from trying anyway; what’s even worse than feeling sick, is feeling unproductive.

you had almost made it to work today, but seungkwan managed to catch you before you could walk out the door, bundled up in layers and layers of coats and jackets but not wearing any shoes.

he just gently steered you back into bed, cooing about how you’d freeze and make yourself even sicker and that your boss could find somebody to cover for you for another day.

“i don’t want to, kwannie,” you sniffle through a stuffy nose. “it’s not like the fever is gonna go down anytime soon.”

he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. “yes, but we still have to make sure it doesn’t go up. i don’t wanna have to take you to the hospital.”

“you wouldn’t even take me to the hospital? that’s so mean. worst boyfriend ever.”

“if you weren’t so sick i might actually be offended,” he huffs, holding out the thermometer to you. “now will you open up for me please? at least let me do it for you. just sixty seconds, that’s all i need. then i’ll bring you more gatorade, how about that?”

“mm, gatorade,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. with a lot of effort you roll onto your other side so you can face him. “i thought i drank the last one yesterday, though?”

“i bought more.”

“the lime flavor i like?”

“mhm. got the big pack, too.”

“yay!” you say with a weak smile. you give in and open your mouth for him, the promise of something yummy to drink enough to bribe you into letting him take your temperature.

he carefully sticks the tip of the thermometer under your tongue, holding it in place for you. you let your eyes fall shut while you wait, suddenly growing tired. and before you know it the little plastic stick in your mouth is beeping, signaling that it’s done.

you slowly pry your eyes open, eyes fixed on seungkwan’s face as he checks the display. sometimes you forget how pretty he is, and it’s not the first time he’s caught you staring for longer than you should. his soft skin seems to glow, even despite the curtains being closed to block out the sunlight because it gives you a headache.

“only 100.8°,” he says, breaking your trance as he turns the thermometer around to show you. “lucky you, no hospital for you today.”

you hum in response and close your eyes again, letting your head fall back against the pillows.

now it’s seungkwan’s turn to watch you, gently brushing away the hair that’s fallen across your face. “are you getting tired, baby?”

you sigh, coughing a little. “maybe.”

he smiles fondly, but you don’t see it with your eyes closed. “alright. call me when you wake up again, okay, sweetheart? i’ll make you some soup when you get hungry.”

you mumble again and settle into bed as seungkwan fixes the sheets around you, smoothing down the blankets and picking up the extra pillow that had fallen onto the floor. finally he shuts your laptop for you, pausing your episode for later so you don’t miss anything, because he knows you’d be upset if you lost your place and had to go back and find where you left off.

he leans down and presses a little kiss to your forehead, watching your eyelashes flutter for a moment before he stands up and starts to walk away.

“seungkwan?” you call out softly, and he stops immediately, turning around.

“yeah?”

there’s a pause. “i love you.”

“i love you, too,” he replies, the smile on his face growing.

“i’m sorry i said you were the worst boyfriend ever. i didn’t mean it. you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

he shakes his head, already knowing you didn’t mean it and trying his best not to laugh at your sweet apology. “thank you, sweetheart. i love you, too,” he repeats.

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[dickgraysonwayne]

Eighty Four

Ao3

Summary: Dick has 84 years of memories in his head. Except he doesn’t

@dickgraysonweek 2024, Day 7: A Celebration of 84 Years

It all happens very suddenly.

One moment, Dick is turning in for the night.

He’s just come back from a long patrol, and the worst of Blüdhaven had been particularly brutal today. He loves this city, but it has its moments where it just about grinds him down into dust. Today is one of those days, and all he wants to do is sleep.

Too exhausted to do more than peel off his uniform, he staggers to the bathroom to splash some water down his face to get the smell of the bowels of the city off of him.

The next moment, his head explodes: all colors, shapes, and sounds. The sounds overwhelm him: voices screaming, speaking, chattering , one after another, layering on top into an unstable cacophony with seemingly no end. At first, Dick is certain he’s been shot in the head. His hand desperately roams around his scalp, his forehead, his face, trying to find the source and plug the wound, anything to make it stop.

But he finds nothing, and he searches and searches and searches til his arms are tired but there’s no hole and no blood and the voices in his head won’t stop talking (shut up shut up shut up).

Finally he can’t do it anymore and just gives in, curled up on the tiles and rocking against the pain and waits and waits and waits and waits

-

Hours (Days? Weeks? Months?) later, Dick can move.

The voices in his head don’t stop, not really. Instead, they settle there, filling out all the nooks and crannies, whisper and yell and scream until the noise is just noise and Dick is able to come back to himself, slowly but surely.

He quietly tests movement, twitches his fingers and his toes. When they move normally, he carefully levers himself up into a seating position, leaning against the bathroom wall. His head thunks on the cold drywall, and he breathes out once, twice, three times.

He can’t think (it would just be another voice inside his head, and there’re too many, too many) but he can move, and waits for a bit more function to return. You got it chum, Dick whispers to himself, pulling on the thread of an old, comforting memory. You got it. You got it. He feels something inside him react in confusion in response.

He waits some more, rubbing feeling back into his arms, wrists, fingers, trying to center himself in the physical world, trying to find his voice again.

Eventually, he can weakly maneuver his arms and, with great effort, push himself up to his feet. The voices don’t get better, but they don’t get worse either. That’s all he can hope for at this point.

Okay. Okay okay okay. Move.

He takes a step, and everything explodes again. Everything goes dark before he hits the the floor.

-

He wakes up outside the manor.

The first thing he notices is that his headache is much more muted now. The noise is still there, but muffled, moved to the sidelines in his forehead.

The second thing he notices is that the manor looks…different.

There’s small details here and there that look altered, just similar enough that it’s clearly the manor but different enough that it’s triggering the space of uncanny valley in his brain.

He stumbles towards the manor, mind whirling. How did I get here? He thinks. Why does it look so different?

Paranoid, he makes his way over to a window instead of the front door. Cupping his hands, he leans over and peers directly inside only to see…

Himself?

He blinks, and he’s back in his apartment bathroom, cheek pressed onto the tiles. The headache is back, exploding in his head so suddenly he almost throws up.

He breathes through it, then prays.

-

At some point, he can move again.

He moves slowly, half-crawling out of the bathroom, trying to remember where he left his phone. Help. Is all he can think. I need help.

He moves until he reaches his bed, shakily lifting himself on it and grabbing at the phone on the bedspread. He makes to unlock it, wincing at the light, then pauses.

911 would be a logical choice. However—

His…disappearing act, or whatever had just happened to him? That hadn’t sounded medical. It hadn’t felt medical. This had to have been something else.

And so…

Hoping he doesn’t regret this, he scrolls through his contacts, takes another breath through the pushing headache, then calls Bruce.

-

Yeah. It’s a mistake.

“I’m telling you,” Dick hisses through his teeth as Bruce takes a sharp turn in his car. “I don’t think it’s medical. I’ve been having—”

“We’re going to get you medical assistance,” Bruce interrupts, like Dick hadn’t been speaking at all. “Then, if it doesn’t work…”

“It won’t,” Dick says. His thoughts are so loud. “It’s magic. I feel it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Bruce says. He takes another sharp turn. “Don’t worry. I have it handled.”

“It’s not medical…” Dick says again. “It’s not—”

He draws in a quick breath. Something flashes in front of his eyes: shattered images, shadowy figures, memories. Childhood memories rush into his mind: moments from his time as Robin, form the teams he was part of during his youth. There’s Wally and Artemis and Kaldur and—

He frowns. That doesn’t sound right. He’s never…he’s never…

“Hey!” Bruce says, voice joining the shouting in his head. “Pay attention! We‘be almost reached the League. Stay awake!”

-

The voices get too loud to ignore very quickly.

He starts losing vision too, he thinks: quick flashes of things, of people, of conversations, start running through his brain at a constant pace. He doesn’t really know if what he’s seeing is what’s in front of him or not.

Eventually, he just starts asking.

“Bruce?” He wheezes out. “Where’s Duke?”

There’s a brief silence.

“Docto…”

“I’m calling Zatanna. This is outside of my capability.”

“Duke?” Dick asks, holding onto the name for dear life. “Where is he?”

He feels a hand grab his forearm. “Who’s that?” He hears.

“I’m giving him something,” He hears, and something pricks at his arm.

Dick says “what-” before the images and sounds come back and he can’t see anything and everything’s so much so much so much—

-

“It’s not magic,” Zatanna says.

Dick steadfastly refuses to look at Bruce. “What is it, then?” He asks. He scratches at his hospital gown. “They said it wasn’t medical—”

“Well,” Zatanna says. “It’s not not magic either. It’s just…it’s just not the magic I’m familiar with. This is…” She pauses, tapping her finger on the solid Justice League medical wing bed. “I don’t know where it’s coming from, or how it got to you. But I know what it’s doing.”

Dick winces. The voices pound at his head relentlessly. “What is it?” He asks. “What’s wrong with me?”

He sees Zatanna make nervous eye contact with Bruce. “It’s the same magical signature. How could you tell?”

“I couldn’t,” Bruce says, sounding defeated. “But from what he was saying…I had to check. I didn’t want to be right.”

“What is it?” Dick repeats, looking between them.

“Crisis,” Zatanna says simply, voice heavy.

Bruce actually freezes. He closes his eyes. “Shit,” He says.

That, make than anything else, scares Dick. “What is that?” He demands. “What does that mean?”

“We have to tell him—” Zatanna begins, but Bruce interrupts her.

“No we don’t,” He says staunchly.

“Then why did you call me if you didn’t want to…” Zatanna argues, and Dick has had enough.

“You put it out there,” He says. “So. Tell me. What’s Crisis and what does that have to do with,” And he gestures at his head. “This?”

Zatanna hesitates. She looks back at Bruce.

Bruce stares back at her, glaring.

“Forget him,” Dick says. “Tell me. Please.”

Zatanna sighs. “Well,” She begins. Bruce makes a gruff noise of disapproval. “It’s…well. It’s a long story. But to summarize: there’s been a few…events, in recent years. Multiverse events.”

Dick’s eyes widen. “Multiverse? Like…like mirror universe multiverses?”

“Yes, and no,” Zatanna says. “The details aren’t important. But. These events sent huge shockwaves over multiple worlds across the multiverse. I got caught up in the stream of events through…some sort of magical feedback. Because of that, Bruce knows too. And the Justice League. But other than that…our Earth was one of the ones that wasn’t caught in the crossfire, so we kept the information secret. Until…until now, I suppose.”

Dick’s head spins. “You’re telling me,” He says. “You guys had access to the multiverse for years? And you didn’t tell anyone?”

The voices in his head shout louder.

“We didn’t want to cause panic,” Zatanna says. Bruce shakes his head. “Since we would likely not be affected…”

Dick turns to Bruce. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He asks. “This seems like a big deal!”

“You didn’t need to know,” Bruce says shortly. “And honestly? Why would you want to. It’s difficult information to deal with.”

Dick can’t help but laugh. “What the fuck,” He says.

“Anyway,” Zatanna says. “I recognize the signature of multiverse connections. And…it’s all over you right now. You’re being suffused by the connection to not just one other earth, but multiple. You’re experiencing memories from multiple multiverses all at the same time.”

Dick places a hand on his forehead. “You’re telling me,” He repeats. “Everything I’m hearing here…it’s real people? Real thoughts, and they’re speaking to me?”

“Not speaking to you,” Zatanna says. “Just…connecting to you. They don’t know you’re there. It’s more like you’ve tuned in to a bunch of radio stations at the same time. And, well. It’s not ‘people’. They’re all…they’re all you.”

“Me?” Dick repeats.

“I didn’t know this part,” Bruce says, eyes narrowing.

Zatanna shrugs. “That’s what’s happening,” She says. “You’ve become…a focal point, I suppose. Of all your multiverse equivalents. They’re projecting onto you, and I don’t know why or how. You’re probably seeing their memories, or thoughts. But yes, they’re all versions of you.”

Dick feels dizzy. “So what I’m seeing…the memories that don’t make sense?”

“Are not yours,” Zatanna says. She looks grim. “Not this Earth’s version of yours, anyway. Earth-84, by the way. In case you were wondering.”

“What can we do?” Bruce says. “How do we fix this?”

Zatanna twists her mouth. “I’m not sure,” She says. “Yet, at least. I can call up Doctor Fate. Maybe Constantine? We’ll try to come up with a way to cut the connection without harming anybody.”

“I thought you wanted help?” Bruce says, sounding disgusted.

“You have got to get over the Constantine thing,” Zatanna starts, before Dick interrupts.

“What do I do, then?” Dick asks. He feels…numb. Empty. But also, much too full. “Do I just…do I deal with it?”

“You’ll have to,” Zatanna says, sympathetic. “We can’t risk anything that might make this worse. Try to deal with it for now. I’ll get back to you as soon as we have a solution.”

Dick looks to Bruce, who still looks displeased. “We’ll deal with it,” He says.

Dick just sits there. The voices keep shouting.

-

Dick insists on going back to Blüdhaven. Bruce is very much not happy with the plan.

He hasn’t had this bad a fight with Bruce in years. Dick is catapulted back years, to his adolescence and beyond, when fighting was Bruce was an everyday sport for them.

“Don’t be stupid,” Is Bruce’s argument. “You have a multiverse in your head right now. You’re seeing memories that aren’t yours. That’s dangerous. What if they overwhelm you? What if you lose yourself? Be smart.”

“I don’t see how staying here will help with that,” Dick argues. “I can only fight this battle by myself. Which means I get to choose how to do it. And that means going back home.”

In the end, Bruce can’t actually do anything to stop him (being injured or restrained could cause him to lose his concentration and fall into the voices, so Bruce doesn’t even try) and Dick stomps out, borrowing one of Bruce’s cars and hauling ass back to Blüdhaven.

When he gets home, he quickly scribbles EARTH 84 on a post it note and sticks it on his bedside lamp. Just in case.

-

Dick wakes up in a prison.

Well. Not in, really. It’s more like he’s watching a movie, seeing things move on a flat screen in front of him, two-dimensional.

He blinks at it. Where he is?

He sees a figure in a familiar uniform lying on the ground of a cell in the corner. The suit is black, with blue stripes running across and curling up around the fingers.

The figure groans.

Dick feels the pain and confusion from it like a physical thing. What the hell, he thinks, half hysteria, half curiosity.

Well. If he can help this Dick, why not? He’d have to have been summoned here for a reason, right?

He starts talking, and the man on the floor responds.

-

One morning, Dick walks out of his apartment to go to work.

He’s halfway to the station when he mindlessly looks down and just…stops.

He’s not wearing a uniform: just jeans, a tshirt, and sneakers. And that’s because he’s not a cop. He’s never been a cop. Some Dick somewhere must have been, but he’s never been. He’d gone on autopilot anyway.

Dick runs home, grabs his post it, and stares at EARTH 84 until his eyes tear up.

-

Dick’s phone rings. Startled out of his memories stupor, he leans across the kitchen table to grab at it.

“Hey Dick,” Tim says. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What’s up?”

“Oh, you know,” Dick says. A chorus of voices whisper Timmy. “Not much. Just Blüdhaveing away over here. What’s up with you?”

One thing Bruce and him had agreed on? Stay away from everyone. He knows himself, and knows that he’s not going to be able to act normally around them when he’s got so much happening in his head. And if they find out about this…well. There’s a lot that can do wrong there.

He sees the hypocrisy there, but he can’t bring himself to think about it more.

“Just Red Robining away over here,” Tim echoes. “Anyway, wanted to give you a call and see if you wanted to help with something. I’ve been chasing a lead with the League, and I think that—”

“League of Shadows,” Dick says, trying to covertly confirm that his memory of it is the correct one.

“…yeah?” Tim responds, then jumps right back into it. “They’ve been active again in Gotham, which, as you know, is a problem. I don’t want Damian involved either, so. You in?”

Dick sighs. “I can’t, Timbo,” He says. “I’m working on something super sensitive right now. I’ll give you a call if I wrap it up early?”

He hasn’t left his apartment in days. Hasn’t even read a news article in at least a week. He thinks.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line. “Okay,” Tim says. “I’ll wait for your call.”

“Great,” Dick says. His pounding headache increases. “Then I’ll just—”

“Wait,” Tim says. He sound serious. “Dick. Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Dick says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Tim’s sigh sounds tired. “Okay,” He says. “I’ll believe you. This time.”

Dick doesn’t know what to say. “Bye,” He says, then hangs up.

-

Dick wakes up, heart pounding.

He can still feel it: his stomach flipping as he falls, the momentary pain as his head smashes against something on the floor. And then blackness, darkness and goes on and on and on and on…

He frantically dials Bruce. “What universe are we in, are we 84? Are we 84?”

“I—” He hears the telltale signs of a car pulling over. “Dick—”

“Is this Earth 84?” Dick says frantically. He stares at the post it note like it’s lying to him. “Am I alive?”

There’s a short silence. “Yes,” Bruce says. “On both counts.”

-

“They need help,” Dick tells Zatanna at their daily check in.

Zatanna looks up from her notes. “Hm?” She asks, more sound than word.

“The other mes,” He says. “I can hear so many of them. But the ones I’m seeing? They need help. They need support. They’re suffering.”

Zatanna worries at her lip. “I was worried about that,” She says. “If they’re connecting to you, they might need you for something. Has anything been happening in the visions that you see?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, biting the bullet. “I think they’re hearing me.”

There’s a short pause. Zatanna looks shocked. “Please explain,” She says.

“I’m talking to them,” Dick says. “And they’re hearing me. Sometimes,” And he thinks back to that first memory, the one that started it all. “They’re seeing me too. But only briefly.”

“When did this start?” Zatanna asks, intense.

Dick shrugs. “Always been like this,” He says. “I just haven’t been engaging much. Not until recently.”

“Why?” Zatanna asks, alarmed. “You shouldn’t. The consequences could be…well. This is existential, here. You shouldn’t even be able to do this.”

Dick shrugs. “You know,” He says. “It’s not just people in here. It’s decades. Almost a century. Years and years and years. All inside my head. I don’t know if they’re dead or if they’re alive. All know is that they’re stuck in here and I can’t help them. The only thing I can do is speak with them.”

“I know,” Zatanna says. She sits down next to him. “You can’t, though. This is greater than them. This is greater than us. We all need you to keep the fabric of this universe, and all their universes, together.”

“I think they’re reaching out to me, though,” He says, practically pleading. “They…I keep hearing our number. Eighty four. Eighty four. Over and over again. And then that’s when I can show up, and when they can hear me.”

Zatanna looks even more troubled now. “You cannot keep engaging,” She says. “The fact that they can reach you at all is troubling. When it was just you crossing the multiverse, it was concerning. But if the rest of them can too? What if they start bleeding into each other’s timelines? That would have potentially disastrous consequences. You have to stop doing this.”

Dick nods. He doesn’t speak for the rest of his visit.

-

He can’t fight anymore.

Dick stares up at the ceiling, lost in the worlds in his head. He cycles through them, again and again and again, checking in. He sees how own gaze land on him, eyes widening, before he vanishes. He hears whispers crossing the lines between the many versions of himself, sees them making their way into their own heads.

He hears a knock, and it takes him to second to realize that it’s coming from his own universe.

He sits up so fast he gets dizzy. There, at the window, is Jason. He’s not wearing his helmet. Instead, he’s wearing his regular gear, and a Jasonesque frown.

Dick crosses to the window and pries it open. It sticks a little, so he has to push. “I have a door, you know,” He says, stepping back so Jason can leap inside. “It works perfectly fine.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “What, you’re telling me that?” He says. He glances around the apartment. “Whoa. Did a tornado go through here or something?”

Dick shrugs. He really hasn’t been up to tidying up much these past…however long. “Did you need something?” He asks instead.

“Touchy,” Jason says. He looks vaguely uncomfortable. “You been busy or something? Tim says he asked for support on a couple things and you didn’t come.”

Dick feels that familiar guilt rearing back up. “Well,” He says. “You know how it is here. I’m always working on something.”

“Clearly,” Jason says. He eyes the apartment again.

Dick feels itchy, uncomfortable. He feels the tug of the counterparts in his head. “Can I get you anything?” He asks. He searches through his brain. “I don’t have ginger tea or anything.”

Jason gives him a weird look. “That’s specific,” He says.

Okay. Wrong Jason’s tea. “You know what I mean,” He deflects. “Do you want something?”

“Nah,” Jason gives him a searching look. “Well. I came here to get your input on something but. Yeah. I don’t think that’s happening now.”

“Why?” Dick asks, even though this works out for him, actually. “What’s going on?”

“You’re asking me?” Jason asks, disbelieving. “Tim was fucking right. There is something very wrong with you right now.”

Uh oh. “What?” Dick asks. “Why?”

Jason snorts. “You kidding me? Look at this place. Look at how you’re acting. Have you even left this room today? Nightwing hasn’t been in the news for weeks. Maybe longer.”

Dick shrugs. “I have a lot of underground stuff going on right now.”

“And,” Jason barrels on. “You’re not making eye contact right now. Which is. Unusual for you.”

Is it? Dick lifts up his eyes, locking eyes with Jason. He prays that Jason doesn’t see the other worlds swirling around in his pupils. “There,” He says out loud.

“Dude,” Jason says. He keeps eye contact. “You have to be seeing this. What’s going on with you?”

Dick’s head hurts. “I know,” He tells Jason’s eyes. “I know it’s all weird right now. But…I can’t tell you right now. I need you to trust me.”

Jason just laughs. “Do you know how much like Bruce you sound like now?” He says. “You clearly need help.”

“I do,” Dick admits. “And I know you can tell that. But. I’m managing it right now. And I need to do it alone. And. When I’m done, I’ll tell you. But you need to let me do this.”

“Do what?” Jason says. “I don’t even know what you’re taking about!”

Dick breaks their staring contest. “Yeah,” He says. “God. It’s all fucked up right now. But it’s doable. Can you trust me on that, at least?”

Jason doesn’t say anything, and Dick is worried he’ll keep pushing—

“Don’t make me regret this,” Jason says. “Fine. Call me as soon as you can. I mean it.”

-

He wakes up in a dilapidated mansion this time.

“That’s new,” He says to himself, wandering the space. It’s all dark and cold and misty: something happened in this world. Something bad. “Where are you?” He asks himself vaguely. “Where are you, Dick?”

It doesn’t take long before he finds him: a familiar figure stands a distance away, looking far too put together for his surroundings, at least from the back.

The figure whirls around suddenly, and Dock catches a glimpse of a very familiar face. “What the hell…”

Dick waits for the moment where he’ll vanish from the other him’s sight, where he’ll fade into the background…

It doesn’t happen. The other him keeps starting at him, open-mouthed. “Hey,” Other Dick says. “Who are—”

“You see me?” Dick interrupts, eyes wide.

“Um, yeah,” Other Dick replies. “You’re standing right in front of me, of course I see you! Who..who are you? Why am I here?”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t this…this is the manor, right? Wayne Manor?”

“I guess,” Other Dick says. “I was just there, with everyone else…and now I’m in this one, and everyone’s gone. So. Yeah. I’m just…who are you? Why did you bring me here?”

Huh. This is new. “Um,” Dick says. “Well. I didn’t bring you here. You brought me.”

“How do you figure that?” Other Dick demands. “Look, just take me back, okay? I don’t have time to deal with this. Damian needs me.”

Dick’s heart pounds. “Why?” He asks. “Is he in danger?”

“What?” Other Dick asks. “No! There’s a school thing—anyway, I don’t have time to explain myself to you, bizarro-me. Just send me back.”

Dick frowns, examining the other him. He’s…different than the ones he’s seen so far. Brighter, almost. Colors deep and shiny against the backdrop. Almost too shiny.

“Um,” Dick says. This is…bizarre. Even by these standards. “I don’t really know how. Sorry.”

Other Dick’s eyes widen. “Well that’s just great,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “First I’m haunted by ghosts or whatever, now this? This is possibly the worst week anyone has ever experienced in the history of the world.”

Dick stares at him.

Other Dick shrugs. “Okay. So I may be exaggerating. But, hey. I think I’m entitled.”

Dick can’t help but laugh. “You’re kind of weird,” He says.

“That’s kind of a self own,” Other Dick says. “Considering. Either you’re me, or you’re pretending to be.”

“Can’t argue that one,” Dick says, shrugging. “Um I guess we can try to find a way to get you home? If, you know. I can figure it out.”

“Hey,” Other Dick says, tone pointed. “Of course you can! I don’t tolerate any downer self talk in this house. Even if it’s, you know. Post apocalyptic.”

Dick laughs again. “You know,” He says, before his vision shimmers, and he wakes up in his apartment with a gasp.

-

“Another one of them saw me,”

Bruce’s disapproving stare radiates over the phone. “I hope you didn’t engage,” He says

Dick hesitates. “Well…” He hedges.

“I don’t think I have to tell you,” Bruce begins, voice icy. “That you’re playing a very dangerous game here. Not just for you, for all of us.”

“I know,” Dick says. “I do. I would never put us in danger.”

“And yet,” Bruce begins, but Dick interrupts him.

“I’m helping them,” He says, almost desperate. “They need me, they need advice, they need support. And I’m doing that.”

“And you would risk—” Bruce begins, voice icy, and Dick quickly interrupts.

“No,” He says. “Maybe I was. But now. Now…after that last interaction? There’s something…” He cuts himself off. “It was different this time. But different good. I think I can figure this out. Maybe…maybe I’ve been going about this wrong. I’ve tried doing nothing, I’ve tried leaving hints. I think I need to be more involved.”

“Remember what Constantine said,” Bruce warns.

Dick chuckles. “A sentence I’ve never heard you say.” He comments. “Anyway. I know. Be careful in crossing the streams, I know. But he also said that I’m gonna have to break this connection on my own. And you know what? I’m gonna try it my way this time.”

“Just,” And here, unexpectedly, Bruce’s voice softens. “Don’t fall on your sword. That’s not your job.”

“It’s not yours either,” Dick responds. “And don’t worry. I got this, right? Who knows me better than me, anyway?”

There’s an amused silence on the other end of the line. “I think you know the answer to that,” Bruce says.

“I’m not gonna say you,” Dick replies. “Anyway. I’ll keep you updated, okay. You know I wouldn’t risk anyone if I wasn’t sure.”

“I know,” Bruce says, then: “good luck.”

-

“Oh, it’s you again,” Other Dick says.

Dick starts. He glances around the space: he’s in his childhood bedroom. A fire crackles in the fireplace, bathing everything in a warm light. “Huh,” Is all he can think to say. “I don’t have a fireplace in my room.”

“I’m just lucky, I guess,” Other Dick says. He sits cross legged in bed. “So. As fun as it is to see you again, did you want something?”

“Kind of,” Dick says. He crosses, sinks into the chair in front of his desk. “I wanted to ask something, I guess. More like talk things through.”

“Uh huh,” Other Dick steeples his hands. “Sure. I’m doing breakfast with Damian tomorrow so I’m gonna try in turn in early, but go ahead.”

“So,” Dick barrels on. “I’ve been looking for you again, cause, well. In summary, I’ve been seeing different versions of us, at various points in time. None of them have been able to see me, except for you. Why is that?”

Other Dick shrugs. “Are you about to tell me?” He asks.

“The other key difference,” Dick says, staring at the Flying Graysons poster on the wall. “Is I can’t figure out what you want. Everyone else needed help. You…you don’t. At least, I don’t think so. So why? Why did we connect? What did you need?”

Other Dick crosses his arms. “I think you’re missing something here,” He says.

Dick nods at him. “Go ahead,” He says.

“Maybe you called me to help you this time,” Other Dick suggests. “You said all of us needed help, right? You’re one of us too. So maybe…so maybe I was meant to help you?”

Dick thinks about it. “With what?” He asks.

Other Dick shrugs. “Hell if I know,” He says. “You tell me. Give me all your problems and I’ll psychoanalzye you right now.”

Dick laughs. “How are you so game for this?” He says. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re me, right?” Other Dick says. “Who knows me better than me?”

Dick hides a smile. “Good point.”

“Anyway,” Other Dick says. “Look. You’ve been running around solving everyone’s problems for them. What’s going on with everything else? Life? All of that?”

“Um,” Dick says. “Well. You know how it goes. We have certain priorities we have. Vigilante shit.”

Other Dick sighs. “If I may,” He says. “Don’t. You’re not gonna make anyone else happy nor will you be able to do your job if number one,” And he points to Dick. “Isn’t okay either.”

Dick shrugs. “I hear you,” He says, then: “Your world seems nice, by the way. It’s so…it’s so bright here.”

“Why thank you,” Dick says. “I think we do okay.”

“Not that, though,” And Dick gestures at the Flying Graysons poster. “You know, everything’s almost free of tragedy here.” He smiles sadly. “You know that’s one thing I’ve never been able to help with? I can’t change events, but this seems like it happens again and again and again. They die every time.”

“Yeah,” Other Dick also smiles sadly. “Well. Our version of us kinda depends on that happening. You can’t really change that.”

Dick sighs. “And Bruce,” He says. “He’s there every time.”

“Same reason,” Other Dick comments. “But you know what? We’re not so bad. Stuff happens, you know? But sometimes…we can make that work. And all you can do is be you.”

Dick sighs. “Damn,” He says, leaning back. “Does that work on the family? You’re not a very specific encourager.”

“Oldest brother superpower,” Other Dick winks. “Works every time. You should know.”

“I mean,” Dick shrugs. “I think you do that gig better than me.”

“Your world seems different,” Other Dick says. “So, I don’t know. Maybe your gig means a bit of a different approach. Whatever.” He gives him a significant look. “From where I stand, you seem to be doing okay. You helped the rest of us too, right?”

Dick nods. “Yeah, I guess I did.” At those words, he feels a tug at his head. “Oh,” He says. “I think this is goodbye.”

“See you around,” Other Dick says. He waves. “Or not. Hope you figure it out.”

“Me too,” Dick says, before everything shatters again.

-

It all happens very suddenly.

One moment, Dick is turning in for the night.

He’s toweling his hair dry, contemplating. The last few days have been mostly manageable. He thinks he might have cracked it, he just needs to—

And the voices vanish. Just like that.

Dick drops his towel to the ground. He clutches at his head, looks hard.

Nothing. Not a peep. His head is empty and silence and all him and blessedly quiet. He’d forgotten what quiet sounded like, and it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

Dick breathes out. He can actually feel tears in his eyes. “Oh my god,” He whispers. “Oh my god oh my god,”

He scrambles to his phone. The image of Other Dick comes to mind. Thank you, he thinks as hard as he can. He hopes it gets to him. Thank you.

He dials Bruce before the quiet can get too loud again.

-

“Earth to Grayson,” the Bluetooth speaker in his car crackles. “You there?”

Dick shakes his head. “Babs,” He says. “Sorry. I got a little lost in my head.”

“Can’t be doing that,” Babs says, laughter in her voice. “Especially when you’re driving. So. Just to confirm. 7, my place?”

“Confirmed,” Dick says. He signals left, changing lanes. “How many people did you manage to get?”

“Pretty much everyone,” Babs says. “Jason too. So. That’ll be fun. I’m gonna make him socialize.”

Dick laughs. “Good luck with that,” He says. “Anyway, I’m gonna pass by the manor and say hi to everyone there for a bit, then drop by yours after.”

“Woof,” Babs says. “Well. Good luck. Hope you make it out in one piece.”

“You and me both,” Dick sees the Gotham skyline in the distance. He basks in the familiarity. “To be honest, it’ll be nice to see everyone again. It’s been a little…lonely up in here.”

He remembers the days he had wished his head would stay quiet. He doesn’t regret that, but…

That connection, that ability to help? It had been a lifeline that was difficult to let go.

Bab’s voice softens. “I get it,” She says, then. “You sound better. I’m glad.”

Dick smiles softly. “I am better. I think.”

“I want to hear all about it,” She says. “You promised, right?”

Dick thinks of Jason. “I did,” He says. “You’re not ready, I can tell you that.”

“Ominous,” Babs says. “Anyway. See you soon! Don’t be late.”

“When am I ever?” He asks. The WELCOME TO GOTHAM sign passed by him in a swirl of green and blue. “I’ll be there. Promise.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

prompt: you’ve been feeling under the weather, and Byakuya fears the worst

It felt very awkward. Sitting here, in a thin robe, on a lofted table, waiting for the doctor to come back.

You had been very fortunate in your life to not be bothered with much ailment or injury. So, your experience with doctors was limited. Recently, however, you had been feeling more and more run down. Chronic headaches. Sudden bouts of dizziness when you stood up too quickly. You had brushed it all off, attributing it all to working too hard. But when you woke up and suddenly vomited even before breakfast, Byakuya had had enough and called for a physician.

“You really didn’t have to take off work.” You comment during the lull. Your husband sitting beside your table, stoic as ever, as you both waited on the doctor.

“Renji can handle it for a day.”

“You’re going to be sorry when it’s nothing and he’s burned the place down.” You reply maliciously.

“I would still like to stay.”

You huff and cross your arms. There was no get out of this.

Although you found this all incredibly tedious, Byakuya had made up his mind and that was that. You supposed it was just easier to humor him than anything else, but it was still so frustrating to waste time sitting here and being treated like a child.

The door opened and the doctor came in. You have half a mind to ask him what took so long. Since he was the private physician of the Kuchiki family, it wasn’t like he had other clients to see, but you decide against it.

“So what’s the diagnosis?”

“Well, first, let me assure you that it’s nothing to worry about.” He replied, with an off-putting grin that made your skin crawl. “This is a very common condition for couples. I’m surprised you haven’t come to me with this issue sooner.” Both you & Byakuya look confused and irritated by the doctor’s cryptic nature. He coughed once and apparently decided to be professional. “Lady Kuchiki is with child. Fairly early based on the symptoms and standard tests, but let me be the first to congratulate you both on an heir to the Kuchiki line!”

There was a loud ringing in your ears. Pregnant. Pregnant? You were pregnant. You were pregnant right now. Sitting here, in this moment, right now, you were pregnant.

“I’ll leave you two alone to talk.” You barely register what the doctor was saying, but the snap of the door hitting the frame seemed to break you out of your spell.

“Well….that is something…” You feel a hand wrap around yours in your lap. Feeling it shake against you.

You turn your head towards your husband whose other hand was covering his eyes. His lower face twisted in pain. A single tear escaping. “…Byakuya?”

“I’m so relieved.”

The sound of grief in his voice when he choked out those words almost made your heart stop.

You forget sometimes about Hisana, his first wife. Her picture was still in the shrine, along with his parents & grandfather, but Byakuya doesn’t like to talk about her. On the rare occasion he does it’s only ever about how she liked plum blossoms, and his guilt on not being able to save her from her illness.

Suddenly you felt very selfish. You had been fighting about going to a doctor for a simple examination, all the while Byakuya was probably terrified his worst fear was happening again.

You slid off the table in a single hop and come around to in front of Byakuya to wrap him in your arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this might be affecting you.” His arms wrap around your waist in return. Holding you tight. As if he needed to know you were there. “But…this is a good thing. We can be happy now. We know what’s wrong and…we’re having a child.”

“A child.” Byakuya repeated. A dampness was felt on your robe when he pulled away from your breast. Yet somehow, he looked as he always did when he turned up at you. “We have a child.”

“Your family will be so pleased.” You jest as you stroked his long hair. “I’ve finally fulfilled my destiny to the Kuchiki line. My life is complete.”

“Nonsense.”

His muttering was a testament to how little he cared about his extended family’s opinion. Duty and honor aside, he cared very little about anyone’s input than you and Rukia. And soon, you supposed, your child.

“Can we go now?” You ask now that you have gotten your answers. “It still all hasn’t sunk in, and I’d like to be at home in our rooms in case I spontaneously burst into tears.”

Byakuya smiled, then leaned up to give you a kiss before he stood to leave the room. Respecting your privacy and modesty.

You change out of the drafty robe provided and back into your clothes. Catching site of your form in a mirror and get a mental flash of it changed from what it was now to one swollen and heavy with child. You quickly finish dressing and make an insistence for Byakuya to take you home. Before the tears started. 

[parisawr]

John Dory x King Trollex

Word Count: 3624

Part 2/?

“Jeez… definitely should’ve laid off the punch last night.” He chastises himself, before wincing again as another wave of pain washes over him. Slowly, he sits up, palming his head in the hopes that it’ll somehow manage to dissipate the pain. His partying habits hadn’t at all changed since he was young, including his tendency to drink ‘till he, quite literally, dropped.

But, sitting here moping about his terrible choices from the night before weren’t going to curb the headache. He slumps off of the couch with all the grace of a bag of potatoes, and practically drags himself to the shower outside. Immediately, his eyes are assaulted by the piercing light of the sun, making him groan in annoyance.

Today was going to be a long day.

—

That morning, he tends to himself a bit more than he usually would, treating himself to an impossibly large breakfast and an ungodly amount of coffee. The hangover had managed to be mitigated to a dull ache at that point, and it’s then when he’s haphazardly chewing on a bagel does he remember that he had actually made plans for that day.

He’s supposed to meet up with his brothers, Poppy, and Viva that early afternoon! The hangover from this morning must’ve made him forget! Thank goodness that the worst of it was over by that point though. He quickly shoves the rest of the bagel he was eating into his mouth and pops into the driver seat. Rhonda wakes with a rumble, and the two are off.

—

When he makes it to the village, he finds the place alive and active, with many trolls out and about helping with the cleaning effort. He saunters through, and offers his hellos to some trolls he’s passing by. Now, the only issue he was having at the moment was that he couldn’t completely remember where he was supposed to meet the rest of them at. All he remembers is that it was some sort of patch that Poppy said he couldn’t miss.

This limited information does nothing to help him out though, and he’s just about to ask some random troll for help when he hears the enthusiastic voice of Poppy calling out his name.

“JD! John! Over here!” He hears a distant voice yell.

When he turns around, he’s expecting to see Poppy quite the distance away, but his eyes go wide as he sees that the princess is much, much closer. With no warning, John is suddenly taken into a bear-crushing hug as Poppy promptly squeezes the life out of him, his back popping. He tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a wheeze as he pats Poppy on the back. “Good to see you too, girly!” Is all he manages to squeeze out.

She eventually puts him down, just when Branch manages to catch up to her, and John stretches to ease the pain in his back whilst his brother chastises his girlfriend for nearly breaking it. Once he’s properly recuperated himself, he takes his chance to properly say his hellos.

“What is up, bro?” He asks, offering his younger brother a fist bump, which the other accepts.

“Nothing much. Just going around looking for you because I knew Poppy’s directions,” he says, making air quotations when saying directions which makes Poppy roll her eyes. “wouldn't tell you anything about where you were supposed to go.” Poppy dramatically sighs, and gently nudges Branch in the arm. “C’mon, don’t be like that!” She whines, laughing a little.

She then turns to John, a bright smile on her face as she excitedly takes him and Branch by the hand. “Now, let’s get going! Don’t wanna keep the other’s waiting, do ya?” She jokes, before practically dragging the two off.

—

The spot that the queen had chosen was a secluded little dirt patch, fitted with a few small sticks that acted as benches. Of course, they weren’t the only ones there. The place was seemingly a social hub, and was filled with the hustle and bustle of trolls hanging out together. He catches Floyd, Viva, and Clay all sitting together, engaging in casual conversation. However, the second Viva notices her sister walking alongside Branch and his brother, she perks up and raises her hand, waving at them.

Of course, Floyd and Clay take notice, and stop talking to look and over and see who Viva was waving at. When they see the group approaching, they’re quick to raise their own hands to wave at them too. Poppy returns the gesture with an equally enthused wave, whilst John and Branch offer their own, less ecstatic ones towards their own brothers.

When they make it to the bench, JD greets Clay and Floyd, taking them both into a big hug that has the brothers giggling. He settles himself next to Clay, whilst Branch and Poppy sit off to the side, next to Floyd and Viva. Once everyone gets comfortable, the conversations get started.

—

They all talk about their own little escapades from the party last night, with Viva and Poppy enthusiastically talking about the performed a menagerie of songs for the crowd, and how Branch, Clay, and Floyd, all took turns doing solo performances of various BroZone songs.

Eventually however, things take a turn as they start recalling the time they spent hanging out with their troll of the day. Poppy got with an enthusiastic country troll named Skipper, who excitedly showed her her impressive banjo skills that Poppy made lyrics to on the spot to sing to it with.

Floyd ended up with a hard rock troll named Riff. According to him, the guy was a bit weird, but man, could he execute a sick drum solo. He offered to teach Floyd the basics, and even offered to take him back to his place once the party was over so that he could teach him some more, though he respectfully declined.

Clay got partnered with a classical music troll named Sonata, and the two of them went on to bond over their shared interests in doing taxes, paperwork, and other boring stuff. JD was honestly struggling to stay awake while he recounted his story, but stayed strong.

He was honest in wanting to improve as an older brother, which meant that even if his brothers were talking to him about something he thought was boring or stupid, it was important that he listened. Because it was important for them, and showing them that he really did care about their interests was a great way of showing that he cared about them.

Anywho, Branch got partnered up with a funk troll named Bootsy, whose chill yet eccentric personality made for interesting conversations. Overall, it seemed that everyone had a pretty great time. John Dory was pretty content just listening for the most part, zoning out and occasionally jumping in with a joke or two that managed to make everyone laugh.

Which was why he suddenly got nervous when everyone stopped their conversations and were now looking very pointedly at him. His smile falters just a bit , growing a little afraid that he said something wrong. “Umm… what’s wrong, you guys? Why’d you, uh, stop talking?” He inquires, following his question up with nervous laughter.

Poppy answers, a gleaming smile on her face as she does so. “It’s your turn, dude! Who’d you meet?” Ah. That. John smacks his face hard as he remembers that he wasn’t just here as a spectator. Had he really zoned out that much? Whatever, didn’t matter now. “Right, right! Sorry, was kinda caught up in the good vibes we had goin’ on here, y’know? Hehe…” He jokes.

“But uh… my mystery troll was, get this, King Trollex!” He admits, a proud tone in his voice. And honestly, who wouldn’t be? How often does a troll get the chance to meet up with genuine royalty? And not only that, become friends with them? Poppy gasps excitedly, and the rest of them, minus Branch, immediately start asking questions.

“Oh my gosh, King Trollex is like, one of THE coolest trolls ever! Besides Branch, of course.” Poppy practically squeals, turning to Branch as she mumbles the last sentence. Branch offers her a shy smile before nodding in agreement. “I need you to tell us ALL the deets!”

And John Dory does. He does just that for the next HOUR or so. Hell, he even surprised himself with how much he was talking. It was just that, well, he couldn’t REALLY explain it. It was just that there was something about the king that just made him so interesting, something inexplicable. Something that apparently made the guy worth talking about for over an hour with little to no breaks.

He talked about everything, from the way he spoke to the way he moved so smoothly through the air, as if he was drifting through the waters in his home. He talked about his laugh, and how he’d always put his hand on his shoulder as if he was going to collapse if he didn’t. He even mentioned how his ears would twitch whenever a breeze would come through! Seriously, what was happening to him?!

By the time he’s done, everybody is making little comments here and there, poking a little fun at him being “obsessed” with the king, which he clearly wasn’t. Still though, he won’t deny that he misses the guy. “I just wish there was an easier way for us to talk to one another, y’know?” He comments. “I mean, the guys a king! It’s not like he can just abandon all his duties just so he can come up here and talk with some random troll.” The others nod in understanding, but John Dory doesn’t notice when Branch and Poppy glance at each other before nodding their heads, seemingly coming to some kind of agreement before turning their attention back to the group.

Eventually, the group starts to trickle out, with Floyd leaving to go meet up with Riff, and Clay and Viva leaving so that they could help their trolls better integrate into Pop Village. Which eventually left Branch, Poppy, and JD. By that time, the sky had begun to dim, an orange, yellow hue overtaking the sky as night neared its descent. John, noticing how late it had gotten, sat up and brushed himself off.

“Well, it was nice hanging out today, you guys!” He says, straightening his jacket. “But, I’ve gotta go! Rhonda is probably wondering where I’m at right now, and I’m starting to miss my baby, too. Catch y’all later, alright?”

At that, Poppy dramatically frowns and approaches him, giving him a much, much gentler hug than when they met earlier that morning.

“Awww, okay! Just be sure to make it back here by noon tomorrow so that we can start movin’ your stuff into the bunker, okay?” She reminds him, pulling away and patting his shoulder. Branch looks on with a worried look, and John notices, offering him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there, promise.” He replies, voice firm and sure. That makes Branch smile, just a bit, and he goes in to give his older brother a hug too.

When he pulls away, he feels like a little something inside of him had healed, and he hoped that from Branch’s small smile that something inside of him had healed too. He offers the couple one last wave, then turns around and begins the long trek back to sweet ol’ Rhonda.

However, he only manages to make it a few steps away before he feels somebody tugging on his arm. Confused, he turns around, and is surprisingly unsurprised when the troll in question is Poppy. He cautiously glances around, taking notice that his brother wasn’t with her, before glancing back.

“Uh… hey, Poppyseed. What’s up?” He questions, and Poppy just smiles awkwardly. “Oh, I just wanted to, uh…” she pauses, eyes trailing off as if she thinks of what to say. After a second or so, she perks up as if a lightbulb had lit up on her mind. ”…walk with you back to Rhonda!” John Dory looks at her skeptically, eyeing her up and down. It’s not like he minded her company or anything, it was just weird having someone accompany him back on his way to Rhonda. Guess living off the grid for so long will lead you to having some isolationist tendencies.

Poppy however does not falter, and she continues to look up at him with bright, earnest eyes. Inviting her along wouldn’t be all bad. The queen made for some pretty good conversation, so with a sigh, he nods his head. Poppy squeals, giddily bouncing in place before gesturing forward for him to lead the way.

The walk back is filled with small talk, with a few jokes being cracked here and there. A comfortable silence had settled between after a while though, and JD had started humming some random tune when Poppy spoke up. “So, you and King Trollex had a real great time, huh?” She asks. John Dory perks up at the name of the troll (Why did he?) and nods his head yes.

“Well, I just wanted to let you know that if you want to, I could totally set something up so that you and king Trollex can meet up!” She offers, and John Dory sputters in shock. “W-Where did this come from? Hehe…” He nervously asks, chuckling to himself. Okay, so maybe he did sound a bit crazy about the guy when he was talking about him during their little meetup. But he didn’t think he sounded that crazy…

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me! You were talking about him as if he was the only troll in the world.” She says, looking at him with a look that reads ‘really?’

And, okay, he’ll admit it. He does really want to meet the guy again. But the guys a king, and he’s got duties and probably wouldn’t be willing to meet up with some random troll he spoke to once. But… if Poppys’ offering, who is he to turn her down?

“Well… that’d be great actually.” He confesses, scratching the back of his head. “But uh… in case you haven’t noticed, the guy lives in the ocean. How would you even reach him?” At that, Poppy just smiles. “Well I had to tell him about ‘Meet Somebody New’ Day somehow, right?” John thinks about it for a moment, off-handedly goes “oh, yeah”, and then nods his head.

“I’ll just send him a letter about meeting you at the shores tonight, and then you guys can just talk for a bit, yeah?”

John stares at her dumbfoundedly, a shocked expression in his face as he takes in what she said. “You’d do that for me?” He asks carefully, and Poppy waves her hand at him, making a ‘pshhh’ sound as if he made a joke. “Of course! And besides…” she leans in, putting up a hand between the two of them as she whispers. “Don’t tell anyone… but the king told me he was gonna miss you, too.”

John Dory can not, for the life of him, figure out why his heart skips a beat when he hears that. He sputters for a moment, a blush growing on his face as he tries to fight off the violent urge to squeal like a little girl.

“I-I… um…” Oh jeez, he’s stuttering. Why is he stuttering? Why is he suddenly starting to short-circuit at the thought of the king missing him?! “D-Did he really say that? About me?” He asks incredulously, pointing towards himself. Poppy giggles excitedly. “Of course he did! You can even tell the guy when you meet up tonight.” She says, offering him a sly wink.

Now, it was his turn to envelope Poppy into a bear-crushing hug, and the laughter of the two ring out into the evening.

—

“I just wanted to thank you, again, for this Poppy.” He tells her earnestly, barely contained excitement laced in with his voice. The queen pats him on the shoulder and offers him a smile as they approach Rhonda. “Of course, dude! I’d do anything to help if it means making new friends.” She reassures him.

When Rhonda notices them, she jumps up from her slouched position, her tongue hanging out as she practically barrels towards them. John Dory lets out a laugh when his precious Rhonda gives him and Poppy a big ‘ol glittery lick. He looks up at her, smiling brightly, and takes her into a hug, which she graciously leans into. “I missed you, girly.” He whispers to her, and the armadillo coos as if to say ‘me too’.

He lets her go and makes his way around to the entrance, opening the door and prepares to hop inside. He pauses though, just as he’s about to slip past the threshold of the door, and looks back at Poppy, who’s standing expectantly off to the side of the car. “I just wanted to say… Thank you, again, for this.” He confesses, offering her a smile. She smiles back, and nods her head. “Of course, dude. Anytime.” She says, before trailing off to the side.

“Now get going, dude! Because the letter has already been sent and he’s expecting you at the shore in about an hour!” She says excitedly, and John lets out an exasperated ‘already?!’ that makes the queen laugh.

“Oh, and uh, before you go…” She starts, raising her hand to the side of Rhonda, stopping just before she reaches her skin. “May I…?” She asks, and John chuckles. Who was he to deny his precious baby some well deserved pets? John nods, and Poppy squeals.

—

By the time John makes his way to the Beach, the yellow-orange hue of the sky is gone, replaced with a dark blue blanket twinkling with stars. He cautiously gets out of Rhonda, looking around for signs of any other trolls before taking a couple steps out into the sandy beach. A shaky breath leaves his lips, and he pauses, confused. He doesn’t remember breathing so shallowly before, what was up with him today?

“Okay Rhonda, we’re gonna be here for a while so feel free to run around!” John Dory shouts out, much to the joy of the armadillo, who perks up at the opportunity to have some fun. She quickly scampers off, and leaves John Dory alone with his thoughts and the moon.

For some strange reason, he feels nervous. Why does he feel nervous? All he’s doing is just waiting for his friend to arrive so that they can chat. That’s all he’s doing. So if that’s all he’s doing, why does it feel like his heart is gonna jump straight out of his chest if he isn’t careful? In fact, why has he been feeling like this? The only logical explanation that he's got going on is the fact that he only gets like this whenever he talks about Trollex. But why Trollex?

What about Trollex made John Dory get nervous at the thought of even meeting up with the guy? The two were friends! Friends should not be getting nervous at the thought of talking to one another, especially after it’s only been a day since they last spoke! JD, frustrated, shoves his head into his hands and begins to mumble angrily at himself and his stupid, confusing mind.

He gets so caught up in his head that he doesn’t even realize when a certain techno troll washes up on the shore. In fact, he only does notice when the aforementioned troll calls out his name.

“John! Hey, man!” He hears a familiar voice call out, which manages to shock the troll out of his stupor with a yelp. When John opens his eyes and they settle on the neon colored form of none other than King Trollex, John’s heart practically comes to a full stop.

He was here. Poppy, that crazy troll, she really did it! John chuckles to himself, letting out a mock cough as he pulls himself together.

“T-Trollex, hey! How’s it been, man?” He asks as calmly as he can, as if he hadn’t had a mini heart attack when he heard the king call his name just a few seconds earlier. The king smiles, and pulls the rest of himself on to the shore, taking a seat right in front of him. “It’s been good, just really busy, y’know. You?” He answers, looking at him expectantly for an answer.

“It’s been good, a little busy but probably not as busy as whatever you’ve got going on.” He says, straightening his posture. He quickly follows up with an apology. “Anyways, sorry if this seemed a little last minute… I just wanted to talk with you again.” He confesses, looking down, fiddling with the sand beneath his feet. That gets a light chuckle out of the king, and JD’s heart flutters.

“Dude, it’s fine.” He promises, placing a hand on John’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice how the other troll practically comes to a full stop when he does that. “I don’t mind taking a little time out of my schedule to come and meet up with you! And besides, you're doing me some good, helping me take my mind off stuff, y’know?” His voice is sincere and genuine, and that helps calm the anxiety that’s been plaguing John since he first arrived.

But John can’t help but pray that the king can’t hear how loud his heart is beating.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52544056/chapters/133173169#workskin

[its-your-mind]

Chronic pain Ashton actually means everything to me. This punk rock literally went through more awful shit before the age of ten than most people will deal with in their entire lives. And then they turned into a FUCKING rock.

Raised in an overpacked orphanage, given the same last name as everyone else as a strange unifier. These people aren’t family, but they do share a surname and a piece of their history. In the end though, Ashton’s just one small hungry face among dozens. Alone even when in the crowd.

When he woke up one day and his whole body felt Wrong, felt hard and rough, and calcified like they had spent too much time out in the cold without water, do you think he told anyone at first? Do you think anyone with the power to help would have even cared?

I wonder if it ever stopped feeling uncomfortable to them, or if there’s always this underlying sense that one wrong move will send cracks up their whole body.

Then they’re out, and they finally found people they could rely on, a family that cared about him, not because of obligation, but because he was like them, and because he had strength and skills they needed.

His new family is united by their insignificance, and determined to stick it to everyone whose greed hurts other people like them, the ones left behind, the nobodies. Ashton learns what it really means to fight and to bleed for the people you love. He learns to take his pain and his anger and pours it into protecting his family.

And then. The heist that changed everything. Broke into the wrong house, opened the wrong box, and suddenly… a whole new level of pain, beyond anything they’ve felt before. Broken memories. Flying backwards. Crashing through a window. Falling, falling, falling, then… black. Pain. Flashes of light, of noise. Pain. “He’s dead.” Laying on a stone path. “Just leave em.” Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Milo’s voice. “C’mon, please wake up please, I don’t know what else to do…” and then… ice in their veins. Fireworks going off inside their head. And then… they black out again.

They come back slowly, and it’s not their senses that come back first. The first thing that tells him he’s awake is a shooting pain all up and down his arm, branching like cracks through stone. It feels as bad as the little voice in the back of his mind always told him it would. His whole left side feels… shattered. Broken. He’s certain that when he opens his eyes, he’ll see pieces of himself lying around him.

A flash, as though someone fired a blowtorch at close range toward his head. Another, slightly to the right of the first. And now that they’re aware of it, they can’t stop feeling it. It’s like the worst cluster headache they’ve ever felt, multiplied by a dozen by the burn of each pulse of energy.

Well, if he’s feeling pain, that probably means he’s not dead. They blink open their eyes and move to stand. His arm is still there, so that’s good. They begin to use it to push themself up…

*Crack*

They feel the powerful release of pressure more than they hear it. It travels from their shoulder all the way down to the tips of their fingers and then back.

“Gah, FUCKING SHIT.” They collapse back down to the table they were lying on.

“Ashton? Ashton! You’re awake! Don’t move, don’t move, you’re safe, you’re okay!”

It’s only now that they look around and realize where they are. Their vision feels… off somehow, but they can see it now. Milo’s workshop. They’ve cleared their worktable, and he’s lying on top of it. He turns his head to see where their voice is coming from and… FUCK.

“Don’t… don’t move too much. You’re uhh… you’re hurt real bad.” Milo rushes over from wherever they were and hovers behind his head. “How are… how do you feel?”

“Like hot fucking garbage. What… what the fuck happened to me? Fuck, that hurts.”

“The last job it went… bad. Real bad. You took… you took a pretty big fall, all the way from the top of the mansion.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well. Let’s check out the fucking damage.”

“No Ashton wait, you need to rest, lay back down…”

They ignore them as they push themself up again… fuck that hurts, but at least they know to expect it this time. They cautiously put their weight on their right foot, then their left. A similar crack as before sends pain up their leg to their hip, and they buckle, grabbing their head as it sparks again.

“Ashton please wait. Please, just take a second to… to catch your breath, at least…”

“Fuck. No. I’m fine, I’m good, I can fucking do this.”

He stumbles over to a big, shiny sheet of metal that Milo’s got hung up for some project or other, and looks at his warped reflection.

“Milo… what the fuck.”

“I… I… I did everything I could, but I’m not a medic, Ashton. I work with metal though, and… and with stone, sometimes, so… I melted down the gold we made on our last job and um… I sealed the cracks. In your skin, I mean. I had no clue if it would work; I didn’t even know if your skin works like normal stone, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

Ashton holds up their hand to their face. Zigzagging along the cracks in his skin, he sees gold, sealing the stone of his flesh back together. He runs the fingers of his other hand up his arm. It’s… huh. They’re used to their skin feeling… alien. Wrong. Not their own. But this is… this one’s new.

Even as he’s thinking that, another flash goes off in his skull, and this time, he sees it in his reflection. “What the fuck…”

They lean close, and when another spark lights up, he can see… through his own head. What the fuck, he can see his brain. It’s distorted, though they can’t tell if that’s because of the imperfections in the metal or because of what Milo used to patch them up.

“Yeah that… that I was less sure of. There was… a hole smashed in your head, Ashton. Too big to fill in with gold. Eventually I was able to fill it in and cover it up with slag glass - I had to do the same thing with your eye.”

And as soon as they say that, Ashton can pin down what’s wrong with their vision. The depth of everything feels wrong, and he can’t see anything on his left side.

“…fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck Milo, you… you saved my life. I… wait. What the fuck happened to the others.”

Milo flinches, and Ashton prepares for the worst. “They… they all ran. Out of the city. We were seen, and…”

“And they figured I wouldn’t fucking make it anyway. Right. So why the fuck are you still here?”

“Ashton I… I wasn’t just going to leave you. Not while there was still a chance to save you.”

They don’t know what to say to that. And so, they pull their shit together, and as soon as they’re confident they won’t collapse on the way, they go back to Hexum’s. He takes on the debt that everyone else was too smart to stay for. He doesn’t tell her about Milo.

They take on easy jobs for a while. They recover, as much as they can. Eventually, it becomes pretty obvious that this… these golden cracks, the hole in their head, the fireworks inside their fucking skull… this is just how things are now.

So he does what he did before. He fucking adjusts. He’d had to get used to discomfort and pain of stone skin; now these harsh cracks become a part of that alien background sensation. The fireworks go off when he gets in a fight, so they learn to channel that sharp pain into every swing of their hammer. This new pain joins the rest in the background noise of his life.

And so, just like he always does, he keeps fucking going. They wear their scars proudly, on display for everyone. They hold their head, cracks and all, high. They say look at me. I’ve already been the collateral damage of an uncontrolled elemental ritual. I’ve been thrown backwards out of a tower and left for dead. You think you scare me? Get in line. I’ve seen shit that would scare your nightmares. You think you’re stronger than me? Two seconds in my body would have you curled up in a ball on the floor. You wanna fuck with me? Just don’t.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 18

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 17 🍂 Part 19

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, p-in-v sex, (accidental) period sex, mentions of blood (combined with period sex? shocker...), praise kink situations and dirty talking Sy (mild), and some general awkwardness and unreasonable hormonal yelling.

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: @keanureevesisbae there you go, babygirl, more of your fave. I still owe up until 20... Strange...

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @omgkatinka @summersong69 @diegos-butt @beck07990 @peaches1958 @pandaxnienke

The floors you couldn’t have cared less about, but this bathroom. It was everything you had hoped it would be and included a shower that was a lot less cramped when you tried to fit twice the conventional amount of people in it. Patrick and Sy had worked really hard to get it done before the end of the week, and had somehow succeeded, which was great. You had ended up giving Sy the go-ahead to go nuts on his ideas - provided he’d fix it if you hated it, which he had promised you with a cocky grin on his face – which meant you now had a very dark bathroom that felt a little too luxurious to have in your own house. Now, every time you set foot in the room, you smiled – usually. Today was not one of those days.

“Sy!” The tears that were in your eyes were apparently also in your voice, because Sy’s worried face appeared in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Did you take the last Aleve?” Fuck!  How could you be out of painkillers right now?

“I didn’t,” Sy replied. That could have been a lie, but it also easily could have been the truth. Either way, he was the only living, breathing thing to take your frustration out on, and you were going to. Because you were in pain, bleeding, and hormonal. So, there.

“Are you sure?” Yeah, that didn’t sound friendly. You were definitely snapping at him. He didn’t deserve that. “Sorry.”

“Y’alright, Sugar?” He wrapped his arms around you – which was nice. You laid your head against his chest, trying to fight back the tears that were forming in your eyes. For the first time, it really dawned on you that you had moved in with Sy before your relationship had even reached the ‘peeing with the door open’-phase, and that that could be a problem. You wanted to tell him that your stomach felt as if someone was trying to cut his way through your guts with a butterknife, but suddenly he was just the brand-new boyfriend you didn’t feel needed to know about your period-related problems - or the fact that it was approaching at all.

“I’m fine, Sy,” you eventually said, “it’s just a headache.” You pushed against his chest so he would let you go and made your way over to your bed. Sy was right behind you, climbing in beside you and immediately pulling you against him, sneaking a hand underneath your pajamas. You could tell he found it odd you were wearing anything to bed, to begin with – and it probably was. When Sy’s hand found its usual place, securely holding your boob in place – not that it was going anywhere – you winced. It wasn’t pain, necessarily, although your boobs were definitely extra sensitive right now, but rather the extremely inconvenient side effect that you were… ‘super fucking horny’ would just about cover it.

“Sy, fuck off!” Again, you were well aware of the fact that this man had done absolutely nothing to deserve being snapped at like this.

“Y’know, Sugar,” he said, his voice grim, “the worst part of all this is that I think I might have a pretty decent idea of what’s goin’ on. But you’ll have my head if I dare to even suggest it.” He was probably right about that. Why was it so hard to talk about this?

“Sweetheart, I know you know what I’m tryin’ to say,” he said as he sighed, “will you just let me ask without killin’ me?” Now it was your turn to sigh, before reluctantly agreeing to what he was asking.

“Are you on your period, Sugar?” You winced when he said it – God knows why – and nodded, before realizing that was hardly an answer.

“No,” you said, “but my stomach and head are killing me, which means the festivities will start in two days.” You knew yourself; you were facing two days of this hell, then four days of extra-hell, and after that there was a slight chance you might function again. Sy moved his hand from your chest to your stomach, lingering and drawing patterns with his fingers until you grabbed his hand and moved it to the place where it hurt the most. He pulled you closer. The pressure of his hand felt so good it made you sigh with relief, especially when he started to rub the area of your stomach his hand was on. Soft moans crept over your lips as you finally forgot about the pain for a minute, but after a while you made him stop.

“Not good?” His voice was soft in your ear, his breath hot on your neck – that didn’t fucking help.

“So good,” you whined. When he heard your answer, Sy resumed his massage, and it felt so good that you didn’t want to stop him. After a while, you were squirming in his arms, grinding your ass into him. He chuckled softly.

“What do you want?” His tone was provocative, his question unnecessary, and you knew he was still going to make you answer.

“You,” you answered, plain and simple. There wasn’t much more to be said.

“I’m not in the mood for teasing, babe,” you said as Sy softly kissed your neck. To be perfectly honest, you were in the mood for letting Sy fuck you into the mattress so hard you couldn’t walk in the morning – but you didn’t dare to ask him for that. Nevertheless, you were horny, wet, and ready, and you needed this man inside of you now. Sy, in the spirit of the true gentleman that wouldn’t dream of denying a lady her wish, had you naked in a matter of seconds. His hand moved away from your stomach and settled in between your legs, where his fingers drew tight circles around your clit. He pulled you closer against him as he worked you closer and closer towards your climax. You felt his hard cock against your ass as he did. Eventually, the feeling of his teeth grazing you neck – exactly in that spot he knew drove you absolutely wild – was your undoing. He chuckled when you fell apart in his arms.

“Good girl,” he said softly as he gently guided you back down from your peak. Suddenly, you felt the head of his cock slide along your wet slit, and you threw your hips back, begging for him to finally thrust into you. A loud moan escaped you when he finally did, your walls clenching down hard on his cock as he moved inside of you.

“Wait,” you gasped when the second thrust hit you wrong. It took a few tries to find the perfect angle, but once you did, it was fantastic. Every time Sy pushed into you, he brushed past the right spot, and you tried your best to match his movements. Soon, you were not quite screaming his name, but moaning it very loudly nonetheless, as your own hand found its way between your legs and you worked your way towards your second orgasm, aided by the steady rhythm of Sy slamming into you.

“You gonna come for me, Sugar?” Sy growled in your ear. The words made you gasp – you were still not entirely used to the way he talked to you, but you were getting there… You answered him with a breathy ‘yeah’, which he replied to with another dark chuckle. “C’mon then, I want you to come all over my cock.” His words were enough to pull you over the edge.

“Fuck, Sugar,” he grunted as your clenching walls asked too much of his self-control, “you’re too fucking tight.” After both of you had taken a moment to catch your breath, Sy got out of bed to head out to the bathroom. You took a little while longer to move, because your cramps had the audacity to return.

“Alright, darlin’, now don’t freak out,” Sy said. He was apparently somehow unaware that that was probably the one sentence you didn’t use when you didn’t want someone to freak out, “but I think you may have started your period early.” Oh God, no! Nope, you were definitely freaking out. Or mortified. Was there really a difference? And if so, did it really matter which of the two you were right now? Of course it didn’t fucking matter! Fact of the matter was that you had just casually been bleeding all over your boyfriend’s dick, and that was… Well ‘awful’ may have just been the understatement of the century. You covered your head with the blankets in a hopeless attempt to hide from reality.

“Sugar, it don’t look like no crime scene, we’ll take care of it in the mornin’,” he said almost sternly, “right now we’re gonna take a shower, and then we’re just gonna go to sleep.” When Sy left for the bathroom, you stayed in bed until you heard the water turn on, and then you performed your own little inspection of the sheets. You had to admit he was right; it didn’t look like the scene of a double homicide – hell, you had more than once gotten more blood on a bath towel after shaving your legs – but you couldn’t shake the embarrassment you felt. That meant it was absolutely impossible to head into the bathroom; there was no way you could look Sy in the eye after this. Apparently, he had other plans, because he called for you twice, and then the door opened. If you’d ever get used to the sight of Sy in nothing but a towel – why did it have to hang so low on his hips? – you had no idea, but right now, you just froze. It was convenient for him; he just walked over to you and threw you over his shoulder like it was nothing.

“Put me down, please,” you groaned. This was even more embarrassing than the whole previous episode, and that was saying something. He did put you down; in the shower, and he didn’t seem intent on letting you go.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “and I’m sorry.”

“Sugar, you realize I seriously don’t give a damn, right?” No, as a matter of fact you hadn’t considered that option. Of course you could have deduced this from the laid back and practical way with which he’d reacted to this circus, but that was far too easy, right? Your answer must have been clear from the way you looked at him, because he continued, with a wicked grin on his face. “Honestly, if you were throwin’ any less of a fit about this, I’d suggest we go again.” You smacked him on the shoulder. “Sy!” Once again, he managed to make you laugh when you really didn’t think you were ever going to again. “Maybe next month.”

[leon-s-lut-kennedy]

Shattered

An unexpected surprise shakes Leon to his core.

Leon was used to pain; the dull aches, throbbings, sharp and piercing, and the silent kind. He was too stubborn and prideful for medications and therapy.

But this?

This was new. Different.

"...What?" He rasps. Tears were hot behind his eyes and his hands shook.

"Mr. Kennedy, you're pregnant." The kind nurse tending to him says. "Would you-"

"No."

He doesn't want to see. He doesn't want to hear. He can't even bring himself to touch his stomach.

The nurse nods, tight-lipped, "Well, your injuries have been treated. Though, we are going to have to dismiss you."

Leon knows she's not talking about the medical bay.

All he can manage is a weak nod. His knees threaten to buckle as he stands and the urge to throw up nearly consumes him. He was sent there (forced by Hunnigan) to get his wounds treated that were obtained from a taxing mission.

Not walk out with a baby.

~~

5 months, 21 days, and 249,240 minutes.

The seconds always escaped Leon.

The bathroom tub is cool against his head as he leans against it, his back to the wall. His throat burns from the bile he had thrown up.

The eyes of disgust, shame, sympathy, and everything else in between bore into him.

Everywhere he went. Strangers and friends alike.

Sympathy was the worst. He didn't need to be reminded of him.

Leon blocked out those memories - of their time together that night. Though, he remembers a sliver of golden light in the everlasting dark.

The light that was ripped away from him.

He slams his fist against the hard flooring out of anger and agony. Is this what he felt?

Torment? Fear?

Or was there satisfaction? Fulfillment?

Just what had he thought in those final breathing moments?

The bathroom is filled with wails as Leon scrambles for an answer.

~~

7 months.

The specifics were lost to Leon.

His eyes were glazed with water as he stared into the ceiling. Blankets and sheets were tossed around.

It was just him.

Kick.

Him and… And.

He never bothered to find out the gender. Or think of a name. Or build a nursery. Couples were supposed to do that together. Be together.

What use was Leon?

He shut his eyes as his stomach was under relentless attack.

Stopstopstopstop.

The word repeats itself in his head. The little being in him was just as annoying as-

He turns as much as he can on his side and stuffs a pillow over his head.

~~

8 months.

The tea concoction Ashley made was delicious and went down the throat smoothly.

What did it do? Soothe headaches? Help with sleeping?

Leon wishes he had listened.

"I think that's…it." Ashley says proudly. "What do you think?" She gestures around her. The nursery was bland, but the gold, red, and purple accents littered around the room gave it life.

Leon doesn't realize he's stopped breathing until he opens his mouth. A shake leaves him.

"It's perfect." He chokes out. "You did good."

Ashley's lips curl into a smile. She's mindful of his stomach as she wraps her arms around him, "He'd love it."

Would he? Doubt plagues him.

Leon tightens his arms around her frame, suddenly filled with dread that something will take her too. Ashley must sense this as she started to rub his back.

"You know, I…," She pauses, "I think about him too."

Leon's nodding as he pulls away. He takes his interest in the crib and runs his fingers over the white wood. Her voice is distant as he tries to block it out.

"You don't have to do this alone. I'm here. You have other people that are here."

She's right. And it pangs his heart because it isn't what he wanted.

Leon wanted him.

"I know." He tells her just as he's telling himself. The sentiment isn't all that convincing. He hangs his head down in defeat.

"Luis would want you to be happy." Ashley continues. Unmoved from her spot.

Leon sucks in a breath then. When was the last time he heard that name? It doesn't matter; that was his happiness.

What was the point of happiness if it didn't exist?

"I know."

His throat is thick as he fights back against sorrow.

"Thank you." Leon murmurs. "It means a lot."

Ashley hums, "It was fun. I think I have a knack for interior design. Don't you think so?"

He feels a smile beginning to crack his cheeks.

~~

9 months.

Shrieking echoes throughout the room. Screams so shrill that Leon wanted to cover his ears.

But there was joy. And relief.

"It's a girl!"

Tears are streaming down his face in ugly sobs. And he takes her in his arms, already so protective. Her eyes swirl of gray waves and there's a light - one he thought lost long ago.

Everything in his head vanishes into a boundless fog except for one word.

Leon's voice cracks, "Can you see her, Luis?"