#and he might tell me we are doing more brain surgery

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

Time to go monkey mode once more and spend all hours of the night researching VP shunts.

[queertransetc]

- ED trigger warning -

Being skinny ruined my life. If you’re thin and think to yourself, “why don’t fat people just lose weight?” Please read this

I was the “ideal fat” in the sense that I did everything skinny people wanted me to do. I tried every diet in the book. I exercised regularly. I worked with doctors and dietitians to figure out the best way to lose weight. But nothing worked. I did everything “right” to lose weight, and my weight stayed the same

But the thin people in my life kept telling me that I wouldn’t be happy, attractive, healthy, etc. until I lost weight. So, heartbroken, I came to the conclusion that anorexia was the only option left. It felt safer than bariatric surgery, and was obviously much more affordable

I became the perfect anorexic. 700 cal a day or less, except once a week I allowed myself 1400 cal. For reference, my body required at least 2800 to maintain weight, and at least 1800 to keep my organs and stuff fully functioning. Still, 700 a day, I persisted because everyone in my life told me weight loss was all that mattered. If dieting didn’t work, anorexia had to

And it did. My weight dropped all the way down to 110 pounds. I was skinny - underweight, even - in all sense of the word. The people in my life saw it as a miracle. The ultimate success story. My mother, my “friends,” my doctors, they all congratulated me on my accomplishment

When I confessed my eating disorder to my doctor, he told me, “that’s not the best way to go about it, but I’m glad you lost the weight.” My mother took pictures of me and sent them to relatives to brag

Okay, great. I was skinny. I did what I set out to do. But there were severe consequences

The most obvious was my joint pain doubled, maybe even tripled, to the point that I couldn’t leave the house without a wheelchair

I also developed several health complications, including fatty liver disease and extremely painful GERD. I had to see a handful of specialists and get an endoscopy because of severe stomach pain

My partner, who was the only person who saw my weight loss for what it was (a horrible thing that only happened because of an eating disorder), convinced me to enter a recovery program

For nearly a year, I relearned how to feed myself. I ate everything I was told to eat, nothing more and nothing less. My diet was 100% in the hands of somebody else

And I gained back every pound I has lost. All of the work to become thin went right out the window. It was proven to me that thinness and health were incompatible with my body. If I wanted to be thin, I had to forgo my physical and mental well-being. And vise-versa

Prior to the anorexia, I never once struggled with binge eating. I was naturally an intuitive eater, and I did a good job of having a well rounded diet. After the anorexia, after recovery, I developed a binge eating disorder. I had spent so long starving myself, that my brain and body got stuck in survival mode, desperate to consume any and all calories out of fear that I might starve again. To this day I struggle with binge eating

I did everything thin people wanted of me. I dieted. I exercised. And when all else failed, I starved myself. Now I have liver disease, stomach issues, and BED. Not to mention the loads of mental issues that accumulated as a result of my weight loss journey. During the throes of my anorexia, I had to be hospitalized for suicidal ideation

When you tell fat people to “just lose weight” you are suggesting they give themselves illnesses for which treatments are not always effective. You are asking fat people to destroy their stomachs and livers. When a fat person loses so much weight that they become skinny, they are likely giving up so much of their health in efforts to be treated like a human being

If you’re thin, do your part. Treat fat people like people before we tear our bodies apart

[oneluckydumbass]

Well, hello and welcome to the madhouse. @sock-1574, your wish is my command, here's a quick _v2 for this short. I wrote it at 10pm and it's unedited, forgive me if you find mistakes. Also, f!reader.

In his sleep, Simon turned to wrap an arm around your waist to pull you against his body, a completely casual move that he had done so many times in the past. He just wanted to warm up a little in the chilly room, because despite the thick blanket you insisted on using, he could still use a little help. But his eyes opened when he realized you weren’t there next to him. It was odd. 

When he heard something break downstairs, he jumped out of bed, his instincts kicking in right away. It didn’t sound like a window breaking, more like a mug or a glass landing on the tiles. What were you even doing in the kitchen a little past two in the morning? He called out your name as he walked down the stairs several times, but there was no response. He heard a groan, then some soft sobbing, which made him believe something was wrong. 

By the time he entered the kitchen, you were sitting on the floor with your head between your knees, a hand gripping the back of your neck as you cried. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Nothing, you didn’t even look at him. “Hey, come on, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” you mumbled through your tears. 

“What hurts?”

“My head.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m dizzy, I feel like I could faint any second. I wanted to drink from your favorite mug and I broke it, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t give a damn about that bloody mug,” Simon said with a nervous sigh as he took your hand. “The hospital is ten minutes away, it’s faster if I take you there myself. Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He helped you up, but after only a few steps, he felt your body becoming heavier as you lost consciousness. Without thinking, he picked you up and grabbed the car keys from the table by the front door. The hospital was close to their house, he would get there sooner than the ambulance would arrive. It was a miracle that no cop stopped him because he drove like some maniac. He was in a hurry since you were still unresponsive, and deep down he was expecting the worst.

What if you wouldn’t survive whatever this was?

Once he got there and a doctor noticed what state you were in, they quickly took you from him to run some tests on you while someone asked him questions. Questions he didn’t really know the answer to. You seemed fine when you had gone to sleep, all he knew was that you had this terrible headache in the middle of the night. 

They didn’t tell him anything apart from the info that they were doing some scans. He bought a coffee and sat in the waiting room, his mind in overdrive from the events of the past hour. And then that hour became two, and just when he was losing hope someone would finally tell him what the hell was happening, a doctor showed up and asked for your relative. 

“I’m her boyfriend, what’s happening to her?” he replied when they asked him who he was. 

“An aneurysm in her brain. Well, two, but only one ruptured. We will take her to the OR now and see what we can do,” the doctor explained. “It will take a long time, you might want to go home. We will call you once we know more.”

“I’d rather stay. And I’ll call her parents, I’m sure they would like to be here.” 

The doctor nodded then left to focus on your surgery. This left Simon alone in the waiting room again with his face buried in his hands as he tried to fight back the tears. He had to be strong. He couldn’t fall apart. He was supposed to tell your parents that you were in there because of a damn aneurysm. He knew those things were deadly, but you were still alive, fighting. 

After talking to your parents, he sent Price a message, telling him that there was no way he would leave your side for god knows how long. He was considering writing to Johnny too, but in the end he decided not to. The two of you were friends, he would be worried for sure. At least one of them had to stay sharp, especially if he happened to go on a mission before you got better. 

What he wasn’t expecting was Price showing up a bit over an hour after he had sent the message. The Captain greeted him quickly then pulled him into a hug. Simon had no idea how badly he needed that, how much he craved physical contact at this point. It grounded him, made him focus on the present, not on the possible worst outcomes. Because his mind had been full of what ifs, like what if you died, what would he tell your parents and friends? It would mean he failed to do the one thing he promised to do–to protect you from harm. 

“You’re spiraling, Simon,” Price said as they sat down. 

The lieutenant nodded. “It’s hard to do anything else in this place. She’s been in surgery for two hours now, I don’t know how it’s going, her parents aren’t here yet. What will I tell them?”

With a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, Price took a deep breath. “You wrote me it was an aneurysm. Those things can be hidden for decades. No one knew it was there, there’s no warning sign as far as I know, and let’s not forget that you brought her here in time. She’ll pull through, don’t worry,” he said. 

They sat there in silence for quite a while, but it was the sort of comforting silence that Simon truly needed now. And then, just when he was about to go and ask someone if they knew anything, the doctor showed up again. “Mr. Riley? She is out of surgery for now. She will need a lot of rest here in the hospital, and it will take some time to see if there is any kind of brain damage. She is okay now, but I need you to understand that a lot of patients with this problem don’t survive for long. We will do everything we can, and it is a good thing you brought her in so soon after the first symptoms. I am… cautiously optimistic.”

“Thank you, doctor,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, a nurse will soon be here to take you to her, but you can’t stay for long.”

Price patted him on the shoulder after the doctor left. “She’s okay. She’s gonna be fine,” he said with a supportive smile. 

Simon nodded. Yes, you were alive. And he would do whatever it took to help you recover. 

[opennwindows]

May I request a smoll eyeless jack x f reader nsfw story? Or headcanons?

eyeless jack x fem reader NSFW hcs

cw: 18+ content, medical kink, breeding kink, biting, blood, kinda disrespecting boundaries?? kinda not??, afab fem aligned reader

a/n: hey let’s all ignore my wildly different formatting for each post until i figure out wtf i’m doing lmfao. i decided to do hcs for this since i enjoy rambling and i have a couple fics already lined up and those take significantly longer for me to write!! i hope that’s okay anon, i just want to get more stuff posted :) also i threw a bunch of random ideas together for this so if you’d like anything else more specific please req again!

sooo we all know eyeless jack is a demon, right? to say dude is into some freaky shit would be an understatement.

- jack has a higher sex drive than most due to his demon tendencies. pair that with the rush he gets after a good evening of organ harvesting and you’re in for a Very Long Night. his stamina is also no joke.

- wear a short skirt? it’s getting cut off with his scalpel. accidentally slice your finger while chopping vegetables? well you better turn off the stove because he’s bending you over it. he senses you’re ovulating? he’s fucking you twice as much.

- if you’re into medical play and getting cut up with surgery tools he will be over the moon.

- if not, you’re gonna have to have a sit down talk with jack. he will do his best, but he can end up viewing you as just a lowly human at times. you’re gonna have to put your foot down sternly to fully gain his respect. he cares about your boundaries (somewhat), it just takes a minute to get through to his human side.

- on that note, don’t even dream of dominating him. he’ll laugh in your face and restrain you if the idea even crosses your mind. the thought of a weaker being telling him what to do during sex is comical to jack. he might let you ride him if he’s feeling lazy, but his clawed hands will be gripped around your waist as a silent reminder of who’s in charge.

- he’s into degradation. not the typical “you’re a whore” shit. no, this guy will take every chance to remind you that you’re just a fragile little human that’s only breathing because he lets you. if you feed into his ego, jack will reward you with his face between your thighs for hours.

- ooh let me take a moment to talk about this monster’s tongue. godly is an ironic term to describe anything involving jack but it’s the only fitting word. it’s long, slightly textured, quick and strong. he looooves to edge you until you inevitably break and the only words you can form are broken pleas. you’re gonna have to pry him off of you during your periods. he’s a little nasty

- jack will pretty much refuse to cum anywhere that isn’t inside you or your mouth. during sex, he tends to fully give into his animalistic demon qualities. meaning the only thing running through his mind is ‘breed, breed, breed.’

- big corruption kink. like MASSIVE. i think all the pastas have some form of corruption kink, but obviously the whole demon thing brings it to a new level. if you were a virgin when you met him, he’s gonna have to physically restrain himself from pouncing on you the second its brought up in conversation.

- let’s talk about positions. jack’s not really picky as long as he’s fucking your brains out but he does have a few favorites. mating press is almost always a winner since it feeds into his need to breed (i crack myself up). missionary is a classic that ensures he can have complete control. jack is also a fan of fucking on operating tables???? don’t ask me ask him, he’s odd. his least favorites involve 69, cowgirl, or pretty much anything that involves you on top of him. he doesn’t really get tired so doing all the work doesn’t bother him.

- will 100% spit in your mouth and he doesn’t care if you think it’s gross. get used to it sorry. if you’re into it then you’ve won.

- probably will throw a tantrum if he finds out you masturbated without him. he’s given you so much special attention and you still want more? well. he’s gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be too sore to even think about touching yourself. i’m praying for you girl good luck.

- LOVES TO BITE ON YOUR CHEST AND NECK. i cannot stress this enough. and he WILL draw blood, i mean his mouth is full of sharp teeth so it’s basically a given. bro will be fucking you and straight up take a drink break FROM YOUR THROAT. be prepared to never show your neck or cleavage in public ever again. unless you’re into that. then you go girl, we’re all cheering for you.

- jack thinks it’s hilarious to say terrifying unsexy shit during sex. “i can’t wait to cut you open and eat those delicious kidneys that belong to me….” you just look at him with your mouth open. you’d be better off ignoring his annoying ass he (probably) doesn’t mean it.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Zayne: Sugar Zaddy | 18+ Headcanons

So I didn't write this. You heard me right, this was not written by me. Instead my discord kitten, my lil meow meow, wrote it. Well...kinda. We were discussing something that happened earlier and she was like "Consider a Sugar Daddy though..." And then went off on Discord. She's too shy to actually post this herself, so she gave me permission to. The green text is my contributions on discord that she included in the doc. Small note: This is an 18+ post, however the first part is mainly SFW (except for one bullet in particular that warns with NSFW beforehand). The more raunchy ones are under the "NSFW" part. So again, this is 18+ but the first part isn't as bad.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ Warnings: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Spanking, Begging, Possessive Behavior (Hot), Zaddy /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ Pairings: Zayne x Reader

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Daddy Zayne , to whom if you ask him to cut your food for you because you feel like having a butler or doing something so you won't get your hands or nails messy, would do it immediately - He would peel and cut an apple for you, feed you an orange, just doing everything for you if you ask.

Zaddy Zayne who, sometimes when you beg enough or have been behaving well enough, would let you show him off - But he might tease you while doing so.

Zaddy who would feel bad if he picked out the wrong gift for you, because he's like, "Nah, my Jimmy Neutron brain really thought this was a good idea?"

Zaddy who grips your thighs when sitting together, even at restaurants.

Zaddy , as usual, Zayne doesn't like risk like public.

Clothing wise, would he let you dress him up to match with you? We’re not talking about him dressing us up because DUH, IT'S Zaddy . It depends on what you’d be wearing to be honest. If it’s something too flashy, then no, but if it’s something classy, he would definitely match with you. Not to mention that means when you’re out in public, if for some ungodly reason you leave his side and someone tries flirting with you, he just walks up next and you can just TELL y’all are together with your outfits.

It depends on what you’d be wearing tbh. If it’s something too flashy then no, but if it’s something classy? He would definitely match with you. Not to mention that means when you’re out in public, if for some ungodly reason you leave his side and someone tries flirting with you, he just walks up next and you can just TELL y’all are together with your outfits

Zaddy who, when someone mocks you, just pulls you closer subtly showing off. If you seem upset, he buys you double the things he usually buys for you.

Zaddy who uses his busy schedule against you and in your favor. Sure, he may take off some activities to spend time with you, pampering you, but he also uses it against you when you're most needy, suddenly taking over Dr. Grayson's next surgery just because he is a "kind soul." This man likes and loves hearing you beg, and it gets worse if you try to backfire it on him. Trying to make him jealous or sending him a naughty picture will just make him take even longer, but not enough to make you cry of frustration or simply just get turned off, just the right amount because after all, he knows you like the back of his hand and knows how to keep his pretty princess behaved and happy.

Zaddy who would give you another copy of his credit card.

You wanna live in another place? Sure, as long as it's not too far from him

Moving into the apartment under his.

NSFW: You wanna travel? Gotta squirt five times to make him consider it and make up for lost time…time which will also be taken back when you come back.

Zaddy who buys you a present wherever he goes out, going out of his way to buy something for you after surgery before going back to the airport.

Zayne who dislikes you talking back.

Zaddy who cooks for you.

Zaddy who (this is more based on me, I dunno you) pampers you triple when you bake for him.

Zaddy who, if you practice any kind of sport, isn't the kind of pervert to just watch to get off, but maybe occasionally, depending on the mood, if you're doing yoga in such a position, will not need to bend you down since you already do it for him.

Zaddy who occasionally starts the act if you say you're not in the mood, will give you tons of kisses just so you don't feel bad.

Zaddy who loves when, during shopping sprees, you make a quick stop by the pastry shop for a sugary treat or ice cream.

Zaddy who is the silent jealous type but is a gentleman and would not take it out on you.

Zaddy who thinks it's just established how your relationship with him works and if you ever doubt it, he will make you learn it word by word.

And if you say, "Heck nah, get away," he will understand your wish and get away.

Zaddy who has nurses and girls after him, and he gives them the cold treatment.

Zaddy who, depending on his mood, sticks to you, gives you the side eye if it's a dumb jealousy, makes you suck it up or indirectly humiliates the other person.

Now, would Zaddy brag about you? Like comparing you with others (you on top, of course, you're his pretty princess). He knows you're the best so he doesn't need to brag or compare. He may compare to make you feel better if you're sad though. It's literally the phrase, "if you need to talk about power then you don't have it." I think dating Zayne would be 90% of your relationship, married life comes later, after all, he's just like your husband the day he started pampering you.

Zayne who, when he has a crush on you, gives you mixed gifts, some little cheap things and some very expensive, to see your reactions and study your reactions to win your heart.

Zaddy wouldn't let his money do all the work though; this man will rizz you up HARD.

Zaddy who does his skincare with you 💋.

Zaddy who, if you ask him to or if you're tired, will do your skincare for you.

Zaddy who cuddles you the first night even if he did or didn't rail you before sleep.

Zaddy who, if you're a gamer ass, as long as you keep him happy, will buy you the best PC or consoles.

Zaddy who isn't interested in video games but if it's a cozy one and you ask him to play, he will and will surprise you with little things in the game.

NSFW

Sugar daddy Zayne who gives you sweet kisses when you cry while he's pounding you ❤️ - Telling you how good you are for being able to take him. Telling you how it’s fine if you can’t walk tomorrow, he’ll carry you wherever you need to go.

Zaddy with both cock warming kink and breeding kink.

Zaddy who wants to beg for you to try and come back and tried just one time against his ego to get you back with gifts, and if it works, he's going to hold himself back until you finally have sex with him starting it.

Zaddy who, if you catch him not in the mood, will keep it in mind later to give you what you need and make up for it.

Zaddy who, duh, loves edging you; it's Zayne .

Zaddy who, if he's desperate, would have masturbating sessions with you over the phone.

Zaddy who has a secret folder on his phone for your intimate photos.

Zaddy who, of course, loves seeing you in lingerie.

Zaddy , the panty stealer, when work hits too hard.

Zaddy , the mother who nudges you to go out by going shopping if you've been in too long and fucks you to keep you inside if you've been out too much.

Zaddy who would tie your hands and have you sit on his face while he eats you out *

This guy has all the cake he ever needs so he doesn't need yours for anything other than spanking..

Zaddy who, if you spanked his butt like in the bongo headcanons, would, depending on his mood, have you lay down on your lap and slap your ass or would just give you the side eye and retrieve the gift he was going to give you, making you beg for it. And if you're masochistic, make you beg (optional, depends on horniness).

Zaddy who seems to be the most horny one but in reality is not. Zaddy , that has you start reaching for his cock.

Zaddy who reeducates your bad habits by edging you or making you cum twice the amount you messed up.

So there it is! All written out and lovely! Thanks again to my dear friend who just went feral over this idea. She gave me permission to let y'all know who she is so it's @nati-cutie-patootie she did such a good job, ya? I think she did.

[finelinevogue]

family will get you through

summary - you go through a life changing operation but you have a strong family to get you through it

warnings: brain tumour, anxiety, self deprecation, swearing, kissing n fluff, hopeful ending, i wrote this 2 years ago so it’s not up to my usual writing standards unfortunately :(

word count: +6.8 k

pairing: husband/dad!harry x reader

Everything was occurring like normal. You were making the kids lunches for school as usual. You were cleaning the breakfast away as usual. Harry was on his last day of tour. Yet, somehow, within 24 hours, your life was going to be turned upside down.

For the worst.

During the hoovering of the carpet you heard your phone ring. After spending 10 seconds to find the bloody thing you finally picked up.

During the hoovering of the carpet you heard your phone ring. After spending 10 seconds to find the bloody thing you finally picked up.

"Hello?" You asked, not recognising the number.

"Hi there. Is this Y/N Styles speaking?" The male voice asked, on the end of the line.

"Yes it is." You answer.

"Hiya Y/N. It's Dr Hughes here." He introduced himself, but it didn't comfort you any more knowing who was on the other side of the phone. Your doctor never calls you unless it's bad news. The last time they called, it was because Sofia might have had suspected appendicitis. She didn't, but still the doctors remained the bearers of bad news.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr Hughes?" You asked politely, with a hint of sarcasm dripping in your tone.

"Unfortunately I bring bad news, again, Mrs Styles." He began, making you gulp down your worries unsuccessfully. "The tests that we ran on you, a while back, came back and unfortunately there is a problem." Your heart relaxed slightly that there was nothing wrong with your children or your husband.

"Okay." You urged him to carry on, disliking all the tip-toeing sounds the problem.

"Mrs Styles, there is no easy way of me telling you this." Dr Hughes took a deep breath before announcing the news. "You have a brain tumour, Y/N."

Luckily you were stood by the sofa and were able to collapse on that, when your legs gave way, otherwise you'd have landed on the floor. You covered your hand over you mouth to muffle any noises that threatened to escape, as you were in pure shock.

"It's not an overly large tumour and it will be able to be removed, with quick and efficient surgery, which we can offer, but we needed confirmation that you are willing to go through with this first." Your head was spinning and you couldn't tell up from down for a minute. It took a few calls of your name, from Dr Hughes, to pull you back.

"Um... Sorry. Is there any chance I can come talk to you in person?" You sniffled, but cleared your throat to try and stay strong over the phone.

"I'm free all tomorrow morning, Mrs Styles. Please feel free to drop in at any time." He kindly offered.

"Thank you." You said.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Styles, but if we act quickly you'll be alright. I guarantee it." He assured you and with you final goodbye you hung up the phone.

With him no longer listening to you over the phone you were able to break down in tears. You never thought something like this would be happening to you, but yet here you were. With a brain tumour, no less.

Your cry's were starting to hurt your chest from how heavy they were. You couldn't calm yourself down and all you wanted right now was Harry. Harry... What would he think about all this? Would he leave you? You hated that your brain went straight to that question but that was the hard hitting reality of the situation.

You tapped on Harrys number and called him, hoping he wasn't too busy. He always told you, whenever you needed him, no matter what time, he'll always be there. But would he still want to be there when he finds out his wife has a brain tumour?

After two rings he picks up.

"Hi love, everything okay? You're lucky I was up otherwise I would've been asleep!" The soothing tones of his voice calming you down.

"Shit, H, i'm so sorry." You sobbed loudly down the phone, not being able to bravely hold it in anymore.

"Hey, hey. It's fine Y/N/N. No need to cry over it love." He coos, not fully understanding why you were having a full breakdown over potentially waking him up.

"No. No i-it's not that H." You lean on your knees and cup your hand over your temples to soothe some of the pain, from the headache that was forming.

"Okay then. What's wrong baby? You can tell me, it's alright." His voice slightly trembling, hating the sound of you heavily crying without him there to comfort you.

If you did ever cry like this either Harry was right beside you, hugging you like there's no tomorrow, or you'd get through it by yourself - if he was away. You felt selfish dumping your problems on him when he wasn't right there to comfort you through it. Today was even worse, though. Today was Harrys last concert for the Love on Tour, tour, in L.A. Not only did he have a duty to preform to his adoring fans, he was also thousands of miles away. He wouldn't be able to do anything, other than offer some calming words, but somehow, this time, you didn't see how that was going to be enough.

"I got a call from Dr Hughes." You began and taking a deep breath before continuing, only imagining where Harry's head was at with those words. "H, i'm so sorry. He - uh - he told me I have a brain tumour. He said, with surgery, it can be removed but I need to act quick. I-i'm going to see him tomorrow, but I just needed to tell you."

You expected Harry to cut in at some point, but there was only silence. He was only ever quiet when he was shocked or had nothing left to say, and it terrified you that he was feeling that way.

"Harry?" You trembled out, wondering if he was even still there.

You heard him clear his throat before talking. "Um, yeah okay."

You were taken aback by how little words he was using. You couldn't work out whether you'd rather have had him say nothing at all. Your heart strings started to break a little at the thought that he was, most likely, thinking of different ways to divorce you and so forth. His life was too precious for him to be left with a damaged wife. God knows what you'll be like after surgery, and Harry didn't need to be stuck with looking after you when he should be touring with his adoring fans.

"Sorry, H." You murmured before hanging up, knowing he wouldn't have anything to say back. You regretted not wishing him look for his last concert date tonight, but it wasn't at the forefront of mind right now. You knew he would smash it anyways - he always did.

What if that had been your last goodbye?

You placed your phone on the coffee table and hysterically cried to yourself.

••••

A few hours later and you had called your parents over, after telling them, to pick the kids up from school - seeing as you were too emotionally unstable to be doing so. It made you feel like such a disappointment not being able to be strong enough to pick up your children, but you were worried you wouldn't be able to focus when driving - and you wouldn't put your children in danger.

Your parents had arrived as quickly as they could and spent hours reassuring you that you'd be okay, and that Harry loved you too much to ever say goodbye. You had a hard time believing them though, considering Harry had said all of two words to you - none of which implied that he still loved you and was going to be there for you through it all.

It was times like this when all you wanted, and needed, was your Harry, but unfortunately that just couldn't be the case. If Harry were to leave you, you wouldn't know what to do. You have kids and you always promised Harry that none of your kids would be raised from a broken home - you just couldn't put them through that. Yet, now, it seems inevitable.

After the kids had got back from school and had dinner, which you sat around for but didn't have anything, you and your children had cuddled up to watch some Netflix. Your parents had gone home, telling you that you just needed some time alone with your children. They never questioned what was wrong, but they could tell something was up. It took watching 5 episodes of The Big Bang Theory until your children were all on the verge of sleep, and so you'd shuffled them all along to bed.

"Mummy?" Sofia asked as you turned off her main light and turned on her bed light. You walked over to her single-bed, that was decorated in princesses and flowers, and sat down next to her.

"Yes sweetheart?" You answered. Sofia had been quiet all evening, but you just assumed she had been tired.

"I missed you picking me up today." She told you with her sad eyes. You brushed her hair off her face and behind her ear.

"I know. I missed you too, but mummy had some news today that wasn't very nice and so I didn't want to upset you with me being upset." You told her, not feeling like you had to hide anything from your children.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asked sincerely, with a little wobble of her rosy lips to signify she was worried about you. You hated that your children had to check on you, and yet your husband hadn't, but you also appreciated it greatly.

You thought about how to answer her question, because it was hard to answer. Of course you were going to face complications and re-percussions, later in time, after surgery, but you also would if you didn't have surgery. It was just whether or not something went wrong in surgery, or it actually turned out the surgery was no longer viable. You wanted to tell her so badly that everything would be okay, but you also couldn't lie to her.

"Mummy's going to be just fine." You turn your head to see your gorgeous husband standing in the doorway, looking like he'd been crying due to the red puffy eyes. They were probably similar to yours, however you'd tried to hide yours from your children.

As soon as you made eye contact with Harry the tears fell freely down your face. There was no stopping them either. Emotions were flying all over the place, but the one that stood out the most was relief. You thought you'd have a runaway husband but instead he was right here. He'd flown all the way from L.A. just to see you. You had no idea what was happening with the tour but you couldn't think of anything other than the man stood in the hallway.

"Daddy!" Sofia screamed, like she'd just gained 100 pounds of energy, and jumped out of her bed to run to her dad. Her little legs could only make her run so fast but when she got there Harry was ready to scoop her up in his warm embrace.

"Ohhh I missed you, my love." Harry pressed light kisses all over her face and Sofia started squirming in his grasp, giggling as Harry continued to attack her.

"Did someone say dad is here?" You heard Will day from down the hall, but you'd buried your face in your hands, in disbelief and shock, to truly acknowledge what was going on.

You listened to the sounds of them reuniting and getting bombarded by kisses from Harry, until it got a bit too overwhelming. Harry was actually here and that was something you thought would be a distant dream, and hearing him play with your children was such a joyous thing to hear. You decided that you needed a minute away, and to yourself.

"Excuse me." You announce softly, working your way past the pile of people that were now on the floor. You wanted to laugh at how your children had tackled Harry down to the ground, but your tears prevented you from feeling that way.

You walked to your bedroom, and outside onto the small terrace that was attached to it. It let you have a stunning view of the city in the distant, but you could also had the pleasure of having the rolling hills, and stunning fields of gold, in the foreground. You shut the sliding door over, trying to get the atmosphere as quiet at possible. You rested your elbows on the stone railing and placed your hands on your forehead, before continuing your hardened sobs. Ever since the dreaded phone call this morning, you don't think you've had a second, after it, where there hasn't been a teardrop on your skin.

After 5 minutes, give or take, you heard the sliding doors open. You didn't need to turn and look to see who it was to know who it was - his comforting presence alone telling you.

You turned around quickly to see he had been stood infinitely close behind you, probably apprehensive about touching or comforting you. The way you immediately brought your arms around him, to give him a hug, took him by surprise, but within seconds he was embracing you back and tighter than ever. You buried your face in his chest as the tears continued, but he didn't seem to mind at all.

After a minute or two, hugging in comfortable silence, you tilted your head up and looked from his eyes to his gorgeous lips. He noticed you looking and started to lean himself down slowly, still being wary of how you were feeling towards him. You couldn't take being away from him any longer, and so cupped the back of his neck to bring him down faster.

The feeling of his lips on yours made you feel invincible. You forgot about all yours worries when he was pressed close against you. It was as if nothing else mattered, but only you two. He made you forget that he had been a jerk on the phone. He made you forget that you had a bloody brain tumour. He made you forget every small detail you'd been worrying over for the past 14 hours or so. Even though it only lasted for a minute; he made you forget.

The sound of smacking lips detaching one another allowed you to breathe again. He was good at making you feel breathless and savouring every minute moment he had with you. You both stared in to each others eyes and let them talk to one other. You could tell by his emerald, doe, eyes that he was unimaginably sorry, and he could tell from yours that you forgave him no questions asked.

"I thought you'd left me." You honestly let him know.

"Never, baby. I promised i'd always be there for you, and some fucking tumour, isn't going to change that." You loved that Harry could find the light in a situation like this. It's one of his charming qualities that never ceases to amaze you.

"I have th—"

"Daddy?" You hear from behind you both. You see Sofia standing there, in her cute lilac polka-dot onesie, looking at Harry with adoring eyes. She hasn't seen him in a month or so, and so seeing him, earlier than expected too, has turned her into a little sheep to follow Harry - wanting to spend every spare minute with him.

"Sof." Harry sighed, reluctantly detaching himself from around you. "I told you, sweetheart, that I need to make sure mummy's okay for a bit, alright?" He reminded her, his words filling your heart with so much love and happiness you thought it might burst.

"But daddyyy..." She whines, stomping her foot delicately on the floor.

"No Sof. It's not fair on mummy is it?" He crouched down to her level to caress her soft cheeks.

"H, it's alright. I'm alright. Go and see to her, and the boys too if they want you. I can wait."

Harry stands back up, after seeing how his daughters expression changes to a much more excited one. He walks over to you and cups both your cheeks with his large, veiny, hands.

"You're so annoying, you know that right?" Harry teases you, probably frustrated that your intimate moment, that could've turned into something more intimate, had been interrupted. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips and you pushed him along to go sort out his children.

An hour and a half later you and Harry were sat in the bath together. You were layed back against his chest and his arms, along with yours, were resting on top of your stomach. Your legs were interwoven and your head was back against Harrys shoulder, his cheek to the top of your head. You'd argue that this is more intimate that anything else - to be so desperately close to one another, and yet still hold back from all pleasurable interactions. Sure, the moments leading up to you both needing the bath had been beautiful and raw, sending all kinds of sensations flying through your body, but this was something special.

If you could freeze time, this is where you'd like to be frozen.

"Will you get angry at me if I apologise again?" Harry asked, nodding his cheek further into your hair - which apparently smelt like 'heaven' according to Harry.

"Most likely." You chuckled, knowing that you wouldn't but you'd become irate about it. You'd lost count of the amount of times that Harry had apologised to you this evening, but he said he couldn't ever put a number on how many times he should apologise because it would be too big. He vowed to use the rest of his life to show how he'll love you till the end of your time, and prove he never intended to leave you. You thought he'd proved himself enough over the past few hours he's been back, but you weren't going to stop him from showering you in more love.

"Sorry." Harry buries his head in your shoulder to hide away from your pretend wrath.

You move around in the warm, soapy bath water until you're straddling his legs. The bath water sloshed around as you moved, but luckily you were agile enough to not let any spill overboard. Harry couldn't take his eyes off your mesmerising body, and you had to tilt his chin up for him to lose contact with your chest and gain contact with your orbs.

"You're the worst." You tease him for apologising to you, again, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest up against his - hissing at the cold contact against your boobs.

"Don't I know it." He rolls his eyes and gives you a smirk, holding on to your back tighter.

"But I couldn't love you any less." You tell him, kissing his lips quickly but enough to send butterflies through your body.

"Hmm. Well that could be a compliment, depending on how much you love me already?" He asked, pointing out the flaw in your nonsense.

You thought for a minute before answering. "I love you more than you love me." You slyly smirk, knowing how badly he hates comparing your love. He's such a sore loser and finds it bruising to his ego when you say you love him more than he does you. He belly laughs at your statement, not being able to control himself.

"Not only did you just deflate my ego, and boost your narcissism, but it's cute that you actually believe what you said." Harry starts of lightheartedly but you can tell he became more serious towards the end.

"But I—"

"I don't think so Mrs Styles." He brings you even closer, which you thought was impossible.

"I love you H."

"I love you... even more." Harry returns, and you drop your head, giggling, on to his shoulder from giving up with him.

•••••

2 months later and surgery had been successful.

The day of the surgery you'd never felt more nervous for anything. The nerves you felt that day even beat your pre-wedding nerves. It was such an intense and overwhelming feeling, and none of it would have been possible if it weren't for Harry being there for you the whole time. Your children were all superstars too. They continuously showered you in love, and although it was Harry buying the gifts, they treated to you flowers whenever you were down. Whether it was a bunch of roses, a bouquet of different flowers or a single sunflower to plant in the garden, it always managed to cheer you up.

You had surgery a couple of days ago and you were still in and out of sleep, not having spoken a word yet. The morphine dosage that they gave you, along with all the other concoctions of medicine they gave you, had been really strong. The doctor had explained to you, after surgery, how you might not come around, properly, until a few days after surgery. No doubt Harry stayed by your side through all of it.

Lying subconscious in bed allowed you to think a lot. It terrified you as to how you were going to be after surgery and how dependent you were going to have to be on other people for a while. Apparently your legs and arms become really weak, because you brain has been out of action and a small proportion has been attacked by a tumour, and that scared you. You didn't want your children to see you helpless - what kind of example would that set to them? You probably would have to be fed for a small amount of time, and either use crutches or maybe a wheelchair, and you, being the strong and independent woman you are, hated that.

Today was different. You could feel it.

You woke up, from your light slumber, with a heavy presence on your hand. If you hadn't become so accustomed to the feel of Harrys hand you probably wouldn't have known what it was, but you'd recognise that soft, bony, feel anywhere.

You open your eyes slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the light in their own time. You noticed you were in your own private room, something that they had very limited numbers of in hospitals here, and it was no doubt due to Harrys constant nagging and persistency that you were here. Looking to your right you confirmed that it was Harry holding your hand. He was slouched in a chair, facing your direction, sleeping, but holding your hand nevertheless. It took another second to realise Sofia was asleep in his lap, looking like the princess she was. There was another few chairs in the corner of the room and you realised your sons were all sat on them. Thomas and Eric resting their heads on each other and Will sat with his hood pulled up over his face.

It was beyond comforting to know your family was still here and waiting patiently for you.

You softly ran your finger over Harrys hand, trying to cause a disturbance. You'd attempted to voice your actions but nothing came out, due to your throat being so dry. You noticed a cup of water next to your bedside table and decided to help yourself. You turned the best you could, with Harry still holding on to your hand, and then moved your arm to the water. It was hard, really hard, but you managed to do it. You held the plastic cup as firmly as you could, with your trembling fingers, and sat up a bit further to take a sip. You managed a few sips before your fingers gave way and you dropped the plastic cup to the floor, spilling the rest of the water on the floor.

The noise wasn't loud but obviously loud enough to wake people up. Everyone except Harry - whom didn't wake up for anyone. He could sleep through an earthquake if he tried.

"Mum!" "Mummy!" A chorus of your children's voices echoed throughout the room, eventually waking Harry up in the process. Thomas and Eric came over to stand next to your bedside, taking your hand in both of theirs. Will rested on the end of the bed, giving you a soft smile which you returned. Sofia jumped across from Harrys lap on to your bed and engulfed you in a hug.

"Umph." You let out the noise when she jumped on you, still feeling a little sensitive all over your body.

"Hey, hey. Sof. You need to be careful with mummy, alright?" Harry comes and removes her slightly off of you, so you don't have to carry as much weight.

"Sorry mummy." Sofia apologises, going to sit next to you, her little legs dangling off the bed and miles from the floor. You gave her a small smile to signify you were okay and that you didn't need her apology. Harry stood nearby her in case she fell.

"How are you mum?" Will asked. Even though Will acted like he was too cool to get involved, you knew that he did honestly care and his question warmed your heart that he was taking an interest.

"A bit achey, not going to lie. I also find it really hard to move my legs and arms, but that was to be expected." You try and say with a strong and brave voice, but you didn't even convince yourself that it was.

"Will, buddy?" Harry asks, catching Will's attention. "Could you maybe take Sofia and the boys to the vending machine?" He hands over a handful of loose change. "Just get some crisps or chocolate for yourselves, please?"

Will obviously understood that his dad was asking for a couple of minutes alone with you.

"Sure. Cmon Sof." Will cheerily spoke, holding out his hand for her. Harry helped her off the bed, and Thomas and Eric both squeezed your hand to show they were here for you. Once they all left, Sofia rambling on about her favourite chocolate bar, Harry came and sat down by you.

He wrapped both his large hands in your smaller, and frailer, one. He leant down to plant a long-lasting kiss to your forehead, the sparks remaining even after he'd moved away. He then rested his forehead lightly on yours, looking in to your eyes the best he could from this angle. You had a feeling he just wanted to be as close to you as possible. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want the same thing.

"I missed you." Harry whispered against your face, your lips ghosting each other.

"You've been here the whole time, H." You  remind him.

"But it wasn't the same. Not being able to see these beautiful, dreamy, eyes. Not being able to annoy you whenever I want. Not being able to cuddle up next to you in bed every night. Not being able to hear your angelic laugh." He stops to look down at your lips. "And not being able to kiss these pretty things." He nudged his nose against yours.

"Well nothing's stopping you now." You smirk.

Harry lets out a small chuckle before rushing down to meet your lips with his. It was as if it was the first time he was getting to do it. He was so excited and you could feel the happiness radiate off him as his lips moulded against yours. You had to pull away to catch your breath.

"Yeah. Definitely missed that." Harry stated, making you chuckle.

You tried to move your hands up to cup his cheek but it was difficult to raise it past a certain point, your muscles being too weak to allow it. You sadly sighed to yourself and flopped your arm back on the bed beside you, closing your eyes in disappointment.

A second later you feel Harrys hand lifting your arm. You open your eyes to glance at him and he's reading your facial expressions to make sure what he's doing isn't hurting you in any way.

"Together." Harry firmly tells you, finally resting your palm against his cheek. He leans against it and you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Harry makes sure to hold your hand in place so you aren't doing all the hard-work.

"Sorry." You look at him through your sad eyes.

"For what, darling?" Harry looks deep in to your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"For all this." Your nod your head down to your body, referring to how you were semi-immobile. "I know it's not what you signed up for, but—"

"But I love you no matter what." Harry finishes your sentence for you, not wanting to hear your criticise yourself any more than you already had. "This isn't your fault, baby. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that. We're going to get through this. You're not alone. That, I can promise you."

His words brought as tears to your eye but Harry manages to kiss it away, leaving him with salty lips, before it can truly fall.

••••

2 weeks later, you were out of the hospital now and back home. It was been very overwhelming the last couple of weeks.

You still were unable to walk properly without the support of crutches, or a wheelchair and sometimes Harry. It was a blessing in disguise that your children were still at school, because it meant that you were able to have a lot of time to yourself, and with Harry, without constant interruptions or fussing over you.

Your children had been brilliant. They helped around the house when necessary, and every weekend, when they didn't have school, they delivered you breakfast in bed. Sofia made your cards, that had messages inside that were all spelt wrong, and drew family portraits for you. Sometimes you'd end up with a blue face and green hair, but you didn't love it any less.

As for Harry. Well he was just another level of amazing. He cleaned around the house, even when you insisted you could. He was very firm and layed out the ground rules early on. You weren't to move without his assistance and it had to be with good reason. I.e. apparently getting yourself a glass of water isn't good enough. He picked up the kids from school and dropped them off, sometimes you'd come along if your medication hadn't made you too drowsy. He did allow you to help cook dinner, what with stirring the pan, to let you feel like you were doing something, but he didn't want to overwork you.

Harry and yourself were currently out in the park, and it was very amusing.

You were in your comfy clothes, whilst Harry was in his running gear. He was running laps of a swimming-pool-sized pond, whilst you were walking indescribably slow with your crutches to assist you. Every time he jogged past you he would joke about how you were 'catching him up', but that was far from the truth. You'd barely gone around half of the pond, whereas Harry had done four laps of it, so far. You found the whole thing hilarious.

Harry was catching up to you again and you attempted to go a bit faster to make it seem like you were racing him.

"Oh I see. You're trying to get away from me now, huh?" Harry shouts from behind you. You laughed to yourself as you continue to place the crutches out in front of you before moving yourself forwards. "I don't think so.." Harrys voice becoming more apparent now, from obviously being able to move faster than you.

You suddenly feel his arms wrap around yours and he twirls you around in the air.

"Harry!"

"I've got you. I won." He attacks your neck with kisses, probably leaving a mark or two. Acting like this with him makes it look like you were still falling in love with each other, not being married and have four kids already. You wouldn't want it any other way though.

"You only win because you're a sore loser." You tease him as he places you back down on the floor.

"Shut up." He mumbles.

You go down to pick up your crutches, which you'd accidentally let go of, but are stopped by Harry.

"It's alright love i've got them." Harry tells you, knowing how hard it is for you to bend over and multitask by picking something up.

"No. It's okay. I want to try." You shyly tell him, feeling stupid that you're even requesting it. Harry proudly smiles at you before you lean down to pick them up.

Harrys hand ghosts over the small of your back, just on stand-by for support in case you need it. You let out a groan half-way down, not wanting to give up but realising that this was more difficult than anticipated.

"You've got this baby. Keep going." Harry comforted you to carry on, even when he knew you were struggling, because he knows you can do it. The mere thought gives you enough strength to keep going and power through the ache.

With one final push you're able to pick them up and stand back up. Harry slinks his arms around your waist and picks you up so he's carrying you around his torso. Your legs instinctively cross over his back, and your arms find way to his neck.

Without any words Harrys lips press against yours passionately, and you know that he is proud of you.

••••

A year later had come another milestone for you.

You'd successfully managed to drive the kids to school, and back home. Harry had sat in the passenger seat, making sure to help you with the wheel or change of gears, throughout. You were both anxious. You, more about ending up having an accident and Harry more for wanting you to prove to yourself that you could do it. But you did it.

The kids had been over the moon to hear that their mum was driving them to and from school, complaining that their dads jokes were getting too old now. Harry was mildly offended and continued with his jokes as punishment.

You'd forgotten the route and ended up at a pig-farm, upon trying to get to school, but Harry found it funny and it made you relax. Minor-amnesia was a product of the surgery, and it was times when you were trying to drive somewhere that it became an issue. Other times it was actually quite useful. For example when you'd genuinely forgotten someones name, you can blame it on the surgery, or if you were meant to collect something and had forgotten you'd be politely excused.

After having dinner with the kids, which was an Indian takeaway from your favourite, you made sure they all went to bed before spending some time with Harry downstairs. He'd mentioned how he needed to talk to you about some things this evening.

Both of you were snuggled up on the sofa, with you practically lying on top of Harry. Harry had a can of beer in his hand and your glass of water was carefully placed on the floor. You'd been advised not to drink alcohol for a while, just until the migraines settle down.

"H? You alright? You've been very quiet." You asked, as you kept your eyes on the TV where the BBC News was playing. You weren't really watching it, but it was just there to fill the background noise with anything other than silence.

"Um, yeah." He clears his throat. "I've been thinking a lot lately."

"About?" You ask, not exactly being able to read Harrys mind.

"Life. You. Kids. The future.." He answers, but you can sense he his nervous as his heart is beating considerably faster than usual.

"Okay?" You press for him to continue.

"I'm going to give it all up." He just blurts out, catching you if guard and making you stop breathing for a few seconds.

You twist around so you're sat crossed legged over his legs. "W-what do you mean?" You ask, confused over his proposal.

"I mean, I quit. I'm done with that part of my life." He answers as a matter of factly.

You close your eyes and shake your head to try and process what's actually happening right now.

"H? What are you doing?" You ask, flabbergasted. "Music is your life.."

"No, Y/N. You are my life. Those children, sleeping soundly upstairs, are my life. Music is a passion and a relaxation. It is a way to express my emotions when I don't have you around."

"But—"

"I know, I know. I'll miss the touring and meeting all the amazing fans, but leaving you is just something i'm not willing to do anymore."

A few tears slip down your cheeks when you realise what you're doing.

"This is all my fault." You begin to cry, covering your face with your palms to hide yourself from Harry.

"Hey, Y/N/N, no it's not. You hear me? It's not." Harry tugs your hands away from your face so he can see your beautiful face. "Look at me, darling." He tells you more than asks you.

"Sor—" You start.

"Sshh. I don't want to hear it. I mean, you having surgery is part of the reason, but there are so many other things that are bigger than that. Y/N/N, I love you so so much. More than you could ever believe and I just want to spend the rest of my life with you now. Of course i'll continue to write, produce and publish music, but i'm just not up for touring, like I did, anymore. From now on I want to become the family man. I want to be there every day for our children, no matter what. I need them so much more than they could ever need me."

"But money H..?" You sigh, even though your spirit is so happy from Harrys insight into the future.

"That is not for you to worry about, right now, alright? I've been planning this for a while now and I have things in place and such. I just needed to tell you, because your my other half - my better half - and I felt you deserved to be involved."

It went quiet for a little bit as you let everything Harrys told you, so far, sink in. You'd stopped crying, mainly because Harry wasn't giving your tears a chance to run down your face. You started to smile to yourself at a life where 365 days of a year you can wake up next to your husband.

"What you smiling at, gorgeous?" Harry chuckled, caressing your cheek.

"You." You cheese. "And how I get to be with you for the rest of my days."

"I can't wait to start living the rest of my life with you." Harry softly says, kissing your nose briefly.

Rest of your lives. You could get used to that.

[st-danger]

This is not depraved at all (unless you take it there somehow 👀)—so I will completely understand if you ignore this as it is not very on brand. We stan the king of ghoul rimming in this house. I really adore your fic about Copia coming home from tour and big boy Aeth sucking his brain out through his dick. I would love to know when the ghouls decided finally show Copia their faces and how it went. Even as itty bitty headcanons. Really glad to hear your surgery went well btw ♡ and thank you for sharing your writing with us! xx, @ghuleh-recs

It isn't actually an expressly forbidden thing. There's no rule that states the ghouls need their faces covered all the time, around the abbey. On stage, of course, but off? Imperator has never made any such decree. (Nihil never did, either, but we all know who's actually in charge.)

They prefer to keep masked when they aren't around only each other. The door to the ghoul common room is near an annex of the building and is locked for a reason; they prefer privacy. It's a lot of work to keep the human glamour going, and there's something about being seen in their true form, in any level, that feels intimate beyond words.

So, when Aether approaches Copia and lays a hand on his shoulder, leans in and invites him back after mass one night, Copia understands the gravity of the situation when he realizes what it is they want to share with him. And standing by the fireplace once inside, with his dear band ghouls surrounding him...he sees their eyes through the metal, knows how keenly he is being watched. Can feel nervousness that is not entirely his. It feels just as much that he's under a spotlight here, now, as it does when he's on stage for a ritual.

"Will you look human at all?" Copia asks softly, peering up at Aether.

"Some of us do," Aether murmurs. "More than Alpha and Omega. Any of the older ghouls."

He once heard Terzo describe looking at Omega's true face as "confusing". He never asked any follow up questions to clarify that statement, but he's always wondered if confusing meant strange to look at, or strange to look at because his human brain couldn't figure out exactly what it was looking at, in an Eldritch horror kind of way. If hellspawn are naturally just beyond what mortal minds can know.

"Are you sure?" Copia asks, though his hands are already reaching towards Aether's face. "You want me to see you?"

"We want you to know us," Aether replies simply, and carefully, so carefully, Copia slides off Aether's mask, like the metal might turn out to be sugar and splinter and break if he isn't gentle.

It's more human than he expects, but still so unnatural it makes him shiver. He sucks in a breath and takes in Aether's features; the deep grey skin, the fangs poking through black lips. His nose looks crooked, the skin pinched in the angles like it had been broken and stretched. There's texture in the skin that makes it look so distinctly inhuman. Copia looks into lavender eyes and gawks.

"Aether," he says, "you're lovely."

A smiling demon is a sight. Aether looks so pleased, and immediately sighs, shoulders slumping as he relaxes. To his right, Swiss laughs.

"He was so worried," he tells Copia, "you were gonna think he was ugly."

"I wasn't worried," Aether mutters, trying to shrug it off. Copia can tell by the petulant tone Swiss is telling the truth.

"Oh yes you were," Swiss says, and then Copia watches his face revealed, the mismatched eyes, the brilliant white of fangs against skin that looks less like skin and more like a void.

And one by one, they make themselves that much more known to Copia. Rain is the last, and the most hesitant. Dew keeps a hand on the small of Rain's back, a soothing little gesture.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," Copia reminds him.

"He wants to," Dew says, answering for Rain. "He's just shy." The pale blue of Rain's eyes flash at Dew, and Copia just knows if he could see the expression right now, it would be a withering thing.

Rain lifts the mask away.

There's a weird iridescent quality to the skin. Copia's brain tells him it's wet, but when he reaches out with an ungloved hand and lays it gently against the angle of a cheekbone, it feels dry and warm. His nose is thin. Flat. Stripes under his jaw reveal gills. And where a mouth would be, Copia finds lips that look half melted together. Distinct in one corner, and like ruined wax on the other side. A feature that tried to form, and melted in the fire during his summoning.

"Is this why you're so quiet?" Copia asks carefully.

Rain nods and lets his eyes close, pressing his cheek into the warmth of Copia's palm.

[muddyorbsblr]

feels like mine pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: On the worst day of his life, Tom receives an offer impossible to refuse: getting you back. Well, almost…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death; possibly a wonky timeline (the math wasn't and still isn't mathing in my pea brain); probably a wonky depiction of soulmates [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: sad meow meow hours

Three days ago…

After a good dozen takes on the same sequence from a variety of angles, Tom finally had a moment to himself, giving his assistant a signal to retrieve his phone so that he could give you a call. You'd been apart for nearly a month at this point and he missed you terribly.

The only remote relief he'd get was hearing your voice as often as he possibly could. You'd tell him all about the plot of the book you were reviewing, or what details you could divulge on the shows you were working on. Considering that you often had ironclad NDAs for them these days, you'd usually tell him of the former as it was less of a minefield.

Once his assistant handed over his phone, however, his heart caught in his throat at the screen that greeted him. Over a dozen missed calls from an unknown number in the last few hours, preceded by a text message from you.

Tom, sweetie, I'm in the hospital. It's no big deal, just a little road accident, don't worry about me. I might not be able to answer your calls for a while, since they're taking me in for surgery in a few minutes. I love you. Always.

With trembling hands, Tom returned the call from the unknown number, his heart so heavy in his chest it was a struggle to even breathe right. The next words felt as if they passed through him in a blur; he could only pick up on bits and pieces from the other end.

Drunk driver. T-bone. Internal bleeding.

And the worst words of all. I'm deeply sorry for your loss.

He took the soonest possible flight back to London, everything around him seemed a blur until he finally got to the home you two shared, his and your mothers waiting for him inside. That was the moment he finally broke, dropping to his knees and breaking out into sobs, the horrible reality cruelly sinking in once he saw their completely distraught faces.

They took your body to be cremated that day, allowing him a few minutes to say goodbye before they began the process. Your mother advised him against looking into the body bag, insisting that he wouldn't want that as his last memory of you, that he should at least get to live on with his final memory of your face being that of the loving, beaming wife he knew and loved.

The next time that you came out, it was in an urn, weighing just about the same as a baby, and he cradled you as such. For the entire car ride back to your home until he settled you in his study.

"We didn't have enough time," he said through his tears, stroking the golden urn as if he was stroking your hair. "We should have had more time."

At that moment, a voice pierced the solemn silence of your home. "I'm sorry for your loss, Thomas."

When Tom turned to see who the unwelcome visitor was, he couldn't find any words to say except one. "Impossible."

"Quite possible, really," Loki shot back, stepping into the study with palms open in a sign to tell your husband that the god meant no harm. "Anything's possible in this multiverse, I'm slowly coming to find. And in that realm of possibility, I have something to offer you."

"All due respect, I want nothing that you can give," Tom declared sullenly. "You can't give me my wife back."

"And what if I said that I can? Well, in a way."

That suddenly got Tom's full attention, placing an arm in front of your urn as if he was still trying to protect you. As if that could really do anything against a god. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.

"I've recently learnt that in every universe, there is an iteration or an echo of me, and a corresponding iteration of Y/N. In this universe, Thomas, you are my echo. In every universe, Y/N's echo is destined to fall in love with mine, and in almost every universe, that love is reciprocated," the god began to explain, creating an illusion with a wave of his hand of your wedding day.

It was nearly enough to mesmerize Tom completely, almost losing himself in the memory. In happier times. "Hang on, what do you mean almost every universe?"

"Ah, yes. That part. Well, you see, Thomas…in the universes where my echo takes on your form, world-famous actor, hordes of adoring men and women and everyone in between at his feet, getting an entire crowd to fall silent with a finger to his lips--"

"I get it, I get it, can we keep it moving, please?"

"Right then. In the universes where my echo is…Tom Hiddleston, while it is a guarantee that Y/N will love Tom, it is not a guarantee that Tom will love Y/N. There are universes where Tom barely even knows of her existence. She's in the hordes, a part of her soul knowing that she's doing exactly what she was designed to do, but confused as to why she feels as if a part of her is missing somehow."

"That's--" Tom's words choked off in a sob at the back of his throat, a new type of sadness overcoming him as he imagined a world where he never even knew you. Never loved you. "That's miserable."

"It is," the god agreed. "My offer to you is that I can reach into one of these universes where her love for you is unreturned, and I can bring her to you. Fulfill what her heart yearns for, and in return, you have an echo of your wife. Have the time that was stolen from you so harshly. So unfairly."

Tom considered the offer carefully, only moments passing before he had his first question. "What of her universe? Her family?"

"In these worlds she doesn't have much of one. For the most part she's alone, and has learnt to fend for herself in lieu of a support system." Both their hearts broke for those iterations of you, the thought of you taking on the world without anyone by your side was nearly enough to bring both men to their knees. "If you were to accept, then it would be a simple enough spell with barely any ripple effect to nullify her existence and memories of her from the minds of those still around to remember her."

Every part of him wanted to jump at the offer. To accept it without thinking. Getting another chance to spend a life with you? There should have been no hesitation at all. Except…

"If she's anything like my Y/N, she'll be smart enough to ask questions. Why her life's different from what she knew before. Whose remains are in the urn in my study. What do I tell her then?"

"That is entirely up to you." Loki's answer was not in the least bit comforting. "You can conjure up a story that she will be inclined to believe, or you can tell her the truth. Alternatively, I can offer you an easier way out of this as well. Surrender your late wife's remains to me and I can keep her somewhere safe. That way you can live on with creating your new life with this echo of your Y/N without being as tethered to your past; after all, if you wish to start this life with her, then she deserves to have you love her to the fullest extent you can afford. She deserves not to be loved half-heartedly by someone still clinging to the ghosts of his past."

Much as he agreed completely with the sentiment, Tom found himself hesitating at the thought of simply surrendering your ashes to the god. He knew what the trade would mean, and that he in turn would have more time with a version of you; however, a part of him still protested.

For would this not be a dishonor to your memory? To simply let go of you and the time he'd gotten to know you and fall in love with you in exchange for something that might not even live up to his memory of you?

And on the other hand, he thought about the version of you that was doomed to live your life with an unrequited love. The knowledge that your souls were only partly intertwined in that world had him hurt for that iteration of you. You did deserve to be loved with the same magnitude that you gave love. And if he could give that to you, then the only way that he could do so was to accept that this wouldn't be a life wherein he picked up where you and he left off. He would be building something new entirely.

It was a near impossible choice. But ultimately he knew which way he would go.

Loki's offer meant more time with you. It meant having you again. Even if it was an echo of you. At its core, it was still you.

Right?

"What would you do?" he asked the god.

"If I lost my Y/N? I'd turn the multiverse inside out to have her again. Rearrange the Realms itself until she was by my side." He paced the room as he continued his answer. "Any version of her." A smirk tugged at the onyx-haired man's mouth before tilting up his chin, assuming an all-knowing stance. "But seeing as you are an echo of me, you already knew that this was the answer, didn't you? You simply needed to hear it outside of your own thoughts. Solidify your decision."

Tom could only nod, the depth of the situation still tremendously lost on him. All he knew was that if he did this, he would have you back.

He placed your urn on the desk, pushing it towards Loki. "What do I do now?"

The god held out his hand. "Firstly, your wife's ring. I'll need it when I find an echo of her that leads her life all alone. It will be her first tie to this universe. Your universe." Tom placed your wedding ring into his hand. "Secondly, you grieve. You've suffered a great loss, and what I am to do is not a replacement of your late wife, and should not be treated as such. Mourn your loss for the next day. Then after tomorrow night, go about your morning routinely, as if she were alive."

Tom nodded again. "How will I know that it worked?"

Loki only shrugged at the actor. "Have faith. Faith that you'll see your wife again the morning after next."

With that, the god disappeared, taking both your remains and your wedding ring with him. And Tom heeded the advice, crawling into the bed you shared with him, all the memories of the life you built together and the possibilities of the life you were yet to build overwhelming him. The weight of your lost future all but crushing his heart into a million pieces.

And he wept himself to sleep.

Today…

On the second morning after Loki's offer, Tom rose from your shared bed and listened to the god's instructions from days before. He laced his shoes up, went on his usual morning run, changed into business casual attire as if he was scheduled for a Zoom call in a short while, and proceeded to start preparing a breakfast for two.

Once he had coffee brewing, he started preparing a lavish breakfast for you two to share, starting with a fruit platter. "Have faith," he whispered to himself, making the last second decision to make it a touch more decadent with a small bowl of Nutella to dip the fruit into.

If this truly was going to work, he would spoil you at every turn moving forward. Never another minute squandered, nor another craving denied.

"Have faith," he whispered again, putting on an apron to prevent any spills from ruining his white dress shirt and proceeding to slice up the fruit.

Then he heard the bedroom door open. And for the first time in days he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope.

He waited until you made your way down the stairs, fighting every urge to meet you halfway and take you into his arms. He knew you needed to acclimate into this life you'd been suddenly thrust into; Loki had done his part, now it was his turn to ease you into your new reality.

Your footsteps got closer and closer until finally they stopped just outside the kitchen area. That was the only time Tom allowed himself to turn around and look at you, relief flooding his system once he laid his eyes on you. In the silk navy blue nightgown, wearing your wedding ring.

He finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

A/N: *peeks from the corner* I promised I'd have a sequel for 'feels like mine' up, and here it issssss 🫡 This isn't 'sworn fealty' after all 🤣 (in all seriousness though I will be working on a sequel to that I just have 0 idea when)

And technically this isn't a sequel but more of a prequel to part 1…all I can promise you is that there is a part 3 and it's spicy 😳👀 Dunno when that'll be out tho because I'll be returning to the requests pile but we'll see where the vibe takes me

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemis @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified

[thezombieprostitute]

Unwanted - Part 2

Summary: Your life is no longer yours. You've been forced into becoming a different species of human. Bought and paid for, what can you do but follow orders and obey your Alpha?

Warnings: Allusions to surgery, human trafficking, kidnapping; Angst; Depression; Suicidal thoughts. Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is described as big & tall, is female. No other descriptors required.

Part 1

Levinson leads you to car but you pause for a few moments. You haven't seen outside in so long. Tears start streaming down your face as you look at the sky.

"Omega!" Levinson barks. You duck your head in fear and quickly climb into the car. He gets in on the other side and knocks the partition, signalling the driver he's ready to go. "Buckle up," he tells you.

You're quick to comply. You can't do anything else because you feel so dead inside. Kidnapped, tortured, and rejected. What was the point of all of it? Why did you have to suffer so much for someone who doesn't want you? Why did he ask for someone like you? It doesn't matter anymore. All you can do is follow orders and try to shut your brain down. Like post-surgery healing and recovery, the training they put you through. Just shut up, shut down and comply. You don't even bother looking out the window, it would only further remind you of what you missed. What you're never allowed to do again.

Levinson keeps working on his phone. You can only tell because of the sounds. You can't remember the last time you held a phone. But it's not your place to think about it, now is it? You take a breath and catch hints of the driver's scent. He also smells like fire, but more controlled. Like a large bonfire at the beach instead of the wildfire next to you.

You hear the partition roll down. The driver says, "we're far enough away, Ari."

"Thanks, Johnny." Levinson puts his phone in his pocket and turns to you. "I'm Ari Levinson, with the Department of Defense." He pulls out his wallet and puts it on your lap, making sure you see his badge and ID. "They weren't supposed to actually find a candidate. It was a ploy to buy us time until we could get more intelligence on the operation."

You blink, whispering, "I...I was mistake?"

"We're going to take you to a community of others of our kind where you can get proper care."

"I was a mistake?" you say louder. The tears start pouring. You can't hold them back any further. It was bad enough when you weren't wanted but have your entire existence upended for a mistake? It was too much. You collapse into a sobbing pile.

"Told you to be gentler on her, Alpha," you hear Johnny say.

"Not much that I could do to soften the blow," Ari retorts. "Let her cry it out, she definitely needs it. Might want to get some food, too. I can hear her stomach growling from here and I'm sure it's making things worse for her."

"Okay," Johnny shakes his head. He pulls out his own phone and calls someone telling them to have some food prepped for your arrival in a half hour or so.

You're all cried out by the time you reach the gate. It looks like you're entering an army base. That fits with the Department of Defense stuff Ari said. Both men show their credentials and the car is allowed inside.

"We're going to get you some food before we catch our flight," Ari tells you. "Do not speak until after the plane lands. Understand?"

You nod and he accepts that. What choice do you have?

"For what it's worth, I know the guy who works the commissary here," Johnny offers. "He's an amazing cook!" Again, all you can do is nod.

You're let out of the car and walk between the men towards what is labelled as the Mess Hall. Levinson gestures for you and Johnny to sit at one of the long tables. While you do, he goes to the kitchen and comes out with a few trays of food. The entire time you've sat, Johnny's kept a hand on your shoulder, likely as a way to try to comfort you while also keeping others away.

Every so often, as you're eating, someone either brave, stupid or dared into it, tries to approach your little group. But either Johnny or Levinson gives them a look that has them think twice and move along. You don't know if there's some special Alpha power or if they're just that intimidating. You also can't bring yourself to care. At least the food is good, best you've had in ages.

Levinson checks his phone, "time to get moving. Flight is ready for us." Johnny helps you off of the bench and you assume your position between the two men.

When you're seated on the plane between them, you try to buckle up. It's definitely not a commercial flight and you're unsure of all the straps. Ari sees you having trouble and helps you out. Before he buckles himself in he whispers in your ear, "when we land, you will be properly taken care of by a real community. I owe you at least that."

Part 1

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @startcarvingdarling

[iboatedhere]

Hi friend! Thanks for asking for prompts!

I’d love to request a fic based on a prompt from the June list - Peaches 🍑 (any interpretation you like 😏). Can’t wait to see what your awesome brain comes up with! ❤️❤️

start with a little inspo

"I'm having a full-on crisis."

"Henry, darling," Pez says over the line, "you'll have to be a tad more specific. You open a conversation this way at least three times a week." 

"This is the most urgent. This is the one that will have me change my name, grow a beard, and flee to the woods. It was lovely knowing you, Percy. Truly."

"I'm not entirely sure you could pull off a beard," Pez says. "Too blond and too pale. It'll just blend right in."

Henry groans.  

"Perhaps plastic surgery," Pez offers. "Although it would be a shame to cut up that gorgeous face." 

"Percy—."

"I'm sure I could find you an excellent surgeon. Let me make a few calls."

"Please go ahead and do that because I'm hanging up."

"I'm sorry, I'll stop," Pez says with a laugh that negates his promise. "Tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better once you do."

"I might have, accidentally, slightly, sexually harassed a politician on Instagram."

"That's quite the adventurous statement," Pez says after a moment. "Care to elaborate for me, Haz?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning, love." 

"You know how dreadful I am at social media."

"Indeed. If I had a penny for every time you accidentally posted a screenshot or sent me a DM filled with gibberish, I would never need to tap into my trust fund."

"Yes, well, there's this man that I follow—."

"The politician? Haz, if you dare tell me that you've taken an interest in some old, white dolt—."

"He is none of those things. He's quite young, and I believe he's said his father is Mexican—."

"Oh, you believe?" Pez says as if he already knows Henry has hung on to his every word since he followed him. 

"He's brilliant," Henry continues, "and beautiful."

"But still a politician."

"He's pro all the correct things, Pez. Nobody is perfect, but he's as close as I've seen."

"And you sexually harassed him?"

"Slightly. Accidentally. And via Instagram, which I know doesn't make it any better."

"What is his name?"

"Unimportant."

"You do realize I can find him by looking through your followers. It's the price you pay for only following one hundred people."

"I like to keep my feed neat and organized. Plus, the fewer people I follow, the less of a chance I have of embarrassing myself."

"And yet here we are."

"Indeed."

"Henry George Edward James Fox. What in the world did you do?"

"Well. He posted this photo to his stories, and I meant to scroll past it—."

"Did you?"

"I meant to screenshot it," Henry admits. 

"That's more like it. Do continue."

"I meant to screenshot it and then move on—."

"Wank off."

Henry hangs up. If Pez isn't going to be helpful, then they don't need to have a conversation. 

Thirty seconds later, Pez calls him, and Henry picks up against his better judgment. 

"Is his name Alex Claremont-Diaz?"

"Pez!"

"He's not hard to find. Running for New York's 11th Congressional District. Originally from Austin, Texas. Yee-haw."

"Pez, please, I'm dying."

"Moved to Manhattan to attend NYU law, then relocated to Brooklyn where he decided to try his hand at politics. Seems to volunteer a lot and posts quite a few thirst traps. I'm telling you, Haz. A man in a well-fit suit is a thousand times sexier than one with his shirt off."

"Did you look at his stories?"

"Looking now. A photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. Basic.  A Goldendoodle in the park. Adorable. A little photoshoot. Oh. Oh my. I see."

Henry hums, knowing precisely what Pez is looking at. 

Congressional hopeful, Alex Claremont-Diaz, facing sideways toward the camera in a jumper and khaki pants. 

"Certainly has a body on him, doesn't he? What did you accidentally say to him?"

"I didn't say anything. But I somehow sent him the peach emoji."

There's a moment of silence and then bubbling laughter. "Oh, Henry," he wheezes. 

"I don't know, my finger slipped on the screen or something, and then that little bar came up on the bottom, and the peach emoji auto-filled. I tried to delete it, but I hit send instead. Then I tried to delete that, but I couldn't, and now I'm panicking."

"Oh, darling."

"I don't know what to do. I'm so embarrassed I could die."

"I do think you're overthinking this a bit. The hopeful congressman did post that photo for a reason."

"So you think he was looking for this kind of reaction?"

"He's young, gorgeous, and very clearly knows it if he's taking GQ photo shoots and posting them to his socials. Plus, the angle of this shot��I think it's safe to say he got plenty of peaches sent his way."

"Oh," Henry says, doing an awful job of hiding his disappointment. He spends entirely too much of his time thinking about this man, and in return, he's barely a blip on his radar. "Okay. I suppose it's not as dire as I thought."

"As long as he doesn't block you, I think you're just fine."

"Okay," Henry says again as his phone dings. He pulls it away from his ear and looks down at a new Instagram notification. 

"Oh bloody hell," he breathes when he realizes what he's looking at. "It's a message from him."

Pez gasps. "What does it say?"

Henry holds his breath as he opens Instagram. "He sent me a photo of myself. That ridiculous one you made me post from during our trip to The Hamptons."

"The one in your swimsuit? By ridiculous, you must mean how ridiculously hot you looked. Posting that was a public service."

"I beg to differ," Henry says as another message appears. "Oh. Oh."

"What?" Pez asks. "What?"

"He sent the eggplant emoji. What does that mean?"

"Oh, Henry," Pez says, "love. It means you'll have quite the story to tell the grandkids."

[bellarkeselection]

Hey I was woundering if you could do a Derek shepard short were hes comeing out of Surgery. And he sees the the reader crying cuz she feels like she is loseing everyone to new jobs but he We ensures her that he will always be there and he's not leaveing

We Will Always Stick Together

I enjoyed being a resident at Seatel Grace Hospital and helping patients that came through the doors. Up until the time it rolled around for people to be getting cut because of the merger. I had seen many of my friends already get cut and were forced to go find another job at a different hospital. At the moment I was currently standing by the nurses desk trying to not start sobbing at the fact another friend named Mandy had gotten cut. “This whole merger thing is ridiculous. You are a great resident.”

“It’s okay Y/n. I’ll still keep in touch with you.” She sniffed through tears, holding my hands in hers.

I croaked through heavy tears flinging my arms around her. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Hey, you are going to do great even when I’m not here. You are honestly a better doctor than me.” She reassured me squeezing me tightly in a bear hug. We had instantly became close on our very first day here. She finally broke the hug holding me by my shoulders. “Now serious talk. You must keep me updated on you and McDreamu you hear me?”

I rolled my eyes wishing I didn’t agree with the Meredith and the other interns nickname for him. “Ugh! I despise that accurate nickname.”

“I’m being serious Y/n. I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding.”

I gave her one last hug hearing the doors open behind us. “I promise you. I’ll see you later Mandy.” We finally fully separated by the time I saw Derek coming out of an elevator wearing his surgery scrubs walking over to us.

Mandy waved bye needing to fill out paperwork. “Bye Y/n.”

Leaning my elbows on the countertop I sighed feeling tears welling up in my eyes watching her leave through the doors and not look back at me one last time. I knew why she wouldn’t, because it would make it more painful than it already was. But it didn’t make the fact that I wanted her to do that any less painful. “Hey Y/n, I know that you were wondering about the surgery and I’m happy to report that everything went perfectly normal.”

“Yeah…that’s uh great.” I mumbled out still watching the doors wishing this wasn’t happening today.

Derek touched my shoulder seeing that something was off with me. My hands were all clenched up and I was slightly shaking even though I was leaning most of my body against the nurse desk so I wasn’t off balance. “Hey are you feeling okay?”

“Yep I’m fine.” I quickly answered which was another telling sigh for the brain surgeon.

He takes my hand in his turning my body to face him. “Y/n, tell me what is wrong or hurts otherwise I can’t do anything to help fix it.”

“This isn’t something you can fix, Derek.” I told him knowing he wouldn’t understand the constant worry I felt over this merger. He was already a highly skilled surgeon so he had nothing to worry about when it came to this sort of thing.

He brushed some hair out of my eyes seeing some tears sliding down the sides of my face. He knew I was very good at keeping it together around patients and staff but when I was alone with him he had seen me let out all my emotions from the whole day and he course was there to comfort me when I was done. “Try me. I know how deeply you feel things and how you hold them in.”

“Can we go somewhere privately, I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” I begged him and he draped an arm over my shoulder leading me into the nearest on call room.

He let me go inside the nearest room and shut the door behind himself locking it so we weren’t disturbed. I sat down on the bed running my fingers through my hair when he sat down beside me. “Tell me what’s going on?”

“All of my friends are basically getting cut from their jobs here. I’m the only one who hasn’t- and it’s only a matter of time before it might happen to me. I - I can’t handle the thought of it. I don’t want - want to leave you.” I felt tears beginning to fall down my face and my hands clutching into fists.

Derek whispered in my ear, leaning my body towards his, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re not going to lose me. Y/n, we are always going to be there and have each other."

"You really believe that?" I sniffed into his shirt.

He nodded while I laid my head on his chest and we just stayed that way. "Yes I am. Nothing is gonna separate us." I was somewhat more hopeful that he could be telling the truth.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[oliversrarebooks]

fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace part 2: you can't be fucking serious

Masterlist > Next

TW: abuse, injuries, concussion, sedation, medical whump

Morgan awoke slowly, the sting of antiseptic in his nose. The only thing he could hear past the painful ringing in his ears was the soft beep of medical equipment. His body ached, especially his knee and upper back, and his head was pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He knew exactly where he must be -- in the medbay at his boss's lair -- and the longer they thought he was unconscious, the longer he could relax and heal before the punishments began.

His memories were vague. Lights overhead. Voices. The beeping of medical equipment. A rubber mask on his face.

He lay there, drifting in and out. The pain felt so fuzzy and indistinct. Painkillers? That was new. Salcedo never gave him painkillers. He loved to watch Morgan suffer way too much for that. You wouldn't make it far among the crime lords of the city if you didn't enjoy your work, after all. 

Maybe there was some trick to the fact that he was being allowed this pleasant buzz. Let him relax and let his guard down so it'd hurt more later. He could figure that out when his head felt better.

"...awake..."

Fuck. It was starting. Morgan tried not to react.

"Morgan, are you awake? We just need you to respond to make sure you've woken up from the anesthetics, and then you can go back to sleep, promise."

Morgan couldn't help his face twitching as he recognized that absolutely infuriating voice. Arthur. His blasted nemesis.

Oh, that's right, he had been captured. Lucky fucking him. He got to be completely at the mercy of the hero he'd been tormenting for years. And at the end of it, he might get the wonderful experience of his boss busting him out of captivity only to punish him for his failures.

"Morgan, please, wake up."

Begrudgingly, Morgan opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. Even the dim light of the room was like an icepick to the brain. He looked over to see the smug fucking face of Arthur, and that was even worse.

"I'm awake. What do you want?" he said, his voice weak and slurred. He was definitely drugged, he could tell, because he could barely even muster up the strength to be scared of what was going to happen to him.

"Good. That's very good," said Arthur. He sounded kind. No, he sounded like he pitied Morgan. Oh, fuck that. "You gave us all quite a scare. It was a little touch-and-go for a bit there, but the surgery went well, and you should make a full recovery, as long as you get lots of rest."

Morgan swallowed hard, trying to comprehend this. He'd been given surgery? What the fuck had they done to him? He was in pain all over, but he certainly didn't feel like he'd been turned into a mantis-man hybrid or anything like that. Or been lobotomized.

...Had they seriously just patched him up? After everything he'd done? If there was anyone naive and soft-hearted enough to do that, it was his fucking nemesis.

"How are you feeling?" said Arthur, his voice too gentle.

"Like your whole team shoved me into a woodchipper and danced on the mulch."

"Yes... Julie went a little too hard with the energy blasts. She's still learning how to control it," said Arthur. "But you know, you were..."

"None of this would've happened if I weren't trying to install a zombification device inside city hall? Yeah, got it, lesson learned, next time I install it in your stupid fucking hero lair."

Arthur scowled. "Was the plan your idea or your boss's?"

"As though my boss could build something like that. Did you even notice the craftsmanship, or were you too busy punching it apart?"

Arthur sat back in his chair, looking as if something was on his mind.

The room was filled with medical equipment, the kind Morgan could control with his technomancy. He reached out slowly, feeling like he was fighting through a wall of cotton, and got no response. The familiar, tell-tale feel of power suppressors. They were probably in the restraints. 

"You know, Morgan," Arthur said after a long moment, "when we had you under for surgery, our medic, Laurel, performed an examination."

Morgan turned away. He could tell where this was going.

"There were a lot of injuries there. Injuries that didn't seem like ones you got while fighting us."

"Training."

"It looked like you'd been kicked in the ribs repeatedly without proper healing," Arthur said. "And there were marks that looked like they'd been left by a taser, and a lot of electrical burns."

"Heavy training."

"That's not training, Morgan!" Arthur actually sounded angry, now, and it took all of Morgan's willpower not to flinch away. "I'm not even discussing the massive amount of nasty bruises or that infected cut on your shoulder. Those could've been sustained while fighting heroes. But not all of that. And even if they were, everything looked like it had healed wrong or been left to scar. There's no way that's normal. I know your usual activities. I see the reports of all of your fights. No hero did those things to you. Certainly not my team."

Ugh. What was the point of all this? To humiliate him? Now his nemesis probably knew all about his poor condition, his chronic pain and his trick elbow and the scars littering his back. And it wasn't like it was going to get any better when his boss got him back. Fucking wonderful.

But Arthur didn't sound humiliating or mocking. He sounded concerned, which was almost even worse. "Morgan, did your boss do those things to you?"

Morgan rolled his eyes and turned away. Or he would've turned away if he weren't so heavily restrained he couldn't roll over.

"Morgan, I'm serious. Did your boss --"

"No, of course not," said Morgan, packing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "You know how Salcedo is. Every time you defeat me, he gives me a nice pat on the head and a participation trophy, and he tells me that it's okay I failed, because I tried and had fun."

Arthur sighed. "He's abusing you."

"He's giving me my quarterly performance reviews. You're abusing my patience."

"While you were sedated, you kept fighting us off, saying you weren't allowed to sleep. Does he prevent you from sleeping?"

Fucking drugs. Morgan barely remembered what had happened, much less what he'd said. He remembered hitting the wall, pain, pain, pain, and then the most beautiful and relaxing feeling in the world, and finally oblivion. 

"...It's been obvious to me for a long time that your health is deteriorating."

"Shut the fuck up," said Morgan, his sarcasm dissolving with his frustration. "You don't understand a goddamn thing about my life, so don't pretend like you do."

"I understand that you're being abused!"

"I'm being trained to fight your team," said Morgan through gritted teeth. "Rich of you to go on about being abused when it was Julie who gave me a sixty mile per hour impact with a concrete fucking wall."

"That was an accident and you know it. And there's a huge difference between thwarting your plans and casually abusing you."

Morgan looked down at his hands. Like he hadn't noticed how the hero team always pulled their punches to avoid injuring him too much, even when he was scheming something really nasty. Like he wasn't so much more afraid of his boss than his nemesis. Like he really needed his nemesis's smug pity.

Why couldn't Arthur just fucking take revenge or whatever? It wouldn't even be that bad while he was hopped up on drugs. Hell, Arthur was probably too soft a heart to pull half the shit Salcedo liked to, even though he had far more reason. Just get it the fuck over with.

"Could you spare me your fucking after school special bullshit and just tell me what you're going to do with me?" With any luck, they would throw him in ordinary jail and not that awful psychiatric hospital. Either way, it wouldn't stop his boss from finding him and pulling him out again whenever he decided Morgan was needed. Or needed to be punished.

"Well, we can't let you go free, obviously," said Arthur. "But if we put you in jail, you're just going to get captured by Salcedo again."

Oh, Morgan hated the way he phrased that. Captured. Like he was a civilian being taken hostage and not Salcedo's right hand man and a terrifying villain in his own right.

Arthur was leaning in closer. "You don't have to work for Salcedo, you know."

Morgan's eyes went wide with shock as he realized the turn this conversation was taking. He laughed sharply, a little maniacally. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious, Arthur?" he said. "Did you also hit your head on a wall? Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"I think I know you quite well by now, yes."

"And you're seriously trying to get me to go straight? Join your merry little band of idiot heroes?"

"...it would take a lot of work, and a lot of trust, but yes, eventually. It's something I've thought about on more than one occasion," said Nemesis, who, against all odds, seemed to be completely serious. "Look, let's cut the bullshit. Salcedo is abusing you. Don't even try to deny it, because I've seen more than enough evidence. He's beating you, burning you, god knows what else. He's working you to the bone on ridiculous plans that will never work, and makes you the fall guy for them while he escapes unscathed."

Every word of that was true, and hearing it from Arthur made him want to punch him in the face.

"You're a smart guy. Ridiculously smart. And despite what you claim, you have ethical standards. Remember the time the two of us teamed up to get those kids out of the burning school?"

"They were kindergartners, c'mon --"

"You have ethical standards, no matter how shaky they can be. And you have courage and talent," said Arthur. 

"You think I can be won over with cheap flattery, seriously, Arthur?"

"How about cheap flattery and a cool costume?" he said. "But seriously consider what I'm telling you. You're a smart guy. We pay well, maybe not as well as Salcedo, but enough, and you'd get overtime when you have to work late. We have health insurance. Most importantly, nobody is going to beat you to within an inch of your life if you screw up."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing, I'll just do that," said Morgan. "And I'm sure that, after everything I've done to you, you're all just going to protect me when Salcedo shows up to get me back."

"Yes. I will. I absolutely will," he said. "...Because he's going to kill you. We both know that. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. And you don't deserve that."

Fuck. He sounded so serious. He was using his superhero voice. The one he used to tell terrified hostages that he was going to save them and that nobody was getting hurt. The one that was usually directed at the civilians Morgan was menacing.

 "I don't expect you to make this decision overnight," said Arthur, standing up. "You've got a lot of healing to do. A lot of time to think over where your life is headed."

"And you're just gonna let me heal?" said Morgan skeptically. "You've got me totally at your mercy in what I assume is your underground secret lair, and you're just going to let me lay here and heal up my injuries?"

"Yes. I mean it. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. As long as you don't try to cause harm to any of us, no harm will come to you while you're here. I swear it." Arthur turned as he was about to walk out the door. "All I'm asking is that you think about what I said to you. We'll talk again. The nurse is here to see you."

And he was gone, and Morgan felt utterly exhausted.

An older woman wearing scrubs with pride-flag-colored fish on them entered the room. She looked tired and a little scared. "Well, uh, Arthur tells me you're awake and lucid, Mr.... uh... Mr. Morgan," she said. "That's good. You were in pretty bad shape."

"Hmph."

"Can I look in your eyes with this penlight, please? You had a really nasty concussion, so you're probably going to be very tired and disoriented for a while as you recover."

Great. It was super great to be concussed and useless in the hero's lair. Still, he submitted to Laurel's eye exam without a fuss. It was one thing to sass his nemesis -- putting up a fuss for the medic was pointless when she was just trying to do her job.

"The only thing you can really do right now is get some rest," she said. "I can give you some painkillers, and some sedation if you think you'll have trouble sleeping. Would that be okay?"

Morgan let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sure, yeah, I really want to be drugged up and helpless in the hero's lair."

"Well, you're not going anywhere," she pointed out. "You'll heal a lot faster if you get some rest."

Morgan scowled. He couldn't afford to be lounging on a bed in a drugged haze. He had to work on finding a way to escape, preferably with some valuable information or a hostage, in the hopes he could catch Salcedo in a good mood. 

But no matter how he looked at it, he was already exhausted, concussed, power-repressed, and in restraints. He wasn't successfully escaping a team of heroes in this condition, sedated or not. And if they wanted him at their mercy, they could come knock him out whenever they felt like it. 

So what difference would it make if he were drugged again? God knows his life was going to fucking suck enough once Salcedo came to drag him back. Might as well feel artificially good for a few hours.

"Yeah, I'll take it. Give me the good shit," said Morgan. 

"Right away," she said with a laugh. She pulled a few bottles of clear liquid from her pocket, and, consulting a chart attached to his bed, began to measure out doses. "You know, it's really interesting to finally get to meet you, Mr. Morgan."

"Scared?" he said, attempting his most menacing grin.

"...well, I haven't forgotten the things you've done," she said, which really wasn't what you wanted to hear when someone was preparing a syringe for you. "But the team thinks you deserve a chance, and it's a medical professional's responsibility to provide care for anyone, no matter their past. So I'll treat you like I would any innocent person. You have my word." The look in her eyes was distant. "You're not so frightening now, anyway."

Morgan tried to push down his unease. "Fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace."

"Of course you are," she said, injecting the drugs into Morgan's IV line. "This should kick in in a few minutes. It's going to make you very drowsy. I suggest actually getting some sleep and not fighting it. We'll be monitoring you, but if you have any complications, hit this button."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Morgan, smarting from the fact that he couldn't even intimidate the medic. He was at her mercy. He didn't like being at anyone else's mercy. He knew how he treated people he had at his mercy. How his boss treated people.

He hated being on the receiving end, when he was normally such a fearsome and threatening...

Fearsome and threatening...

Ohhh.

Whatever Laurel had injected hit him like a truck, because suddenly he was feeling real fucking good. It was like all of his anxiety melted away, his tight muscles loosening, the pounding in his head finally lightening up. He felt like he were being wrapped up into a wool blanket and carried off on a soft cloud to slumberland. 

Any thoughts of trying to scheme his way out of the hero's stronghold evaporated from his mind. He didn't even bother fighting as his eyelids grew heavy and threatened to close. He was so tired and felt so good. Sleep would feel amazing.

You're a smart guy. Just think about it. Arthur's words echoed in his mind as he began to drift.

Fuck you, Arthur. Like it was all so fucking simple.

Arthur probably knew him better than just about anyone. He must know that it would never work. Why even bother?

Morgan couldn't help but picture himself laughing and joking with Toshiro and Satomi and Julie, dressed in one of their ridiculous bright uniforms, working on gadgetry to help people instead of constantly getting his beautiful machines smashed to bits. 

Ridiculous. The fact that he was even thinking about it was the drugs talking. And now, the drugs were whispering to him that he should really just get some sleep. When would he ever get to sleep this well? Certainly not when his boss came to pick him up.

Part 1 >> Masterlist > Next

@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedme @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @sparrowsage

[alexthebordercollie]

Soooo I made thing. I will probably redraw this in the cannon style in the future. As for my own personal style for drawing GF stuff, I'm still fleshing it out. But I have another AU now. My Hand of God AU has Ford committing to Bill and spending years trapped in a very abusive relationship, also the apocalypse so that's fun. This one's the complete opposite direction. Ford and Fidds accidentally come into possession of a pair of twins, these boys end up being the motivation it took for Ford to cut things off with Bill and do whatever it takes to keep him from ever getting out.

(I've yet to flesh out exactly how these two were born but the boys were created through anomalous means.)

On the left is Nik (Nikola) An adrenalin junkie who loves adventure and is an absolute menace to society as is the Pines tradition. On the right is Newt (Newton), a pastel-loving soft boy who will cry if you tell him pink is a girl color and gets overly attached to every weird critter Ford brings home.

Nick is missing a pinkie because Bill cut it off while possessing Ford when he was a baby as a threat. Trying to scare Ford into compliance by threatening to kill the boys. Ford did some very unsafe brain surgery on himself to make it impossible for him to ever sleep again. Cutting off Bill's ability to control him for the most part.

Portal is gone, still living in Gravity Falls though, and keeping an eye out for anyone Bill might try to manipulate. Fidds and his wife are divorced. Emma has primary custody but Tate stays with them in GF during the summers where he often bullies Nik and Newt. But Nik and Newt don't tell their dads about it because they know how much Fidds loves his other son and they don't want to make things complicated for him. Tate is just taking out his frustration over his parents failed marriage on his half-siblings. Fidds takes the twins with him when he visits Tate and the rest of his family in California for Christmas. Ford stays behind because Emma hates him and he doesn't want to deal with her family.

Ford and Fidds aren't married both cause it's not legal yet but also tbh not sure they ever would regardless just cause Ford is pretty disinterested in those sorts of formalities. Whatever it is they have going for them right now works for him.

Heavy thoughts below the cut.

TBH I made myself sad thinking about autistic people and our relationships. The way we love isn't always obvious to NT people and it can sometimes feel like you're not good enough for anyone because loving people in the way you're expected to is such a struggle.

Sometimes I see people frame Ford^2 as this completely unrequited thing and it reminds me of the experience of loving people very intensely but feeling unable to prove it because it's so difficult to live up to the standards most people have in relationships.

I like Fiddlestan as a ship it's cute and a fun idea and I get the appeal but there's a little nagging thought in the back of my head that it kind of implies Ford's neurotypical brother is better. More capable of real love. That Ford was never good enough. Not to say Fiddleford didn't deserve better but the idea that these two couldn't have worked makes me kind of depressed for kind of personal reasons so I wanted to make up a universe where they do.

Not to say there isn't plenty of material of Ford and Fidds reconnecting as old men and making it work but the fact they lost so much of their lives to bad decisions is still sad.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. Additionally, this chapter is the setup for the second half of the entire story! Stuff starts to go downhill again from this point onward. I know I've mentioned that in recent posts, but it's always nice to have a reminder.

Also, I've come down with a pretty bad cold and have pretty bad brain fog and I haven't been able to proof-read chapters 14 and 15 as well, so there might be a bit of a hiatus for a few days while I recover. I'm still online, but i'm operating at 50% brain capacity ;w; I'm also plucking away at a few pallette cleanser stories that are NOT angsty, so stay tuned for those as well!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 13

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You were seated on the closed toilet lid, your hands folded in your lap.  You were perspiring so rapidly you were starting to feel dehydrated.  Your heel bounced spastically against the linoleum floor, making your entire body tremble with the force of your anxiety.  Butterflies filled your chest, an impatient, fearful tingling sensation that spread out over your shoulders and into your head.  You were starting to feel dizzy.

Law was across from you, leaning against the wall with his lead lowered and his arms crossed over his chest.  His inked fingers were drumming against his arm, his own subtle way of channeling his nervous energy outward instead of bottling it in.  His breaths were shallow and uneven, as if he was trying to contain an outburst.

Like a sauna, the air in the room was stifling.  

A developing pregnancy test was sitting on the sink counter.

Here you were again.

“Five minutes,” Law muttered, a sound so faint and airy that you almost didn’t hear it.

You released an airy chuckle, your voice coming out in a wavering quiver.  “No matter how many times we do this, it never gets less stressful.”

Law smirked, letting go a huff of his own, his shoulders bouncing slightly with the motion.  “The passage of time keeps fucking me up, really.  How long has it been since your surgery?”

“A little over four  months now, I think,” you replied, counting in your head.  Four months since your surgery, and almost six months since your miscarriage.

“God,” your husband muttered, gently knocking his head against the tiled wall of your bathroom with a soft thud.  “And here we are once more.”

“Suffering,” you added.

Law barked out a sudden laugh.  “You’re not suffering on my watch, baby.”

You covered your face with your hands, hiding your embarrassed smile.  Law took the opportunity to snatch the pregnancy test off of the counter while you weren’t looking, inwardly fed up with the tension and apprehension.  When you gazed back up at him, your chest contorted at the sight of his face.  He was staring at the white stick, expression completely emotionless.  You absolutely could not tell if he was feeling elated or distressed.

“L-Law…?” you wearily called.

Silently, Law rotated his wrist to reveal the display of the test, his mouth morphing into a smile as he did so.

Two red lines.

Your heart was hammering wildly behind your sternum as you stood from the toilet seat, yanking the stick out of his hands and holding it close to your face, as if the results were false.  The positive line was quite vivid compared to your first positive test, or what you could remember of it.  Your hands were trembling, nervous shivers wracking your entire body as you absorbed the sight in front of you.  Your mind was whirling with incomprehensible thoughts, your neurons firing so rapidly you felt as though your entire psyche was filled with nonsensical radio static.  The corners of your vision grew blurry.

With a broad grin, you once again looked at your husband, who had a rare, toothy smile of his own.

“I’m almost scared to celebrate again,” you whispered.

Law stepped toward you and pulled you into one of his tight hugs you loved so much.  He squeezed you like a boa constrictor, like he was trying to funnel every ounce of affection he had in his weary heart into your soul.  You stifled a wheeze, squeezing him back as hard as you could.  His feet were planted to the ground, the only sound in the small room being your shared breaths of apprehension, nervousness, and excitement.  You could almost feel his own erratic heartbeat through your skin.  His hands were glued to your shoulders and waist as he wrapped you in his embrace, afraid that if he released you you’d disappear in front of him.

He inhaled an uneasy, shaky breath.  “We don’t have to tell anyone so soon this time, if you don’t want to,” he offered.

You inhaled the faint scent of laundry detergent mixed with that lingering hydrogen peroxide smell that always remained on his clothes.  “I think we should still tell Shachi and Penguin, after everything they’ve done to help us…”

Your husband simply hummed in response.  “What would you feel comfortable with?”

You shimmied in his arms, making him release you from his iron grip and step back slightly.  “Maybe we can wait a few weeks and then tell them.  Just to make sure everything is going okay.”

Law nodded, gracing you with that small, polite, slightly insecure smile that you loved so much.  “I like that plan.”

“And,” you continued, “I’ll call Robin tomorrow.”  You smiled to yourself, knowing that was going to be Law’s next question.

Indeed, he smiled.  “You know me too well.”

A faint boof bounced around the narrow halls of your apartment as Bepo demanded attention in the living room, making the two of you chuckle awkwardly after being forced back into reality, enclosed in your small bathroom.  Law began to step away from you, opening the door that was cracked open and stepping out into the rest of your home.  “I’ll take the fur baby outside.”

“Alright,” you replied, voice barely higher than a fleeting breath as you watched him round the corner and walk away, Bepo’s excited paw steps tapping across your floor.  You once again glanced at the test in your hands, a warm feeling swelling in your chest that also fought with an intense feeling of unease.

—

You stared at the pale yellow wall in front of you, your left arm outstretched and resting against a small tray as a tired-looking nurse wrapped a tourniquet around your bicep, pulling it uncomfortably tight and harshly squeezing the fat of your arm.  You watched her out of the corner of your eye as she disinfected the inside of your elbow with an alcohol swab, leaving a cold wet patch of your skin that made you suppress a shiver.  You were somehow wishing she could engage with you in even the most menial of small talk, anything to diminish the sheer awkwardness that permeated the small laboratory room around you.  You subtly winced as you felt the needle be inserted into your arm, followed by a swift cap and a tube to extract a precise vile of blood from your body.  You didn’t consider yourself squeamish by most means, but the sight of your dark red blood pooling rapidly into a plastic laboratory tube made your stomach twist, so you opted to continue looking away until the nurse expertly released the cap, extracted the needle, and covered the vile.  She labeled it with your name and patient number just as quickly as she ripped a portion of medical tape from its roll and used the sticky strip to adhere a piece of gauze to your skin.

“You’re all set, you’ll receive a call from your doctor when your results are in,” she said plainly.  Half of your mind felt a bit sorry for coming into the lab so early in the morning, the poor nurse was probably only halfway through her morning coffee.

You stood from the chair, grabbing your bag from the floor and flashing her an apologetic smile.  “Thank you.”

She simply nodded and placed your tube of blood into a small, white tray, carrying it out of the room and away from your sight.  Your stomach quickly filled the silence with an intense, hardy grumbling.  Shouldering your bag, you briskly exited the lab area, paced through the waiting room of the clinic, and back out through the entrance doors.  The early summer sun beat down on your skin as you walked through the parking lot to your car.  You tossed your bag into your passenger seat, immediately turning your key in the ignition to blast the air conditioning and diminish the stifling warmth that permeated the inside of your vehicle.  You blindly fumbled through your bag for your phone, tapping the screen to pull up your texts with your husband.

Hey babe, i just finished at the lab!  They only took one thing of blood from me, i thought thered be more but im also happy it was only the one  ;3; anyway, i’ll call you when i hear back from the doctor, she said hopefully it shouldnt be more than a day.  Good luck today, i love you!!!!!! ^3^ ^3^ ^3^

You were just about to put your phone back into your bag before the screen lit up once more with an incoming text from Law.  You grinned- he must be on break already.

Baby~~<3

Make sure you eat something filling at brunch, even if it was just one vile you should still replenish.  If you hear back and I don’t respond, I’m most likely in an operation.  I love you so much, baby, I’ll see you later tonight.

Leave it to your husband, always making sure you were on top of your medical needs even while on a shift where he was responsible for 30 other people.  You finally placed your phone back in your bag, putting your car in reverse and beginning your drive.

—

Ikkaku was already waiting for you with a table by the window of the cafe when you arrived.  She smiled, a grin so bright it could blind you, as she eagerly waved you over.  You gleefully followed her motions, plopping down across from her.  She barely gave you time to adjust your posture in your seat before she began excitedly speaking.

“So…?  You said yesterday you had something you wanted to tell me.”  Your curly-haired friend leaned forward with her elbows on the small table.

“Geeze, girl, let me breathe first!” you chuckled.  “I haven’t even registered where I am yet!”

Ikkaku jokingly snapped her fingers.  “Then hurry up!”

With a smile, you gazed downward at the paper menu that had been placed in front of your seat before you arrived.  A milkshake definitely sounded good right now…

“What are you thinking of ordering?” you asked, making Ikkaku huff impatiently, though she quickly gazed over her own menu.

“I was really eyeing up the veggie omelet,” she replied.  “I need something savory or I’ll die.”

You laughed.  “That does sound pretty damn good…” you trailed off, thinking deeply before asking, “Would you want to split an extra large milkshake?”

Ikkaku’s impatience with your dawdling finally dissipated as her large brown eyes lit up in excitement.  “Uhm, fuck yeah I do!”

Soon after, a waitress came by with a small notebook and placed down your orders.  A short stack of pancakes, a veggie omelet, and an extra large chocolate milkshake to share.  Once your table was left alone, you finally leaned forward and grabbed your friend’s attention for the information she was so desperate to hear.

“Okay, I need you to keep this a secret from everyone, and I need you to seriously promise me that,” you began, your voice indicating intense directness that immediately told Ikkaku that you weren’t messing around.

“Of course,” she responded.  “I know I tend to be a chatterbox, but I’ll hold your word.”  She lightly pounded her fist against her chest, a silent symbol of her promise.

You grinned faintly before taking a deep inhale through your mouth and whispering, “I got a positive pregnancy test a week ago.”

Ikkaku sucked in a shocked gasp, pulling her hands to her mouth in bewilderment.  “No way?!”

“Shhh, Ikka!” your hand shot across the small table to land on her mouth in a futile attempt to silence her before the entire cafe knew of your news.  “I’m really keeping it on the down-low for now, since… you know.”

Your friend’s eyes were shining with delight, almost tearing up in the corners as she gazed at you with love only a life-long friend could have.  “That’s incredible, oh my goodness, I’m so excited for you!”  She was finally keeping her voice down, but her wavering squeaks as she talked revealed the sheer amount of effort it was taking her to keep her composure.  “When did you find out?”

“About a week ago,” you replied.  Your lips finally broke into a wider smile as you took in her infectious excitement, though your chest was still fluttering with a fear that had yet to disappear.  “I’m only telling you because I want you to be there in case anything happens again.  I love our friends, but you know how gossipy they can be.  I think I can trust you better than anyone else.”

Ikkaku grabbed your hand that you had reached toward her, clenching it tightly in her own grasp as she followed your posture and leaned over the table.  “You have my word.  You know I’m always a phone call away, in and out of work.”

“Thank you, Ikka…” you responded to her promise with an airy sigh, feeling your own sinuses grow achy with the risk of impending tears.

Your overflowing emotions were quickly subdued when your waitress returned with an astronomically large glass filled to the brim with a rich chocolate milkshake, dolloped with a generous swirl of whipped cream and two maraschino cherries for each of you.  You briskly ripped open your straw and dove it into the sweet drink, taking a long sip to drown your tears.  You refused to cry over a nice brunch, and a little chocolate therapy was always the best medicine.  Ikkaku was giggling at your desperate actions as she inserted her own straw and took a savoring sip of her own.

“Have you told anyone else?” she asked, still keeping her voice fairly low.

Your lips finally released their death grip on the tip of your straw.  “Only Shachi and Penguin.  We wanted them to know first before anyone, because…” you awkwardly tilted your head, hoping you wouldn’t have to bring up the elephant in the room again.  “You know.”

Much to your relief, Ikkaku nodded, understanding your intentions immediately.  “Of course, of course.  I’m glad you have those two living in the same apartment building as you!”

You laughed, running the tip of your finger along the cold glass of the milkshake, collecting some of the condensation on your skin.  “Me too, they’ve basically been raising Bepo for us.  I feel a little bad for the poor thing, honestly… I know he’s probably confused with all the fussing going on in our home.”

Ikakku grinned.  “If you ever need some extra hands for that polar bear you know where to find me!”

Your waitress returned for a third time, this time bearing two plates of food, both dishes steaming and filling your nostrils with the addicting scent of a weekend brunch.  Your mouth was watering as your pancakes were placed in front of you, golden brown and perfectly cooked on either side, moist and subtly sweet, the succulent aroma of the small amount of cinnamon in the batter warming your soul.  You quickly got to work dolling up your plate with a small amount of butter and a bountiful drizzle of fresh maple syrup from your table.

“Ikka, how’s your–”  Your sentence was cut off when you finally glanced up at your best friend just as she shoved a heaping fork-full of crispy home fries into her mouth.  Her wide, brown eyes stared back at you like a deer caught in headlights.  You were laughing at her display, your shoulders bouncing as you reached for your own fork.  “Nevermind, I think you just answered my question.”

—

[CODE PINK]

Law’s heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he rounded the corner of the cardiac ICU into the room where the code was directed, already spotting his colleagues surrounding a bed with the crash cart.  A male nurse was positioned on his knees on the bed, frantically performing CPR on the small figure beneath the blankets.  As if his actions were second nature, he approached the crash cart and assumed an authoritative roll, preparing the on-board defibrillation machine for immediate use.

A blood-curdling scream reverberated around the small space, a nurse at Law’s side rushing over to the entrance of the room to usher a panic-stricken woman out of the area.  Her cries were deafening, making a younger nurse across the bed from the surgeon wince, her face flushing red with adrenaline-fueled horror.

“DEFIB is ready,” Law called, passing the machine off to a technician who expertly manned the paddles, timing his procedure with the nurse performing CPR.  A few more nurses, as well as Dr. Tony entered the room and began their assistant procedures for the code.

Law finally got a glimpse of the body under the sheets.  A young boy, no more than ten years old, was laying limp, eyes wide open and glued to the ceiling, yet reflecting no light.  The tiny child’s skin was paler than the white walls of the hospital room.  His form lurched with the force of the defibrillator, which only did so much to muffle the sounds of the screaming, crackling sobs from the hallway.  A heart monitor, connected to the child’s skin with sticky electrode pads, was showing zero signs of life.  A different nurse assumed his position on the bed to continue administering CPR, but as soon as he forced his gloved hands down onto the boy’s chest, a trickle of blood exited the corner of the child’s mouth.

“Stop,” Law immediately called.  He stepped forward, pressing two fingers against the neck of the boy, right under his jaw.  No pulse.  His skin was icy cold, sending a chill up Law’s spine.  A tiny stream of blood continued to trickle from the child’s mouth.  His ribs were surely broken after the force of the compressions on his fragile body.  The ECG monitor on the crash cart continued to display no signs of cardiac activity.  The mother of the boy continued wailing from the hallway, the sound now the only thing filling the ears of the workers in the solemn room.

The nurses surrounding the table tossed nervous, frustrated, and pained glances at each other while waiting for Law to respond.

The black-haired surgeon tossed a glance at the digital clock hanging on the far wall.  “Time of death is 11:47 AM.  Dr. Tony, can you please contact the coroner and have him report to room 204 immediately?”

The younger doctor vigorously nodded.  “Yes, sir.”  He departed the room in a hurry, headed to the nearest nurses’ station for a pager.

“The rest of you,” Law continued.  “Please secure the room.  I’m going to speak to the patient’s mother.”

The nurses and technicians silently cleaned the scene, wiping down the face of the boy and closing his lifeless, marbled eyes.  Law paced out of the room and into the hallway, where the mother, at least that’s what he assumed, was still draped over a nurse, wailing in sheer desperation and agony.  Law attempted to keep his shoulders poised, exuding an air of confidence and humility as he approached.  The nurse looked up as Law stepped closer, obviously doing her hardest to hold in her own heavy tears.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Law called, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.  “I’m sorry, but your son–”

He barely had time to think before a harsh slap was planted against his cheek.  A sharp, intense stinging sensation spread throughout his skin and his tongue got caught in between his molars, making him involuntarily clamp down on the muscle as his entire body was lurched to the side with the force of the blow.  The metallic taste of blood began to flood his mouth, making him cringe as he was forced to swallow it instead of spitting it out onto the hospital floor.  His sharp, golden eyes gazed at the woman who had landed the blow on his face.  She looked furious, almost feral, and her hand was contorted into a fist that she was clearly keen on using against him.

“FUCK YOU,” she screamed, her voice cracking in despair.  “YOU KILLED HIM.  YOU KILLED MY SON.”

More colleagues from the hallway who witnessed the scene approached, attempting to assist the weary nurse in restraining the frantic woman while a few others made desperate calls for the closest security officer.  Law simply stood across from her, stunned yet stoic, as he felt a trickle of blood flow down his cheek.  Her wedding ring must have scratched him.  

More curses were lobbed in his direction.  “How can you just stand there and look like that after you let my son die?!  How can you just go about your life as normal after letting him die?!”  The nurse originally holding the woman was releasing a quiet plea, her voice audibly trembling, begging her to take a step back and let her guide her to a quiet room where she could calm down and grieve, but the mother’s screams were too loud.

A security officer’s heavy footsteps bounded down the hallway, his gear jingling on his belt.  The officer placed his gloved hand on Law’s shoulder, forcing the doctor to take a step back.  “We’ll take care of her, go clean yourself up, doctor.”

Law gazed fiercely at the officer.  “You better show her some compassion.”  He turned tail and briskly paced back toward the doctor’s only area, entering the private restroom and flicking on the light.

He cringed at the sight of himself in the mirror.  Sure enough, a long, yet somewhat shallow, slash was dug into the tan skin of his left cheek, dribbling slow-moving blood down his skin.  He winced when he trailed his fingertips over the wound, the heavy, dull ache clearly the sign of a hefty bruise developing on his cheek bone.  He opened his mouth, leaning closer to the mirror to get a glimpse at the inside of his mouth.  He had bit his tongue, leading to a painful gash in the muscle that continued to bleed sour, coppery blood into his mouth.  It coated his back molars with a morbid crimson.  He silently bent over the sink, turning on the tap and collecting water into his hands that he readily slurped up, swishing around his mouth and spitting back into the sink bowl.  The water was a vibrant pink, heavy with blood.  His tongue stung from the contact the foreign liquid made with the muscle.  He splashed some more water on his face, cleaning off the cut in his cheek that continued to ooze blood for a few more moments before finally slowing a beginning to clot.  He swished water in his mouth a few more times.

Law’s hands remained poised on the bowl of the sink, supporting his weight as he leaned over the tap, struggling to take in enough oxygen.  His arms were trembling as adrenaline continued to pump through his body.  He tossed himself a scalding glare in the mirror as he pushed himself away from the sink and left the bathroom.

—

You were still awake when Law sulked through the door.  His shoulders were slumped, his entire posture ragged and weary as he followed his usual routine of kicking off his shoes, shrugging off his jacket, and dropping his bag to the floor.  Your greeting was silenced by yourself as you took in his visibly distraught demeanor, a large, white bandage on his left cheek, a black and blue bruise flourishing underneath the wrapping.  Law’s eyes appeared sunken in and red, as if he hadn’t slept in a year.

“Honey…?” you called meekly, standing up from your spot on the couch and meeting him halfway in the living room.

Silently, Law took your hand, led you into your bedroom, and pulled you down onto the bed with him.  The way his hand was violently trembling in your grasp made your heart ache in your chest.  He wordlessly buried his head into your neck, wrapping his long legs around your own and holding you as close as he could with his arms around your body.

It didn’t take a genius to guess the kind of day he had.  You followed his silence, lacing one of your arms around his shoulder and weaving your other hand into his hair, running your fingers through the slightly greasy strands of raven-black in the way you knew he loved.  

A warm, wet sensation seeped through the collar of your cotton shirt.

[osamusbigtits]

tananoya inspired by this art that immediately got my brain thinking.

~

nishinoya stares at the letter he wrote. a letter he might give to tanaka. a letter that could change everything.

he's spent too much time on it. many discarded, crumpled up sheets of paper surround him. he taps his eraser against his desk.

nishinoya frowns.

this is so unlike him. he doesn't know how to deal with these nerves that eat at his chest. he doesn't understand how he can be so flustered when he flirts with girls any chance he gets.

so why does it feel so different with tanaka?

nishinoya folds up the letter and places it in an envelope before he can crunch it up and throw it away. it's his best one yet. clear and concise.

he's not good with words. at all. and tanaka is aware, even teases him about it. but nishinoya wants this to be good. he wants it to make sense, no hidden meanings. he wants to have tanaka read it and understand him.

he seals it and write tanaka's name on it. he slips it into his bag and throws himself into bed.

nishinoya's chest aches. he wants to rid himself of this ache. but he doesn't know if tanaka feels the same way.

~

tanaka laughs at a dumb joke nishinoya made as he opens his locker. nishinoya's heart flutters between the laugh and the sight of that letter he wrote. the one that confesses everything. the one that could ruin everything.

"oh. uh. I almost forgot. I was gonna meet up with suga before practice. I should head out," nishinoya says quickly. he takes a few steps back when tanaka gives him a questioning look.

"you're not failing again, are you? we really need our libero." tanaka's concern makes nishinoya's heart sink.

"nah. it'll be fine. I'll tell you more later." nishinoya turns and jogs away before tanaka can further question him.

his heart pounds in his chest as he walks to the gym, a few other teammates filing in. hinata and kageyama are already on the court, arguing with each other. nishinoya would laugh if it didn't feel like he needed open heart surgery.

asahi and sugawara sit next to each other in the corner of the gym. nishinoya rushes over to them and falls to his knees. "I need you to let me go home. tell daichi I don't feel good. whatever it takes. please, just let me have this mercy for once," nishinoya begs.

sugawara raises an eyebrow. "did you annoy kiyoko one too many times today? you deserve whatever comes from that."

but asahi has a knowing look in his eyes. nishinoya silently pleads to asahi, eyes wide and pout evident.

asahi sighs. "you have to face it, noya."

nishinoya groans and dramatically falls back.

"do I need to call the police?" sugawara asks.

asahi laughs. "no. noya just has a crush. not on kiyoko."

sugawara hums in understanding. nishinoya wants to crawl into a hole. all the way to the center of the earth.

nishinoya doesn't see tanaka walk in, the letter crushed in one hand and his cheeks stained bright red.

asahi glances behind nishinoya. "I guess you are going to face it."

nishinoya whips his head around so fast, it makes s joint in his neck pop. he and tanaka make eye contact.

nishinoya wants to run away. so far and so fast. maybe he'll change his name and move to a different country. he's heard that india isn't so bad. maybe he could go to korea.

"can we talk?" tanaka asks.

his heart pounds against his ribs as he nods.

here it comes, he thinks as he follows tanaka out of the gym. here's the end. the rejection, right? because nishinoya hadn't even bothered to ask if tanaka was into boys.

"I'm sorry," nishinoya blurts as soon as they step outside. "I'm sorry. we can just pretend this never happened, yeah?" he laughs nervously. "we can just rip that up. and we go back to how we used to be. normal noya and tanaka-"

"I don't want things to be how we used to be," tanaka says. nishinoya's heart sinks. "I want..." tanaka squeezes his eyes shut. "I like you, too!"

the world stops.

no really, it seems to freeze in time. nishinoya stops feeling the wind, stops hearing voices and animals and the sounds of cars. everything pauses as nishinoya stares at his best friend in disbelief.

"you do?"

tanaka swallows. "I do."

nishinoya can't stop the nervous laugh that bubbles out of his chest. "I wasn't expecting that."

luckily, tanaka laughs as well. "you were acting so weird all day, I thought you were gonna tell me you were moving or something. I'm just glad its this not something horrible."

nishinoya clenches his fists together before releasing them. "so what now?"

tanaka hesitates. "well, we date, right?"

nishinoya's face heats up. "y-yeah."

tanka nods. "yeah. right. uh. um, yeah."

they stare at each other.

"let's go to practice and then we can talk more," nishinoya suggests.

tanaka relaxes. "oh. yeah. that sounds perfect."

nishinoya and tanaka walk into the gym with smiles plastered to their faces.

daichi asks if there's a prank he has to be worried about.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Tim Drake & Jason Todd Angst Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

in the planter outside my front door by CosmoKid - Rated G

When Tim’s six years old, his third-grade class takes a field trip to the old firehouse in The Narrows.

By the age of seven years old, he’s learned that there’s a difference between pain and Pain, and that while adults are generally happy to deal with pain, they do not enjoy you talking about Pain.

These two things may be related.

This Dark Ceiling Without a Star by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday - Rated M

“For fuck’s sake, your chatter is going to drive me crazy faster than this stupid spell.” “Then you talk!” “There’s no point!” Jason snaps. “I can feel it, okay. It’s—there’s no emotion behind it, it’s not using my thoughts. It’s just a bunch of weird Greek echoing in my brain and a compulsion to act. And it’s getting stronger. Talking isn’t going to slow it down.” “Then what will slow it down?” After five long seconds of silence, Tim gives into the urge and viciously jabs his fist into Jason’s leg for the second time. “Goddammit, why?” Jason snaps, green briefly sparking in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. “You are not seriously going to just sit there and wait to die.” “The hell do you care anyway?” “Because I don’t want you to die! Obviously!” “You fucking should.” 

unaware i'm tearing you asunder by hendecagrisms - Rated T

The pieces were starting to click into place, aligning to create a deeply disturbing picture. “Are you seriously saying you’ll become a missing person and fake your death for this stupid homecoming plan?” Jason interrupted, his voice full of as much judgmental incredulity as possible. The kid’s eyes skated back over to him, his face twitching into a brief frown. “What? No.” A pause. “I mean, we could do that instead, if you wanted. But to fool Batman I’d need facial reconstruction surgery and new papers and it would all have to be untraceable—,” he broke off with a scoff, shaking his head slightly. “No, it’s just smarter and more cost-efficient to do it for real.” - Tim learns about Jason Todd's return, does some research on the Lazarus Pit, and realizes that there might be a way to solve multiple problems all at once: removing himself from the picture. For some strange reason, the Red Hood doesn't seem keen on cooperating.

Grin and Bear It (I got blood on your carpet) by Alia_JuneBug - Not Rated

When Jack Drake’s business trip gets canceled, he is forced to stay at home while the legal kinks get worked out. He’s not used to having a teenager underfoot, so it’s only rational that he’s a little snappish around Tim. At least, that’s what Tim tells himself each time his dad’s idea of discipline gets harsher. Bruce had told him to take a break from Robin in order to spend some time at home with his dad, and Tim can’t say no to that. He knows Bruce is probably glad to be rid of him for a short while. And he can handle discipline. This is a Tim Drake problem, not a Robin problem anyway. There’s no need for Bruce to know anything. Things get a little muddled when an injured Jason Todd crawls through his bedroom window.

Thrown into the Storm by ThePokeOne - Rated T

"It figured, Tim thought as he trekked through Gotham's streets in one of the worst storms he'd ever seen. He'd been careless. So stupidly careless."

Or:

Tim gets kicked out, and Jason has a change of plans.

am i the only one pretending (i did it to myself) by rutaceae - Rated T

Tim doesn’t expect his latest civilian kidnapping to be any different from the rest, but when he remembers things best left buried in the past, things take a turn for the worse. Luckily, his family is here to help.

sallow skin (and they can’t look away) by Ghxst_Bird - Rated T

Bruce is off planet when Robin’s distress beacon is lit. He tries not to worry, but then Nightwing contacts him: Robin’s tracker leads straight into Gotham Bay.

1-800-ROBIN by spqr - Rated T

“Gotham Youth Mental Health Hotline, this is Jason speaking. Can I ask who I’m talking to?” There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and then a small voice says, “I, um. Sorry, I don’t know why I called. This was a mistake. I’ll just hang up now.” “Hey, wait.” Jason drops his feet to the floor, sitting forward in his shitty cubicle. Suddenly his heart is racing and he’s not sure why, but he can’t let this kid hang up. “You don’t have to tell me your name. That’s okay. Just – why don’t you tell me why you’re calling?”

buy the ticket, take the ride by Anonymous - Rated M

Tim had always figured that if he ever woke up in Vegas sans-memory, it would be when he was older than fourteen. But there were some things he couldn’t control, and apparently whatever had happened last night that he didn’t remember was one of them.

hungry for strays by Ghxst_Bird - Rated T

Tim knows something is wrong with Batman and Nightwing, and somehow it all has to do with the new crime lord on the rise in crime alley. So of course he’s not going to stay at the manor while they’re out risking their lives. Tim leaves a note and sets out for intel on the Red Hood. Aka. Everyone is straight up not having a good time

Safe and Warm by sardonic_sprite - Rated G

Batman.

Batman lived right next door. Batman surely had a generator, or at least a fireplace and wood, or some way to get warm.

Batman took care of kids, and Mr. Wayne was really nice. He would at least let Tim warm himself back up. Maybe he could even stay just until the power came back on.

It was worth a shot.

Nervous Breakdown by AhsokaJackson - Rated T

Jay closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to push back the encroaching headache. And possibly the admittedly ironic desire to strangle this kid for his lack of self-care instincts. "Tim. Timmy. Answer me this. Where exactly is the old man? Actually, better question: Why in the ever-living hell is the answer to that anything other than 'right here'?" Tim gave a huff that sounded more tired than defiant. "Because, like I said, it's a mild case and I don't need to be under observation. I already told Bruce the same thing I told you: I'm fine." "And he believed that."

Don't You Know? by sardonic_sprite - Rated T

“How the hell did you think taking everything the real Robin had was going to make him proud of you?” Jason snapped. “I didn’t want to take anything,” Replacement cried. “I wanted to save it. It… Batman… they were… everything was just… It was awful, and, and Gotham needed… but Robin…” The kid looked up at Jason, desperation in his eyes, like he was trying to find justification from his accuser. “I-I know he wouldn’t have wanted Batman to die.”

Living Dead Boy by Terranpheum - Rated T

Tim was having a normal night photographing Batman and mourning the dead when Jason Todd suddenly breaks out of his own grave. He's unresponsive and catatonic, and Tim knows there's no way he can leave the boy on his own. So, he brings him back to Drake Manor to try and help him recover. It goes… well?

Instead of All the Colors That I Saw by SilverSkiesAtMidnight - Rated T

Dick comes around to stand fully in front of him, keeping a steadying hand on Tim’s arm. “Just because you know you’re safe intellectually doesn’t mean you always feel safe,” he says softly. “It’s okay if you don’t feel safe.” “But it’s not okay!” Tim bursts out. “Because if I don’t feel safe, then how is Jason supposed to feel safe? He shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable just because my brain is screwed up!” There’s a faint sound by the door, barely more than an intake of breath, and his eyes snap to the no-longer empty doorway.

The Worst Kind of Crush by TimDrakeIsMyPatronus - Rated T

Civilians came first.  It was one of the foundational truths of being a superhero. Their job was to save civilians regardless of the personal cost. Each of them knew and understood the risks associated with the cape when they put it on.  Still, rules got fuzzy when one woke up underneath a building.  Or the one where a building explodes and Tim is trapped under the rubble

Last Request by destiny919 - Rated T

"Any last words, Replacement?" Red Hood casually crouches down in front of him. "Or how about a last request? I'm feeling generous. I'll do you one last favor before I clip those little wings. Whatever you want. Sky's the limit." There's only one thing he's ever really wanted from Jason Todd.

Echoes of You by SilverSkiesAtMidnight - Rated T

Graveyard mud, heavy and dark, clinging to a stained and torn suit. One shoe missing, a leg bent awkwardly and blood staining a bare foot.

Milk white skin beneath the mud, black hair hanging in muddy clumps around his ears. Blue eyes staring back at him, animal-bright and dilated in the brief moment before he flinches back from the light with a cry of pain that stabs through Jason to the soul.

His shaking hand closes around the flashlight before he can even think about it, cutting off the piercing beam and letting it spill out in shards between his fingers. For a petrifying moment as his eyes readjust, he’s sure that when he looks again, there will be nothing there.

“Tim?” he whispers.

The lean and ragged figure, tiny, god he’s so small, lowers his hands away from his face, away from his eyes wide and glittering almost silver in the moonlight.

Hands, mud-covered and torn. The red of his shredded fingernails is sickeningly dark in the broken light.

He’s vomiting before he even feels the bile making its way up his throat.

Petals for Armor by SilverSkiesAtMidnight - Rated T

There’s a small half-moon of blood under the white of Tim’s nail where he bent it. He studies the red of it, feeling foggy and dreamlike. “Can I ask you a question?” His brother’s eyes flick to him and away again, surprised and wary. “What?” His nail doesn’t hurt much, just the dullest of aches when he presses down against it. “When you were homeless, you slept with people for money, didn’t you?” Jason jerks like he’s been slapped. His knuckles are so pale where they grip the steering wheel they suddenly look more bone than flesh. “Did I -” “Was it worth it?” Tim asks, drifting like a cloud over whatever furious reaction Jason was about to give him. “The money, I mean.” His sternum slams into the seatbelt with bruising force. Unbraced for it, his head whips forward and back against his seat as they swerve off the road again and skid to a halt with a screech of rubber.

farthest you’ve ever flown by rutaceae - Rated T

When Jack Drake kicks Tim out in a rage, Tim, not wanting to be a bother, tries to make it work without getting the Bats involved. But he can only go so long without being found out, and it’s not Batman that ends up discovering his secret; it’s the Red Hood.

Familial Ties by AnonymousWhump - Rated T

What he wasn't expecting was to walk into the kitchen to find Tim,  yes Tim because he wasn't in the Robin outfit he was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, was that blood on his feet?  Staring at him in shock, eyes flicking from him to the phone in his hand, before mumbling a quiet,

“Jason?”  

Or, Jason breaks into the Titan's Tower to hurt Robin but his plan is quickly derailed when he sees signs of abuse.

Drop In by iselsis - Rated T

Tim's injured, alone in Crime Alley, and the worst possible person finds him. And yet it doesn't turn out as badly as Tim expected.

Watch Your Step Dear by Redaliveviolation - Rated T

Tim was having a great time watching the Dynamic Duo race across Gotham. He was getting so many good photos and he never wanted these nights to end. Too bad the heroes aren’t around when he takes a trip off of the side of a building.