#i have like only a little over a month left ughhhhhhhhhh

[lo-cinno]

Hi

I’m fucking dying

[malum-af-cth]

time after time

Summary: You and Ashton have been trying for a baby, it hasn’t been really working out, and you have been struggling. (Lol Father’s Day USA.)

Pairing: Ashton x Reader (lace)

Warnings: Angst, mention of miscarriage

a/n: this literally took me forever to write I started writing it like a year ago. Today I sat down reevaluated what I had and finished it. This is what I got. :) thanks for reading.

Word Count: 1878 ish

masterlist. 

I had just gotten back from the store with another box of pregnancy tests. I had run out a couple days ago, and I was gonna need some more. Ashton and I had been trying for a baby again for a few months, and we had not had any luck.

I got out of my car in the parking garage of our building and made my way upstairs to our apartment. I was hoping that Ashton wouldn’t be home so I could hide the new box of tests and clean up a little before he came home.

I made my way to the front door and went inside. I decided to hide the box of tests somewhere that my husband would never look, the spice cabinet. Once I put the tests behind the cinnamon and garlic salt, I made my way to the bedroom to get the laundry.

Washing my clothes and Ashton’s was going to take a while seeing how he had just gotten back from tour about three weeks ago. It had been about three days since the rest of his belongings had arrived at our apartment. While I was going through some of his clothes, I found some new ones. I assumed that some of the shirts could have belonged to the other boys, but Ash had probably bought some things while he was traveling.

This wasn’t our first time trying for a baby. We had attempted before, we were successful, in the beginning. I was pregnant for about five months. Then one night when I woke up, with a sharp pain in my stomach.

“ahhhhhhhhhh”  I screamed, clutching my stomach. The pain I felt in my stomach was like no other. It was worse than any period cramp I had ever experienced. I could feel the bed shift next to me as Ashton was waking up. He immediately turned on his bedside lamp and then quickly held me by my shoulders trying to comfort me.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Are you ok? Is it the baby?” he said slowly rubbing my back trying to soothe me.

“It’s my stomach, I think it is the baby,” I said frantically, “we need to go to the hospital now!”  

“ughhhhhhhhhh!” I screamed again, the pain was excruciating. I couldn’t see as well, due to the pain. From what I could hear Ashton was quickly putting on some clothes, as I sat trying to understand what was going on with my body. I could hear him shuffling around the room, and then I felt him helping me up off the bed. As I got up, I saw a blur of red on our white bed sheets.

I pulled some of the clothes that I had washed and dried out of the dryer to fold them. I took the bundle of clothes to our bedroom, along the way there, I saw a small bag on the floor hidden under a table in the hall. I had finished putting away the clean clothes when my thoughts were brought back to that small bag I saw on the floor. I picked it up and looked inside, I saw a small piece of clothing and pulled it out. As I looked at it, I realized that is was a baby onesie. It was black with long sleeves, and footie covers. On the front it read, “rock out with your blocks out.” it also had a picture of some blocks that resembled legos. I slowly ran my fingers across the front of the outfit, craving the feeling that being pregnant had brought me.

I was so engrossed by the memory of my miscarriage, I hadn’t realized that I had been crying. I wiped the tears from my face and placed the onesie back in the bag. I put the bag back where I got it from. I was feeling curious and impatient, so decided to go see if I was pregnant yet.

I pulled the test from its hiding spot and made my way to the bathroom. I was nervous, a little more than normal. This was the first time I was taking a test this week, and it was only Tuesday. I began pacing around the bathroom, waiting for the need to pee come back. I had been drinking a lot of water earlier with the intent to be able to take this test.

To say I was afraid would have been an understatement. I was trying everything just to pee. I turned on the sink and thought about water. I even thought about doing some kind of rain dance just because I thought the constant moving would work, and I got lucky because it did. I had to practically run to the bathroom without tripping. I knew Ashton was gonna be home soon. 

I was afraid of him coming home while I was waiting for the results and it not being positive. I didn’t want to disappoint him again. Ashton and I have been together long enough for me to know how his brain worked. Being a father has always been at the top of his list of goals. I couldn’t stop laughing the first night we ever talked about having a future together.

“I mean just imagine it, Lace having four or five jr’s running around the house,” he explained walking around the living room. This was the most animated I have ever seen him be about something that was not music related.

“Ash, baby, we have only been dating for four months, and you already want kids?” I knew he didn’t want to have kids unless we were married, but at this moment I knew teasing him would bring me more humor than the show playing on the tv behind him.

I had thought that he barely heard me, but after I asked him my question, he stopped in his tracks, put his forefinger and thumb on his chin as he was thinking. The next thing I knew he ran over to me on the couch. Scooped me, my blanket, and my water bottle up in his arms and ran to the bedroom.

“Ashton Fletcher, what on earth are you doing?” I said trying not to fall or drop anything.

“We definitely are not ready to have kids yet, but we should probably start practicing for the future…” he said with a chuckle and a wink.

I laughed at the memory, knowing that at this rate we had learned that practice doesn't make perfect. At least in our book, it made progress. I was just about to check the results when I heard Ashton yelling for me from the kitchen. I quickly shoved the test in the bathroom drawer without looking and went out to greet him.

“Hey babe, did you just get home?” I said rearing the corner to see Ash with Mitchy Collins and Josh Raven. They were all drinking beer and chilling. I walked over to Ash who was sitting on our island, gave him a kiss, stole his beer and went to the couch.

I loved his friends because they were my friends too, but I was a little too stressed out right now to deal with anyone other than my husband.

Ashton had started to respond when I heard Josh say, “Welp, I guess that's our cue to leave mitch.” He and I had been pretty good friends since ash helped Josh and his band with some music. I heard them start to say their goodbye’s. I didn’t want them to leave because I was having a moment, so I went back over to Ash and gave him his beer back.

“You guys don’t have to leave, I just need ya’ll out in about an hour,” I said with a smile. Turning to ash, I whispered in his ear, “You are good to have them here for a bit, I am okay. But don’t forget you are the one who wanted to do a little practicing when you got home today.” I heard him release a heavy breath as I pulled away. I took another sip of his beer, set it in his hand. Bid adieu to our friends, each with a hug, and went to my office to get some work done while they were hanging out.

The guys were at our house for another half hour before I heard Ashton going into our bathroom, and a partial panic arose inside of me. I had forgotten about the test and was kind of hoping to find out if we had been successful or not before him. I never wanted him to be disappointed again. I knew I couldn’t protect him forever.

So I got up from my desk and started to make my way to our bathroom. As I got closer I heard a faint sobbing, I started to walk slower, afraid of what I was about to encounter. Seeing Ashton with the test was what I was expecting, but it still took the breath out of my lungs. I wanted to rush to his side and comfort him because his reaction was leading me to believe the worst right now, but when he stood up, turned to me, a smile spread to his face, I knew I could have hope.

He wiped away his tears and asked me with his eyes when, and how long I knew. At that moment I couldn’t wait any longer I ran to him and hugged him in the hope that we had become a full family again.

“Ashton, what does it say?” I asked with my arms wrapped tightly around him, hoping for the best. Afraid to let go and find out the worst. He rubbed my back with his free hand and then pulled away. We were still so close that our foreheads were resting on each other and he started to speak softly.

“Baby, we did it. We made progress.” with his words; I opened my eyes and looked at his hand to see the two pink stripes. I was finally able to breathe again. I looked up at my husband again brought my hands to his face and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.

We were soon out of breath but in such a desperate need for each other. I could feel my husband start to back us up into the hallway.

“Josh, Mitchy!” he yelled, and the boys popped their heads around the corner “um so… my wife is pregnant, and I gotta make sure my kid stays in there this time. So ima need you assholes to get out of my house so I can make love to her.” the boys looked at each other, then back at us. I was now leaning against the wall with Ashton towering over me, his left hand on the wall and his right on my waist, my arms wrapped around his torso and my right foot on the wall behind me. I heard them scrambling shouting their final goodbyes and rushing out the door.

Ashton chuckled as his friends' actions, shook his head and turned his focus back to me. I could see the glow of happiness in his eyes, and at that moment I was ready to do this again with the love of my life.

He brought his lips to my ear and whispered the most beautiful thing I’d heard all day, “Now where were we my love? Ah, yes celebrating our victory.”

tags: @5sexonds-of-smut @ghostofbabylon @winkwinkluke @irwinstuffs

[currentlyunderyourarmpit]

I'm going to scream. a little over a month ago I was getting a tattoo and in the middle of the appt. someone came into the shop and asked if >my car< belonged to anyone.

atp I was like 'oh shit, I parked in the wrong spot', but no. if only. he said someone hit my car in the parking lot (which was shared by several businesses including, notably, a bar) and asked if I could come outside because the man who hit it was looking for me.

(note at this point my artist, who followed me out, and I were the only people wearing masks)

the man had been parked next to me and, upon exiting the bar (which he was patronizing during covid for reasons unknown to me) smashed my rear bumper and tail light as he pulled out.

he stopped once someone called him out for hitting my car (he mantained that he didn't realize, I'm honestly inclined to believe him) and stuck around looking for me in the bar, until the other guy thought to check the tattoo parlor.

he gave me his information and promised to pay for any and all damages he could afford and then left. at this point, I was slightly stunned by the events and, being bad at social cues already, had not put together the dots that he was drunk, (despite his slurred speech, recklessness, and the fact that he had just left a bar) until my artist and another from the shop who had been watching all of the interaction pointed it out.

he had already driven away atp.

I finished my appt. after this, and I'm pretty sure my artist ended up charging me less than she had intended. once I got home I texted the man, he called me the next day swearing he'd pay for it. I found a shop and we met there. he gave them what they estimated it would cost. (around $1,750)

fast forward three (maybe four) whole weeks and they finally had the parts (they'd been on backorder) I brought my car in. by the end of the week they said it'd be ready but they needed another $100. I texted the dude and he gave them the extra money, but then I got another text from them saying it actually wouldn't be ready until after the weekend, this past Monday. I was a little annoyed but figured, whatever, I'll finally have my car and it won't be fucked up anymore. nope.

they texted me again Monday afternoon and said one of the parts they'd ordered was incorrect. they had to order the correct part before they could finish. as you can imagine I was extremely pissed at this point.

then today I got another message saying that the part I needed is no longer in production and they can't get it. they are "finding another avenue" to fix my car.

I really just want my car back. I'm working at a place 10mi away. I've been having to get rides and borrow my mom's car when she's not working. I have an interview coming up, and my (vaccinated) parents are going out of state to visit my grandparents. I just really, really want my car back. I've never been in an accident, never tapped someone, nothing. I've only been driving for less than two years but I'm a better driver than many of the people I know. this is extremely frustrating. at the very least I don't have to pay for it, because it would've wiped out my savings.

ughhhhhhhhhh

[nielution]

The Bet

My upsettingly late contribution for Nursey Week day 3, using the Overindulgence prompt. Warnings for alcoholism, alcohol and drug use, and self harm.

It starts with a bet.

Well, bet is a little misleading. Too playful a term.

It starts with a high-stakes wager.

No, that doesn’t quite work either. This is not a matter left up to chance.

It starts like this.

“Chill, Farms. I don’t have a problem. I’m just having fun, don’t make this into more than it is.”

“‘I don’t have a problem,’ he says over his third cup of tub juice,” Caitlin says, glaring at the drink in Derek’s hand as if it personally insulted her.

“Yes, Caitlin,” Derek says, waving his drink around as he speaks. “Because I am the only one drinking at this party.”

Caitlin rolls her eyes and winces as someone bumps into her. The two of them are standing against a wall, trying to avoid the sea of bodies but still getting hit every few seconds. Caitlin would swear that each person who bumps into her is a little more drunk than the last. That point is one on which Derek will not fight her. Unfortunately, it is the only point to which this applies.

“I’m not saying you’re the only one drinking,” Caitlin says, inadvertently getting closer to Derek in her agitation. “I’m saying that you’re the only one who has a designated patrol that his team created to stop him from blacking out or hurting himself or others!”

“Yeah, remind me to tell Bitty never to put you on Nursey Patrol again,” Derek mutters. Caitlin kind of wants to smack him, but she’s sober enough to realize that that is very much not the best course of action. Instead, her perpetually competitive nature prevails.

“I have an idea,” Caitlin says, a shine in her eye that arouses even drunk Derek’s suspicions.

“Do tell,” he replies, deadpan.

“I bet that you can’t go a full month without drinking or doing drugs.” Caitlin smiles triumphantly.

“Bets have to have terms,” Derek says. The idea does not scare him. Not one bit.

“If you drink or do any drugs– medication not included– over the course of the next month, I will personally accompany you to an AA meeting. If you don’t, I’ll never bother you about this again.”

Derek breathes. He breathes most of the time, but these breaths are the kind that are more noticeable to bystanders and to the breather himself. They call attention to themselves. Deep, intentional, “I am going to regret this later” kinds of breaths.

“Sure,” he says once he has breathed enough, and with his most dazzling Samwell’s Fifty Hottest cover smile, Derek sticks out the hand not currently attached to his cup of tub juice and waits. Caitlin takes his hand and shakes it firmly.

“That’s it, then,” Caitlin says. “Good luck!” She plucks the cup out of Derek’s hand and puts it to her lips as she walks away. Derek is already starting to regret taking that bet.

—–

“Ughhhhhhhhhh.” “I know, sweetie.” “UUUUGGGHHHHHHH.” “I know.” “She’s the devil,” Derek moans, resting his head on the Haus kitchen table and kicking his feet like a child.

“Caitlin Farmer is an absolute angel,” Bitty says, shooting Derek a look.

Derek lifts his head so that he can properly look Bitty in the eye. “You know, Lucifer was an angel.”

Bitty rolls his eyes, throwing the cloth that usually rests on the oven’s handle at Derek’s head. “Don’t be so dramatic, Nursey. You agreed to that little wager, didn’t you?”

Derek groans and lets his head make contact with the table again, this time creating an audible thunk. It has been sixteen days since he has had any kind of mind-altering substances, and he’s fucking miserable.

No. He’s not miserable. That would imply a dependence. Derek can totally function without alcohol. He just doesn’t want to.

—–

Twenty-three days since Derek’s last drink. Twenty-three annoying but not excruciating days. It’s almost getting fun, this little game he’s playing. Until it stops being fun.

Until his father picks up the phone.

Derek knows it’s stupid, who worked up he’s getting. It’s just three innocent texts:

Dad: Hey Derek! Dad: How are you doing? Dad: I miss you :(

It’s sweet. It’s sweet, that’s what it is. His dad texting to check up on him and make sure Derek knows he’s loved and cared for. Except that the last text from Derek’s dad is from two months ago.

Still, he thinks. He’s trying. I should appreciate this. Be happy about it. Instead, Derek is shaking. It’s stupid, it’s so stupid, and he just wants his hands to still.

Derek gets up and walks over to his minifridge. He’s got his hand on a beer bottle when he remembers the bet. One drink won’t make or break anything, he thinks. Farmer won’t find out. He’s got the bottle pressed to his lips when he shakes his head roughly and shoves the bottle back inside the fridge. No, this bet isn’t just for Farmer. It’s for Derek, too. Proof that he’s right, that his enjoyment of alcohol is nothing more than enjoyment.

Derek’s phone goes off and he flinches hard. He picks it up and sees that it’s just a text from Chowder, squealing about a Sharks win. Derek clicks on the conversation with his father again and sees the bubble that shows his dad is typing.

Derek turns his phone off.

It’s not that Derek doesn’t like it when his dad contacts him. He loves it. He just wishes it could happen more often. And he wishes he wasn’t so sure that his father’s next text will reveal an ulterior motive. He really wishes that his dad cared enough to text with the simple motive of wanting to talk to his kid.

There’s a deep twisting in Derek’s gut and he knows exactly how to stop it. Damn that Caitlin Farmer for making this harder than it needs to be.

Derek touches a hand to his stomach. He feels around for the part that holds the twisting feeling and pushes. He starts with a light touch, but soon enough that ceases to help and he starts pushing harder, adding more and more force until there’s no more give to it. He pulls up his shirt and lightly traces his fingertips over the skin of his stomach before turning the touch cruel, digging his nails into his soft skin with punishing force. It’s not alcohol, but it has a similar effect, numbing his body and brain until nothing hurts anymore.

Derek continues until he barely remembers why he started in the first place. He’s floating in a haze of pain and comfort, and giddily he begins to think that he’s won. Caitlin is wrong, Derek’s alcohol use isn’t the problem. It’s the thing saving him from much worse coping mechanisms. As he drifts off into a peaceful sleep, Derek is sure of exactly one thing: he is in the right.

—–

It’s been a month since Derek has had any drugs or alcohol. A full month. So when he finds out about the kegster, he figures he’s within his rights to go and get absolutely smashed.

It’s four hours later and he’s not regretting his decision at all. He’s been taking whatever people offer him, getting more comfortable with every sip and giddier with every pill. He’s in his element like this, when he can feel the beat of the music in his chest and the alcohol has quieted the usual buzzing of his anxious mind. He’s free and safe and so damn happy.

Derek is still free and happy when he falls out of Bitty’s window.

When Derek wakes up in the hospital two hours later, it’s with enough questions in his mind to make Tango jealous. The most important question, however, has to come first. Is he okay?

The answer to that is a resounding “kind of”. Derek wound up with a sprained ankle and a bruised rib. Nothing permanent, but bad enough that he won’t be able to play for at least a month. Fucking hell.

It sucks that he’s hurt. It really does. But Derek is thinking more about the space in between dancing and falling out of a fucking window. It feels bigger than just a little drunk mistake, probably because it’s not his first drunk mistake. It’s certainly not the first time he’s woken up somewhere he doesn’t remember falling asleep.

Derek traces his fingers over his ribs, but stops just short of pushing. He thinks about what Caitlin said as his fingers dance over the bruises. “I have a problem,” he whispers. Fuck, he needs a drink.

Derek almost laughs. This is a serious thing he’s thinking about, but he can’t help but find the irony kind of hilarious. He lifts his fingers from his skin and picks up his phone. He opens Safari, turns on incognito mode, and looks up Samwell AA meetings. There’s one on Tuesday in a church near the school.

Maybe Derek will swing by.

—–

Author’s Note: Farmer’s approach is not perfect. She’s a college kid with limited knowledge of alcoholism who knows her friend has a problem and wants to help. That being said, being able to go x period of time without drinking does not guarantee that alcoholism isn’t present. Nursey can go periods of time without alcohol, but it’s his inability to control his consumption once he does start drinking that’s the real problem for him. (Make alcoholic Derek Nurse explicit canon 2k17)