#miscarriage au

[the-kr8tor]

Sink or Swim

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Total Word Count: 16k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mentions, CW suggestive, TW blood, CW injury, CW miscarriage mention, TW violence.

A/N: I've divided this chapter into two because of how long it is and tumblr wouldn't let me draft the post without the app crashing. So sorry for the inconvenience. I'll put the link at the end and on top.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 13 >>> CHAPTER 13 II

Hobie's throat feels like he swallowed glass. Yet, he screams until his lungs give out, until his body gives out. Fist pounding into steel, skin splitting, blood staining the metal, he continues to call for you. His ears could only hear your frantic yells, his name falling out of your lips, vomited out desperately, asking for him, calling for him to get you out.

He kicks and thrashes at the metal bars, his mind imagines the worst— nails ripped from your fingers, bones breaking, skin scraped and slashed. He doesn't need to imagine how it could feel for he had lived through it all, survived through sheer will alone. But he promised, he promised to you and in that hollow grave that it will never be filled with your body; that your own blood wouldn't spill in between his fingers.

Yet, like the knife that he is, like the one who breaks skin and bleeds everything he touches— he hurt you, shot you where you stood, when he should've protected you, shielded you from the bullet. But how could he do it when the bullet is from him? When he used the same weapon that has ended dozens of lives to protect his crew, to harm you; the only person he deems worthy of telling all his secrets, you, who is worth more than every single treasure in the world.

Maybe he should've listened to you and stayed on the island.

Hobie calls for you once again, in hopes that you hear him too, in hopes that his voice is enough to bring you hope. The lighthouse that guides you home. But he knows, he knows all you could hear are muffled sounds and the creaking from the rocking ship.

Your voice wavers, like you've been forcefully silenced. So he does the screaming for you. It's loud, tone furious, ready to scratch at anyone who gets closer.

“Hobie—” Gwen tries to get his attention as the door opens, revealing the two guards staying in the doorway, keeping their distance.

Guns are strapped to them, knives glinting in the lamp light, armed to the teeth. Hobie knows it's all for him.

“Shut the fuck up.” One frustratingly said, teeth clenched, hands kneading at his temples.

“Keep screaming and you won't get supper.” The bigger one utters, the large scar on his cheek tightens as Hobie taunts them with a grim smile. The smile he reserves to strike fear.

They stiffen in the doorway, shoulders straight, hands reaching for their weapons.

“Do it then.” Hobie says, voice guttural, hands gripping the bars. “End the screaming.” His sheer tone alone sends everyone's hair to stand upright.

No one in the crew dares to stop Hobie. He doesn't know if they're afraid just like the men in front of him or if they're biding their time to scratch and bite too.

“Come closer and end it.” He doesn't yell, and that terrifies the men in the doorway. “And you'll find out exactly what I did to Admiral Kinney all those years ago.” He can still taste the admiral's ichor on his tongue.

The hulking men share a look, sweat dripping off their brows. And with that, they shut the door behind them, returning to their post with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Cowards.”

If it wasn't a grim situation, James would've laughed.

Hobie hears Gwen sigh behind him, the liquid in her hand sloshes as she practically shoves it in his face.

“At least drink some water. For your throat.”

“No, ‘m not drinking that slop.”

Gwen has had enough, she takes him by the collar, eyes bravely glaring at her captain. “If you want to leave this ship and save her, then drink the slop, eat the fucking bread and keep your goddamn energy for when we get the window to escape. Screaming won't help, captain. It's not helping anyone.” Her jaw is set, eyebrows knitted together.

The rest of the crew stand on the side, ready to get between them if it gets physical. He'll never hurt Gwen, never even thought of it. But he can't stand the thought of his family standing against him rather than next to him. So he fixes it, you'd like it that way.

Hobie gingerly takes the cup, chugging it down in one gulp.

“Good, now eat some bread and sit down.”

“Y/N—” he starts.

“She'll be alright, she's a fighter ain't she?” He nods, “you know her better than us, so tell us, cap'n, that she will survive this.”

He roams his red eyes at his sparse crew. For a brief second he sees the ones he lost behind them. For the first time, he's glad he doesn't see you with them.

Returning his attention towards Gwen, he utters the words with the confidence of a captain.

“She'll survive this.”

—

Sitting down in the corner, he rests his poor throat, the dry bread didn't help much. It was shitty to say the least, times like this, he misses Finn. He'd beat him if he ever knew that he let the famous bloodsail pirates into the hands of a former admiral and you into the hands of someone you fear the most.

Hobie shuts his eyes for a second, he swears it's only for a second but when he wakes up with a start and the door opening with a creak, the moon is already shining outside the large boat.

When he sees you appear by the doorway, he thinks he's still dreaming.

“Ten,” He hears you say between gritted teeth. All he could focus on is you, checking for signs of an injury, he starts from your head—nothing, arms, also nothing, save for a few scratches. Then he settles on your bandaged leg, and he remembers what he did, what he did to you. Guilt and grief overtakes his body, he tries his best to hide into the background, into the wooden walls, to become part of the ship, to hide his shame. Because he hurt you, and he'll never forgive himself for what he did.

Hobie watches from his corner, defeated when you tell him subtly that you're alright. And when you called for him, called his name softly like summer wind breezing by, warm and reminding him of home— he couldn't help but oblige.

Who is he to deny the sky?

When you held him in your hands, he felt anew. Apologies spill from his mouth, eyes forlorn at the red spot on your bandages.

What is the tides without his moon?

He feels lighter when you forgive him. But his past action still haunts him, he knows it'll join the long line of nightmares that plague him at night.

“That's my girl.” He says truthfully and proudly, he feels your heartbeat hasten through your pulse.

You tell him your choice, your decision to give up your freedom for him and the crew. He feels like he was back on the revenge, facing Mathias, refusing to let you go as you offer yourself for their freedom.

His heart beats harder as you ask him to read your mother's letter. He's unsure why you would let someone like him read something as heavy as the letter. It's reserved for someone whose hands wouldn't stain the paper with crimson.

“Because I trust you.” You say, and everything aligns in his mind. Like Poseidon shaking him inside out, like the tides itself is splitting him open.

Hobie reads it with trembling hands and broken skin. Like he thought, it turns the paper pink like ink blots dirtying the pristine paper.

He dictates it, heart shattering at every tear you let out. Wiping your cheeks dry, he's careful not to let his split skin touch your softer ones.

“It's real, innit?” He asks like the earth isn't eating him whole.

“It's real.” You answer and the world caves in around him.

Hobie teases to feel the resemblance of normalcy, “little tomato?” He asks.

And you answer with a “I don't want them, just you.” Like you didn't just mend his shattering heart with one sentence. And you break it right after with a “We'll meet again, in this life or the next.”

He's terrified once again. He shakes his head as the door creaks open. “No, Y/N—”

As you kiss his wounded knuckles gently, you ask him something he can't possibly do.

“Don't follow me, please.”

Reaching for you, he should've read the last line in the letter to you. ‘Don't trust anyone’ it said, whatever it was, it's not your burden to carry, so he'll do it for you.

Hobie apologizes in his head for keeping it away from you and for what he's about to do.

—

With the dinner bell ringing, and heavy footsteps retreating, the crew takes their chance. The key opens the door smoothly. They sneak around the ship, only leaving shadows and footfalls that's barely audible.

Climbing up the steps towards freedom, Hobie spots a door at the end of a hallway. Like two hearts beating as one, he knows it's you behind it.

Miles takes his arm before he could come to you. “Don't.” He whispers to his captain. “Don't waste her sacrifice.”

“She didn't sacrifice herself.” Hobie shakes his head, scoffing quietly. “I can't leave her behind, Miles. I can't.”

“I know,” he pulls him away from the hallway. “she asked you to not follow, so don't follow.”

“If this was Gwen—”

“If this was Gwen we'd be doing the exact same thing. She wouldn't ask us to follow and we'll leave because she asked us to.” Miles spares a heavy glance towards your locked door. “I know it hurts, but we'd be in the gallows by morning if we don't leave now. We'll have another chance at saving her.”

“You don't know that.”

“I don't, but it's better to not know instead of being dead. At least we'd have a chance.” Miles tugs him further away. “Do you think it's better for her to think that she caused our deaths just because you took the chance?” His voice is determined.

“Don't hurt her like that, Hobie. It'll ruin her.”

With one last look towards your door, Hobie nods, following the others to the deck then to safety. As the dinghy drops down into the sea, and into the dark night, he hears Miguel curse his name.

He asks for your forgiveness silently.

—

Hobie and the crew finally make it to the docks without being seen by anyone. It was pure luck that no one saw or even heard them, he thanked the early morning and the still dark sky for lending them a hand.

“We need to wait for her.” He says, stretching his stiff hands from rowing the boat.

The sparse pirate crew hides in the shadows, hidden behind the dark alleyway. They lean on the grimy walls, hands cradling their fatigued heads, huffing and groaning at the aches and pains they had from their daring escape. They can still hear Miguel cursing Hobie's name, his voice ringing in their ears.

“Hobie,” Gwen calls for him. “Leave her be.”

“What the fuck?” Hobie turns sharply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we leave her alone.” Pavitr says forlornly, eyes downcast at the dirty pavement.

“We promised her—”

“That was when we didn't know it was her actual family. Back when we all thought Miguel was a threat to her.” Yuri pipes up, hands braced on her knees. Fatigued and clearly needing rest. “I love her, Hobie, I really do. We all love her, but she's with family now. Let her be.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Miles scoffs, “We're talking about the same person right?” He stands next to Hobie, arms crossed on his chest.

“C’mon, Miles,” Gwen says tiredly. “We all heard their conversation, it's real, she's noble—”

“And what of it?” Hobie snaps back. “You were too.”

“I was.” She scowls. “But she has a home to go to, a family that's waiting for her. We need to let her be until for whatever reason she decides to stay or leave with us.” Inhaling sharply, she rubs harshly at her eyes. “Let's make a compromise then. We're all clearly feeling conflicted. I don't want to fully let her go, we all agree right?”

Everyone nods, tension running high, glares thrown about the small group. Gwen continues, “Then we stay close to her, we watch her like when we used to observe potential crew members. But this time we make sure she is actually safe and not thrown to the wolves.” Her idea reminds Hobie why he chose her as his first mate.

“I'll keep first watch,” Hobie quickly says, "we switch after I say so.”

“And when will that be, Hobie?” Yuri clasps her hand on Hobie's shoulder, comforting the man. “You haven't slept a wink, add the fact that you were stranded on a bloody island for a month, you're not in the right state for this.”

“I'll be once I see that she's safe.” His voice cracks, “I didn't keep an eye on MJ and look what happened. I-I don't want that to happen again. Please let me do it. You can follow me all you want just let me keep watch—”

“It's Y/N,” James whisper yells, he peeks around the alley, watching you slowly walk down the ship.

They all clammer to see you ignore Miguel's helping hand. Pride swells in their chest, they remember now why they can't exactly leave you behind— you're family.

As if fate is pulling the strings, you crane your neck to look in their direction. The crew ducks away, but Hobie stays, staring at you, waiting for your signal, anything to indicate that you want to run away with them.

He sees your subtle shake of your head, and with that, he hides with his crew.

“Did she say something?” Pav asks, concerned for you.

“No, nothin’” He holds his heart in his hand. “She said nothin'”

—

Hobie follows you quietly throughout the day. Hiding from Miguel's watchful eyes and your sad eyes. The crew left to rest in an inn, Miles offered to come with him, Hobie's glad he did for he found an unhitched horse in a street corner. But it could only seat one so Miles, the angel that he is, let Hobie go on without him.

“I'll take care of them.” He promises before he lets his captain go.

They all know your house, they've raided their ships before. Crates upon crates full of luxury, with the same design on your necklace stamped on the wooden sides. Hobie knows them quite well, the favourite of the king, always giving them special treatment. Yet the queen holds them at an arm's length away, but she never left her eyes away from their business. He guessed sacking random ships has its perks, gossip is one of them.

Hobie silently trots his horse, eyes never leaving the carriage you just left. The cemetery sends his nerves alight, with the crows cawing in the background, he strains his ear to listen in. He's hiding behind the chapel, the irony doesn't escape him.

The truth is revealed to you, and unbeknownst to you, he has learned about it too. His head is in his hands as he listens to how broken your voice is, tone splitting at the seams. Then his heart stops when you tell your mother that you want to stay, that you want to find the person responsible for their deaths, that the same flames burning inside him now have spread to you.

Hobie doesn't want you to go down the same path he walked on, to let the embers singe your skin, to let the fire burn you from the inside out like it had with him. You helped him through his, helped him control it. Now it's his turn to do so for you.

He cares for you, loves you for all your soft touches and gentle tone. But he's prepared to love you through your jagged edges, through all the anger that's inside you. He'd love both sides of you, because it's you, and no one else.

His foot accidentally steps on a twig as he sees you leave. Hobie almost ran towards you when you looked at the source of the sound. This time he ducks away, knowing that there's eyes on you, eyes that are prepared to take you away the moment they see him. So he waits, until there's no more eyes on you.

The next time he saw you again was when you stepped out of the carriage and into the golden doors of the palace. He's terrified for what's to come, whether or not Miguel has brought you on a silver platter for the wolves to devour.

With his guns accompanying him, he readies outside the walls of the palace until you leave, until he sees you again climbing inside the carriage.

He can finally breathe again, he doesn't have to kill this time. Not yet anyway.

Hobie tries his best to stay hidden, he bribes and lies to get inside Hazelside. Then he waits, and bides his time just to talk to you.

—

“Hazelside estate,” Miguel says when the large manor looms over the horizon. “Your family has owned it for two hundred years. Passed down to every first born child of the family.”

Acres and acres of land stretch across the vast space. Primed apple trees and oaks line the road, men and women in work clothes walk near the carriage, not even craning their necks to take a peek inside. It seems this was a daily occurrence for them.

“Two hundred years.” You repeat, contemplating how many generations owned it. “So it's mine once the papers are signed? Where would my…uncle and aunt go then?” Your mind goes through a hundred scenarios where you stay and where you decide to leave it all again.

“They have their own house. Granted it's not as big as Hazelside but it's enough for them. Knowing his majesty, he'd take his sweet time from releasing the papers.”

“How well do you know the king and queen?” You ask, eyes scanning your family's land.

Stone houses are standing miles away from the main estate, employees of the house you think. Chimneys billow out smoke whilst the sun is just about to rise. You imagine them having breakfast with their families, sleep still clinging in their lashes, hot tea wrapped in their cool hands. Opening the window, the smell of fresh apples wafts over you. Home, you think. It smells like home. Or it just reminds you of the apple tarts Jessica made for you when you were younger.

“You alright?” Miguel asks, watching you frown.

“I'm fine, just tired.” You lied, in truth, you miss them all.

“You had a hectic day, I don't blame you. You'll get to rest soon, I promise.”

How could you even think of sleeping alone? After being near him? After saying goodbye?

“You didn't answer my question.” You shift your attention from the trees to the man before you. “How well do you know them?”

“I barely know the queen, but the king? Yes, short answer? He's a moron, a buffoon wearing a crown.”

Lyla snickers next to you, head plopped on the carriage wall, seemingly asleep.

You smile, “You have a monkey for a king.”

“Once you're the Hazelside duchess, he'll be your king too.”

“Christ.” You chuckle nervously.

“Don't worry, I'll help you get accustomed to polite society.” Miguel reassures you and you still have no idea if you'll stay long enough to bear the title.

“Polite society.” You say with a scoff, “What I just saw wasn't very polite.”

“Just remember, everything here is political. Everyone here is climbing the ladder, kissing the royal asses. Some are doing it for their families, some are doing it for their personal gain.”

“Which one do you think I am?”

“Neither.” The carriage stops, horses neighing, hooves stomping on the gravel. “You're not like them, Y/N, that's why you'll end up walking all over them.”

The footman opens the door, Miguel gives you a look before coming down the small steps. He reaches towards you, helping you down. You hesitate. You still don't take his hand even with your bad leg.

The wind blows cold, goosebumps appearing on your skin, face worried at the sheer size of the manor. The glinting silvered birds catch the early morning's sun's rays. Beady eyes seemingly blinking when a cloud passes by.

Vines cling to the ancient walls, small purple flowers run along the plant and along the large windows. Strong columns line the façade, laurels carved on the marble, oak doors displaying the house sigil— your necklace bearing a similarity to it. Flower beds cradling violets lay by the foot of the building, blooming and fragrant. The smell hiding your trepidation from the dozen or so people watching you with unreadable eyes.

The staff greets you with a stiff nod, they stand on the stairs leading towards the manor. Their uniforms are perfect, perfectly ironed and clean; perfect white gloves on their hands.

A couple of them help your drunk uncle off their own carriage. He groans, head swirling, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Fancy clothes sweaty and moist, neckerchief lopsided and dirtied by ale. In contrast to his wife, who looks tired with the heavy eye bags under her eyes, she still looks like a proper noble compared to Frederick.

“Freddy—” She groans, kicking her husband's leg, “get up!”

“Darling…” he slurs, “there's two of you—oh wait…now there's three!” His guffaw fills the quiet morning.

Victoria gives up, leaving the man to the care of her staff. She walks off, huffing and puffing. She gives you a glance, “what are you waiting for? Get inside.”

Her eyes flick to Miguel who stands behind you, she immediately clamps down her bitterness. “Welcome to Hazelside, niece.” With a stomp of her heeled foot, she heads inside, no doubt seething.

“Catty.” Lyla says next to you, elbowing your side. “C’mon, your grace, before the sun gets in their eyes and sends them into a murderous frenzy.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. Something flickers in your peripheral vision, when you move your head to look, whatever it was, it's already gone behind the thick bushes.

“Y/N?” Miguel beckons you over. “It's cold out, come inside before you get sick.”

“Coming,” you call back, eyes darting around the thicket.

—

Miguel shows you around to your room in the west wing. Various historical paintings decorate the walls, wooden simple frames around them, showing the true beauty of the art without all the extravagant gold laurels around it.

Sculpted busts of your ancestors wait at every corner, marble eyes staring blankly at what's in front of them. Large windows line the walls, just outside the glass lies an expansive field of apple trees, bulbs of reds and greens adorning the branches of the mighty orchard. You stand in awe at the sight, workers start flocking the trees, picking and plucking at the ripest of fruits. The sun shines directly at the field, apples aglow with its light like red and green stars.

You lag behind Miguel as you gawp at the scenery, hand tucked inside the pocket of your gown, mindlessly rolling the pearl. Wishing the crew could see it too, wishing that he could see it and harvest the fruits with you.

Miguel calls for you, hand reaching but he retracts it back to his side. “Apples are new around here.” You genuinely smile at him, so he continues. “It used to just be hazelnuts, which still grow plenty in the estate.”

“Why the change then?”

“They didn't change, your family merely adapted. Your grandmother was the one who started planting the apple trees. Whenever she had a—” Miguel falters, you can practically see his brain turning.

“Had a what? I'm a big girl, Miguel, I can handle whatever it is.” You encourage him with a nod.

“A miscarriage,” he says lowly, “At the end of her life she planted seven trees. There was only one seed she didn't plant and that was when your mother was born.”

Your heart aches at the story even though the people in it are practically strangers to you. “Apple of her eye.” You murmur.

Miguel chuckles, turning to watch the vast orchard that spans acres upon acres of land. “It’s an understatement. She was spoiled, your mother. But she had a heart, most of her gifts almost always ‘gets lost’ somewhere.” He smiles fondly. “Strangely enough, it always ends up with someone who would benefit from it more.”

“Which one ended up getting lost in your backyard?” You smile at his rare grin.

“A lot, pocket watches, jeweled eggs, there was a kitten once. Only because her mother didn't like it.” He sighs, hazel eyes shining under the sunlight.

“You loved her.”

“I did,” he stares at you with kinder eyes. “She was my best friend, and so was your father. They both were.”

“What did you mean back at the carriage when you told me that they did the same to you?”

He swallows thickly, staring back at the outside of the opulent manor. “My daughter, Gabriella.” he says after a moment, “She was only a few years older than you. Your parents were her godparents, this was before they eloped and had you.” You can feel the strain in his voice. “She got sick…they poured everything into giving her the best doctors the country has to offer. They were at her side while I was drowning my sorrows in the navy. When they weren't by her side, they were with me. But in the end everything was all in vain.”

“I'm sorry,” you say genuinely, “I'm sorry, Miguel.”

He gives you a tight smile and a pat on your shoulder. “Even after all that they were still by my side, even when I pushed them away.” Sniffing, he subtly wipes his eye. “I didn't cross the sea and traveled thousands of miles to find you because I want us to be even. Or to pay the debt, I just wanted to find the last thing they left in hopes that I also find them in you.” His chest heaves. “I couldn't even say goodbye to them.”

There's tears in your eyes as he chokes on his own words. “I lost my friends but you lost your family before you could even meet them. And for that, I'm sorry, Y/N.” His hand shakes. “They didn't deserve what happened to them.”

“Tell me what happened to them.” You stand toe to toe with him, determined to get answers.

“Pirates, I told you they were pirates.”

You shake your head. “Do you really believe that, O’Hara? Or are you still trying to convince yourself otherwise?”

His jaw clenches, “It was pirates, Y/N.”

“Tell that to the former navy medic I call mother.”

He whispers, “the last time I looked further into their deaths I lost my Job, stripped of all my titles. I almost lost my house because of it.”

“Then tell me what you found.” You challenge him back. “Tell me who ordered it so I can live in this house in peace.”

“I don't have definitive proof—”

“Who?”

“Edward.” He says through gritted teeth. “He wanted to marry your mother, even going as far to ask for her hand. But when she refused him for your father—” he heaves. “I think he has probable cause to order the attack.”

“You were answering the man who might've killed my parents and wanted me dead?”

“How do you think that makes me feel, hm? I had my full trust in the navy, trusting the report they gave, trusted them with my whole life, even dedicating my life to them. And the moment I get a whiff of a planned murder on the only family I've ever had they bar me from the only life I've ever known. How do you think that made me feel?”

“I'm sorry you went through that but you could've done something.”

“He is king!” Miguel's voice booms around the hallway. He shifts his voice, pinching his knitted brows. “His word is law, I couldn't have done anything, even if I had proof.”

“You should've started with that instead of telling me lies, then I would've come to you without a fight.”

“There would've still been a fight.” He states matter of factly. “Hobie was ready to fight the moment I stepped below deck.”

“Could you blame him though? We both know not every single pirate crew is as nice as them, he didn't attack because you claimed it was pirates. Or that he was offended, he knows that he has done unsavoury things too. So what did you say that made him lunge at you?”

Miguel shakes his head, refusing to say anything. “It's best that you don't remember it.”

“Fine, be like that, just know that there will always be a wall between us.” Your heels clack loudly against the oak floors as you leave him behind.

—

The room they gave you was surprisingly comfortable, unlike the apartments in the palace that you explored. It's ten times bigger than the inn you were in, complete with your own bathroom and sitting room. It's all wooden walls covered in beautiful tapestries of various scenes from history— the thick cloth helps keep the heat inside. All the windows are wide open to let the cool air in and the moonlight. So you could hear the rustling of the trees outside, so you could smell the crisp apples. It helps, you think as you sit in front of the large stone fireplace with birds engraved in every corner of the stone.

You're already sick of the bloody birds.

You wrap the fur blanket closer to your body, still in your gown, refusing to wear anything else they've provided for you. You've heard of poisoned dresses before, it's far-fetched but you can't risk it now that you're in a more unfamiliar territory where your own family holds a grudge against you just for existing.

Especially now that you're alone in a large room filled with strange things. And with only his dagger to keep you safe.

Anyone would kill to be in your shoes right now, to be pampered and placed in a household that can provide for all your needs. If it weren't for the hunger in you, you would've left all of the gold in this house just to get back to them. Instead, the fire has you in its hold too.

Miguel's information only fueled the glowing embers in you, you're determined to find who killed them. But you're still restrained in this large manor, and until you can get your answers, you say their names to satiate the hunger.

“Edward and Mathias.” You say through shuddered breath, feeling if you could just say it louder, the sky would strike them down where they stood.

The pearl in your hands is warm, the shiny surface reflecting your scowl.

The flames mesmerize you as it dances in the kindling. Orange and reds illuminate your face, it's the only light in the whole room. You exhale and a puff of clouds escape your cool lips.

It's getting colder, and you're missing him.

Just when you're about to stand up to close the windows, a pebble lands near you. It thuds on the wooden floors, the sound gets your attention.

“What the hell?” You say confused. Standing back up, another flies through the open windows and into your room. “Who the fuck?” Speed walking towards the window, you almost get hit by a pebble if you didn't dodge it in time. “Hey!”

Fifteen feet below your window, you see two people dressed in their night clothes, bundled up in fur coats. They look up at you with wide eyes, like they got caught with their hands inside the cookie jar.

“Cousin!” One exclaims, a wide apologetic smile on his lips, showing you his perfect teeth. “Sorry about that! Can you come down?”

“Who in the world are you?” You ask, confused, you lean down to take a better look, hands gripping the sill for support.

“We're your cousins! I guess?” The girl next to him says, eyes shining in the moonlight, hand holding another pebble. “We waited to see you during supper and around the house but you were apparently hiding!”

“Alright, why do I need to come down then?”

“Because we want to properly introduce ourselves! Without screaming at you from below that is.” The girl shrugs, smiling prettily at you. “Please, cousin?”

“...fine.” you grumble, the dagger is still hidden underneath your skirt in case they're planning something nefarious.

They beam up at you, the girl daintily claps her hands. “Brilliant! We'll be waiting at the entrance.”

As you trudge down the unfamiliar sprawling halls, trying your hardest to not get lost in the maze-like structure. You accidentally encounter another painting of your mother.

Her name is etched on a golden plaque just below the portrait. This one was different from the one in the palace, she was stiff there, lips tightly closed into a line, eyes cold and empty. The one in front of you is warm, a soft smile on her lips, eyes shining and alive. Her dress is in lilac, golden stars adorning the bodice. She still wore the same necklace you're currently wearing, it rests perfectly on her neck. In her hand is a closed locket, you wonder whose portrait lies inside.

“Hi, mum.” You whisper into the cold hallway. “Where's dad's portrait?” You ask like she would open her mouth and answer back. With a sigh, you head downstairs.

Walking the ancient floors, the moon shines down at you, the light peeking in from the gaps of the heavy curtains. Silently, you meet with your cousins in the foyer. Carefully coming down the curved staircase, hand gripping the bannister, the boy who is about the same age as Miles meets you halfway. He reaches towards you, giving you a hand.

“I heard about your leg, I thought you'd appreciate some help.”

“You're Frederick's children?” You say, questioning whether or not you should take his hand.

“We are,” he says with a sigh. “Come on, cousin, or you might miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“The birds.” The girl waiting in the foyer excitedly says. “They're migrating.”

“Oh, I don't see why that would be so interesting.” You say as the boy flexes his fingers, beckoning you down.

“You’ll see why. Take my hand please, you look like our grandmother going down the steps.”

“Fine,” with an exhale, you take his hand. You hold his hand, a feather light touch that he barely feels, giving yourself enough time to react if he decides to do something.

“I'm Jonathan, or just John.” He says as he gently leads you down the steps. His stride is slow, waiting for your own feet to keep up. “And this is my sister—”

“Collette!” She suddenly clasps your hands when you reach the last step. “Sorry–” her tone is sweet and genuine, quickly removing her hands from yours. “I got too excited! I'm Collette, my brother and I are twins.”

“Unfortunately…” John says under his breath.

Collette jabs her elbow by his side, earning a groan from him. You see the similarities on their faces now that you're closer to them. From the slope of their noses to the curls of their hair, they look very much alike. Except for their eyes, Collette has emerald eyes that shimmer from the oil lamp she carries. While her brother has brilliant blue eyes that remind you of the sea when the sun shines above it.

You get reminded of him again.

“Who's older?” You ask teasingly, pushing the previous thought away.

“I am!” They both speak at the same time. John looks at her sister with disappointment, while Collette scrunches her nose.

“I'm five minutes older than you, Jojo.” She says with a tone you could only describe as annoyed.

“Father told me I'm the one who's five minutes older. Not you!”

“Sure,” she nods sarcastically, the lamp in her hand sways. “Because father was in the room when we were born.” Her head swivels to look at you, and you almost jump at how fast she moved. “He wasn't in the room.”

“Ah, I think I got it—”

“Like you could bloody remember.” John says with a scoff.

Before the argument could go on, you stop them with your hands on each of their shoulders.

“I need to sleep, so whatever you want to show me, just fucking show me.”

Collette stares at you with a gasp, eyes wide like you just said the darndest thing. Meanwhile, John has the biggest grin you've ever seen.

“Wow, cousin.” He says, amused. “I heard you used to run with pirates but I didn't know you got their vocabulary too. Hazelside would be more interesting now that you're here.”

“Gosh,” Collette exhales, clutching her pearls (literally) “I didn't know that word could be uttered by a woman.”

“You should try it sometimes. It's very freeing.” You chuckle at their reaction whilst you make your way outside. “Before we freeze to death, cousins?”

“The oldest should lead the way.” John takes the opportunity to rag on his still bewildered sister.

She groans audibly. “You're not the one with the lamp.”

You smile, there's a warm familiar feeling in your chest.

—

Leaves crunch under your bare foot, you've got blisters from the uncomfortable heels Miguel gave you. You'd take walking on bare feet rather than wear that torture device ever again. The only plus side of the fancy shoe is that it makes you feel powerful with every click of the heels. Walking along a path, tall apple trees carve a way for you and the twins.

“I like your dress.” Collette says right next to you, you sense her wariness by how she keeps her distance. “The color is beautiful, it's our house color.”

“Thank you, but I've been told that red suits me better.”

“Oh, I think they're right actually.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah, I'm slowly getting used to this one though.” You lift up your skirt a bit for emphasis.

“Is it true that you were shot?” John asks in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “We heard from the footmen that you were shot by a pirate when O’Hara rescued you.”

“I was, but that's not the whole story. Miguel didn't rescue me.”

“Really?” Collette's brows are raised in question and surprise. You nod at her question. “Huh, I told you we shouldn't listen to gossip.” She slaps her brother on his bicep, he winces, glaring at her. “It's bad to begin with.”

“That's the thing about gossip, Co, it's not always the truth.” He spits out.

“I knew that, pssh.” She crosses her arms on her chest, annoyed and embarrassed.

“Why are we out here again? If you're planning to ambush me—” Colette gasps loudly, like you've shot her.

“Ambush you? Do we look like we know how to fight?” She stops you from going further down the path just as you see a dark river at the end of it.

John knits his brows with a pout. “We're here to give you a warm welcome, cousin. We heard mother and father didn't even give you a tour, so I guess it falls on us to show you around.”

“At night though?” You gesture around the silence of the grounds, save for a few crickets chirping and the flowing of the lake, you're practically alone in the dark.

“Guess we're just living to our house motto, ‘carpe noctem—’”

“‘Seize the night’” Collette finishes her brother's sentence. “The ancestor who established our house was a gambler.” She shrugs.

“That's our house motto?”

“Nope!” Collette answers you. “It was our house motto.” She gestures to herself and her brother. “Before the crown granted us Hazelside, after—” John elbows her. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, what's the actual motto?”

“‘alis volat propriis—’”

“‘She flies with her own wings.’” You translate, the siblings look at you with awe. “There's latin in medicine.”

“You know medicine?!” Collette shrieks, the sound echoing through the dark.

“Brilliant.” John murmurs.

“Oh you must tell us more!” Collette loops her arm around yours, walking side by side. “How and where did you learn it?”

“I—”

“Don't pester her, Co.” John clicks his tongue, “have you cut anyone's arm off?”

“How grim!” She exclaims.

As they lead you towards the sparkling lake, you three chat through the night by the banks of the hazelside lake. They ask about the world outside the capital, they ask about the sea and the pirates you were with. You don't tell them about all the blood and violence, deciding that you shouldn't mar their innocent hearts with stories of death. It's not yours to tell, and you don't want to traumatize the only people who don't look at you with contempt.

“So you're not mad at me or even at least a bit annoyed for showing up and taking the estate from your parents?” You ask whilst the sun slowly rises, bathing the lake in bright blue. The hazelnuts in your mouth is a welcome one since you haven't eaten a single bite since you got to the capital.

“Not really.” John munches on his own pile of hazelnuts. He lounges near the water, hand cradling his head, chewing quietly. “We were surprised at first because there have been a handful of girls who claimed to be you. Who were obviously not you.” You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “But when they told us it was Miguel who found you, we were sure it was really you.”

“Wait— there were people who claimed to be me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Collette hums, sitting close to you, hanging on to every word you utter. “They weren't very convincing.”

“The story of Miguel trying to find you was pretty famous around here. I mean, the guy abandoned his post to find a missing duchess who may or may not be alive. That was a big story back then, so a lot of women threw their daughters and young relatives at the manor's gates to get a chance.” John informs you.

“We were quite young back then, but the fakes dwindled away through the years.” Collette finishes his statement.

“‘Quite young’ she says,” he scoffs, “we were barely out of the womb, Collette.” His sister sticks out her tongue at John.

“Huh, that's probably why I haven't heard of it either, I was still young.” You wonder.

“The sun's almost out!” Collette points at the clear sky. “Get ready, cousin, because you're about to see the most gorgeous thing.”

“The birds here migrate at this time of year,” John helps you both up to your feet. You surprisingly take his hand. “like clockwork. Collette and I used to watch it with our parents before they got all…well, too much. Now it's some sort of tradition for us.”

“Look look! The trees are rustling!” She points, jumping up and down.

“Any minute now.” John smiles at his sister as she half hugs him.

The three of you wait for a sign of the birds, a minute passes, then two, then five. Yet, not even a feather flies overhead. The early morning sun shines brighter with every minute that passes. And with every minute, the twins grew agitated.

“Why aren't they coming out?” Collette asks sadly.

“I'm sure they're just getting ready for the journey.” John reassures his sister with a pat on her shoulder. “My calculations are correct, why aren't they here yet?” He questions no one.

Their slumped shoulders and frowns get to you. An idea pops in your head, and you think it's all Hobie's fault.

“Maybe they're still sleeping.” They look at you simultaneously, “I mean it's really cold out, they probably wanted to stay in bed— or nest to sleep more. I know I would want to.”

“Oh,” Collette gives you a small smile at your attempt to make them feel better. “That's probably it. Thank you, cousin.”

You grin mischievously at them, “what if we wake them all up?”

John makes a face. “How?”

You inhale, putting your hands around your mouth, you scream, “wake the fuck up!” The sound echoed throughout the field and across the lake.

Your cousins let out a loud guffaw, you giggle at their reaction. John joins in, copying your actions.

“Wake up you wankers!” He yells, exhilaration filling his chest. “I've always wanted to say that.” Chuckling, he laughs louder at the face his sister is making.

“Johnathan!” His sister gasps next to him.

“What? Try it out! Come on then! No one's out here to tell us off.” John shakes her shoulder, giving you a wide grin.

“Join us in the dark side, Collette.” You sing song, “the birds need a wake up call.”

“You won't tell mother and father?” She asks the both of you. Wiggling, she’s excited.

Crossing your heart, you promise. “I won't, I'm not a tattletale.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Co.”

“Alright.” She exhales deeply before letting loud the loudest scream you've ever heard. “Wake up, cocksuckers!” It's so loud that you swear your eardrums are blown out. Smiling, she turns towards your surprised forms.

Now it's you and John's turn to gasp.

“Cocksucker?!” You exclaim, bewildered.

“Where'd you learn that, Co?!” John pokes his sister.

“I heard it when Mrs. Williams stubbed her toe during lessons.” She said shyly.

“Good on you, sis.” He pats her back. “Good on you.”

Collette looks at you expectantly. “Good show, Co.” You wink at her and she giggles happily.

Facing towards the thick trees across the lake, the birds still don't fly overhead. There's nothing but the wind rustling the branches.

“They didn't wake up though.” She says forlornly.

“What if we do it at the same time?” Your words have them smiling again.

“Yes!” They say simultaneously.

“Ready?” They both nod, taking in air before screaming their hearts out.

“Cocksuckers!” The three of you let out simultaneously. The canopy rustles and out comes a hundred or so birds from the thicket.

You all jump up and down, arms up in greeting the birds. Their feathers shine in the sun, light filtering through their wings. Iridescent blues and whites glowing, reflecting in your eyes. Wings flapping loudly, beaks held up high as they greet the sky with open wings.

Amidst the beauty of it all, you wish that he was there to witness it.

A tear slides down your cheek. You wipe it quickly before the twins notice. Head staring up at the sky, amidst all the beauty and light, there's a darkness swirling inside you. Amidst all the life around you, you feel the opposite. And you miss him. The worst part is, you see this place becoming your home.

>>> CHAPTER 13 II

#bdas #between the devil and the sea #between the devil and the sea chap 13 #between the devil and the sea series #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #pirate au #pirate captain! hobie #pirate! hobie #pirate! hobie x reader #hobie x reader #fanfic #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #cw food mention #tw blood #tw violence #cw miscarriage mention #cw injury #hobie fluff

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

So...anyone remember that version of the Rejected Soulmate AU where Danny turns Tim into a Halfa against his will and Tim developed picture powers and trapped Phantom in a painting?

Well I do and I'm about to make it everyone else's problem.

When Danny is finally released from the painting he is not okay. He had been trapped in an attic where pretty much no one went to and then everyone outright avoided for years.

He was essentially stuck in solitary confinement for Ancients know how long. People don't just walk away from that and get to be perfectly sane afterwords. Whats more was that Dannys core was damaged right before being picturefied. Usually the damage sustained would have been nothing more than the equivalent of a skinned knee but being surrounded on all sides by the essence or not only another ghost but another Halfa...well...when two ghosts mix thier essences together they can create a new core.

A baby.

Unfortunately for Phantom both of them were Halfas and Danny had no access to human requirements such as food and water.

Phantoms body couldn't handle the strain of a pregnancy and he had a miscarriage. Worse still, he was constantly surrounded by Tim's essence so he just...kept getting pregnant and kept having miscarriage after miscarriage. When Danny was released he sobbed. It wasn't unusual so hear sobbing or crying from what was dubbed "Dannys room" all around him were the empty cores of the children he had lost, splayed across the floor without a glow and without a life. He looked up at the wall he had been hanging on and saw a distinct discoloration where his portrait used to be. For the love of the Ancients, how long had be been trapped there??

Danny eventually managed to calm down and went over to one of the boxes that hadn't been touched since Alfred stopped coming he tried not to think about that and quietly dumped the contents out onto the floor and used the box to gather up the so many far too many cores.

He would hold a funeral for them all at a later date, but for now he needed to escape the manor.

Sneaking down the stairs he kept his senses sharp. There seemed to be no one in the manor and it appeared to have been that way for quite some time. Alfred would rise from the grave himself if he knew how much dust had accumulated in his absence.

Danny walked past a puddle on the living room floor absently noting the large stain on the ceiling that periodically let a drop splash down into the dampness below. What had happened here? Clearly Tim hadn't died the rest of the way anytime soon after locking Danny up and throwing away the key, so what was up with the manor? How long had Danny been gone? Did they abandon him along with the house? That thought sent his stomach churning.

He knew Tim didn't want him. He had been okay with that so long as he played with him. Most soulmate bonds were platonic and Danny wasn't above pestering someone for attention. Red Robin had almost always seemed annoyed by his presence though and never really gave him a chance even when he seemed to be having fun with whatever "mini game" he had constructed (he made sure to base them off of Reds own hobbies and likes) he had seemed to be holding himself back. Tim never opened up to Danny.

Now Danny was the one trying to avoid Tim as he slipped out one of the manors secret passageways. Thank you old school money and your paranoid aristocrats. He wondered it Bruce even knew of all the secret passageways the Phantom had scoped out in Wayne Manor as he slipped out of a bush behind some old house on another property. Judging on how he had to phase his way out of the hidden door and under the bushes roots he'd go out on a limb and guess no one had used this one in quite a while.

He decided to still stick to the shadows. Even if he had escaped the manor it didn't change the fact that if Tim didn't already know he escaped he would soon enough and would be out looking for him with the rest of the furry patrol.

What about Hood? Did he still hate him? Danny wasn't even sure what went wrong. One day they were friends and then the next he wouldn't even look at him. Did Tim say something? Would he stoop so low? Either way he didn't think Hood would help him. He could feel Hoods Ecto-signature over in the direction of Crime Alley so he couldn't have been trapped for two long, right?

Wrong. So so wrong. According to the date on the electronic billboard he had been trapped for 133 years. Ancients. In other news Tim Drake had been attacked and fallen into a coma not too long ago, which would explain why Danny was free and not being chased. That and his collar that hid his ecto signature. Every day he's thankful for it.

Now would be the best time to leave Gotham. Now while everyone is distracted and Tim can't shove Danny back into his own private Hell.

By the time Tim realizes Danny is missing he will already be long gone.

#rejected soulmate au #braindead rejected soulmate au #rejected soulmate #prompts #fanfiction prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #red robin #yum #tim drake #tw miscarriage #tw pregnancy #miscarriage #tw: unexpected pregnancy #tw: pregnancy #tw: miscarriage #solitary confinement #immortal danny fenton #immortal tim drake #immortal Jason Todd #halfa tim drake #halfa jason todd #tw: angst #angst #ive come for your hearts #and i will bruise them #danny is terrified of tim #like he has legit nightmares of tim finding him and putting him back in that painting

[143htg]

// miscarriage, pregnancy

It's rotting

Always related to the Red thread AU, just so you know a bit about Basil more than him being kinda creepy and yucky and all the negative adjectives you can think off

The horror of maternity always something that I'm very interested in, I want a family in the future, however I don't think it's something that I'm mentally stable enough to, or will ever be, so I just explore it in art

thank you!!!

#omori #omori fanart #omori game #omori basil #omori au #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #omori of red thread au

[chinchillamajor]

Star Simon comic, Part 2/2!

[tw for Simon mpreg AUs, and a referenced miscarriage (not shown).]

When we last left Star Simon, he was having a very strange dream...

And with Dandelion's help, Simon did.

Night after night, he met Simon after Simon, all of them expecting their own Dandelions, after they'd each been surprised as well. These other Dandelions, Star Simon could still help keep safe.

Sometimes, Dandelion was called "Morrigan."

Sometimes, Simon was still waiting to choose a name.

And sometimes, Simon was carrying more than one Dandelion!

Some worlds weren't fun to see.

Some hurt, an awful lot.

But no matter what, Star Simon was there for them all.

Because that's what Simons *do.*

They help out the ones who need help, most.

And when they're really lucky, they learn that every *Simon* is worthy of happiness, too.

Even if that happiness ends up looking a little different than most.

...

No, for serious. Thanks to everyone who read this little comic of mine. This little subset of the Fionna & Cake fandom's helped me so much, these past few weeks.

I've opened up to my therapist about Dandelion (which WAS what I nicknamed them, I swear I'm not making that up!!) after nearly a year of keeping it all to myself, *and* I was able to hold a little funeral for them, to send them along wherever they want to go next, this past Samhain night.

I feel I was finally able to process everything, in a way that worked out as well as it possibly could've. And I never would've acknowledged that little part of my life at all, if it hadn't been for a few people's AU fancomics.

Some stories aren't always the happiest ones out there. But I think those kinds of stories should be told, too.

I remain ever grateful. ✨️

#cw mpreg #cw miscarriage #simon petrikov mpreg #cameo Simons belong to their amazing artists #star simon au

[gemini-forest]

CW: infant death, miscarriage

We know Jayden had a miscarriage and didn't handle it well. But how did Leo handle it?

CW: Grief

Yeah he really didn't handle it well either. He was morning for a while in private. He didn't want Jayden or really anyone to see him cry.

But he cried for a good long while.

#ask gem #Sorry I'm Late AU #sil au #rottmnt Sorry I'm Late au #cw: miscarriage #cw: grief #cw: infant death #cw: death

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pregnant?

What happened when he got pregnant? Did they make him get 'rid' of them?

They didn't make him get rid of them, but often it ended with miscarriages due to abuse. Only two didn't end that way and the creeps let Eclipse keep them, since the babies made Eclipse more willing to listen to them.

#sun and moon show #sams #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #bid to lose au #fnaf eclipse #snoweyanswers #anon #tw miscarriage mention #tw sa mention #tw abortion mention #tw abuse mention

[kiwanopie]

your lord crime kiyoomi is something i didn’t know i needed. thanks for writing him sooooo well, he’s v complicated and i love that. now i can’t stop thinking… what if reader loses the baby? he’s so excited and happy that he’s gonna be a father, do you think he’d blame the reader or resent her a bit?

The word “you” next to the word “resentment” isn’t even a sentence he can formulate in his head.

Writing a miscarriage isn’t something I’m well equipped enough to write with the kind of weight it deserves but I can tell you right now that if the reader miscarried he’d be stuck to you like white on rice. You think he hovers now? Watching the woman he loves suffer through something so traumatic and hollowing would be enough to truly make him break off into his obsessive and overprotective tendencies. Because he loved that baby, and the idea of being a father; and as much as he wants to mourn, you’re here and you’re real. There’d be no baby without you - There’d be no him without you. And seeing you suffer through something like that, saying it would break his heart wouldn’t even cut it.

So, expectedly he helicopters. Insists you accompany him more often on his work days, overcrowds you with his men whenever you travel, invites the home doctor over at so much as a sniffle. - Grief counseling is a no brainer, it’s good to talk about these things as soon as they happen and he wants you to have that reprieve. Even if he’s threatening the therapist into breaking HIPPA laws just so he can stay updated on his angel’s mental health. Anything that’ll help you get better, he’ll do. Anything you want from him - Anything, he’ll give it to you without question.

I can’t stress this enough that there is nothing you could do to make Kiyoomi feel anything other than complete devotion and frankly unhealthy adoration for you. You could spit in his face and he’d thank you twice for it. Something like that, something like grief? Oh, he’d only get significantly worse.

#crime lord!sakusa kiyoomi #crime au!kiyioomi #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #cw miscarriage

[romione-trope-fest]

Title: Not Another Statistic

Author: Nena-96, Nena96 on ao3

Selected Trope: Muggle AU

Brief Summary: After hearing four dreadful words, Hermione’s world had been turned upside down. The voices in her head mock her relentlessly, how could her body betray her? How is she ever going to go on? Was this a sign that motherhood turned its back on her? Most of all….why did it happen to her?

However, those demon-like voices are miraculously put to silence the moment she meets a nurse with the most captivating blue eyes that she’s ever seen. Nurse Ron Weasley, when she visits St. Mungo’s Women’s Health Center.

Word Count: 1,727 (multi-chapter)

Any relevant triggers: Miscarriage, Infertility issues

(A/N this dedicated to a nurse who helped me tremendously and I always think of her. Also, inspired by TSwift’s song Bigger Than The Whole Sky)

Chapter 1: No Heartbeat

“No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears…”

🔹🔹🔹🔹

Laying on the hospital bed, Hermione stares at the paintings that cover the ceiling. She absolutely hates how the stick figures of children playing in the park, mocked her. How could an innocent painting cause such pain? Well, it’s simple, it felt as though fate was mocking her with something she couldn’t have. Something that was stolen from her, then again how can it be stolen if it was never hers to begin with?

As the time ticked past, all Hermione could do was wait, until the nurse brought her the discharge papers. Then she’ll be able to go back home and wallow in her own sorrow. It wasn’t anything she could do to change her fate, even if magic was real she doubted it could take the pain out of her heart. No, it wasn’t possible at all…it felt as if a magical dagger was thrown and hit

It’s ludicrous, knowing that she came into the emergency room because of stomach pain. Then after waiting roughly an hour and a half, to be seen and taken to a room. After roughly ten minutes, she was given the news that her wretched body had betrayed her.

Sorry there’s no heartbeat.

Hearing those words was nothing compared to what was said next, six weeks.

It was six weeks.

It was forty-two days.

It was her personal hell.

For someone who could talk a mile a minute, Hermione had no words to say, it was as if every vocabulary word she knew was completely wiped away from her mind.

No words, just tortured thoughts. Just an ache in her heart that she will never overcome, no matter the days, months or even years that pass.

She wondered how long it would take the nurses to come back with her discharge papers, she wanted to leave. Yet, it seemed like everyone were taking their sweet time, while she dies on the inside. Things shouldn't have happened this way, the empty seat a few feet away from the bed shouldn't be empty. Yet, that's what happens when she makes a mistake and having a night of rendezvous with someone she meet at the dental gala that her parents were invited to. It was too good to be true, he was the perfect gentleman that night but he didn't have the capability of staying the next morning. Neither, did he explain that he was married, oh no...she found that out after receiving a phone call one morning that almost made her lose all hearing in her right ear.

How could she have been so careless that night, if only there was a way to back in time and prevented herself from going home with that junior dental assistant. Then she wouldn't be all alone, fighting the voices in her heard that's mocking her and laughing at her pain. She would be at home preparing Crookshanks' dinner for the night, instead of listening to the annoying beeping of the monitors around her.

Not having to wear a light blue and purple stripped hospital gown, all alone in a room that felt as if the walls were ready to close in on her at any given second.

Instead fate had decided to make a move and completely turn her world upside down.

Yes, she could always call her parents and let them know what's going on, but two things were stopping her from acting on that urge to hear their voices. The first reason, is her parents had just left on vacation to Australia a few days ago, and the second reason was simply not seeing the disappointment in their faces when she tells them she failed.

That...somehow motherhood gave one long look at her and said, nope she isn't dignified to hold the title as a mum. How could her body betray her in this fashion? Yes, she'll admit that motherhood wasn't in her plans for another few years, since she's trying her best to...to what actually? Keep a job, no..she already has a job that pays her well enough to buy all the things that she needs. So, what exactly was she waiting for?

It wasn't like she was a struggling college student that was barely making it through take-away meals.While constantly having going to the cafeteria to "borrow" utensils and plates because the closest store was an hour away from the campus. She wasn't irresponsible, so why couldn't the gentle arms of motherhood welcome her into a warm embrace? It didn't make sense at all-

Light tapping on glass of the sliding door, causes Hermione to break away from her thoughts as she turns her head. Dr. Slughorn was waiting on the other side of the door and gesture for her from if it's fine to enter the room. She only nodded and watched as slid open the door and walked into the room."Excuse me, Miss. Granger, sorry for the long wait. We're a bit short staffed, but here's your discharge papers, we recommend making an appointment. I've heard that St. Mungo's has an excellent Women's Health..."

As the Dr. Slughorn trailed off with praise of another clinic, Hermione simply felt as if everything was just white noise. It didn't seem real, even though she was staring at the papers that the doctor had given her...it just wasn't real. It couldn't be real, oh how she wished this was a cruel nightmare, in which she can wake up from. Yet, the words that graced the paper in her hands was the cold-hard truth that this was her painful reality.

She traced the words on the papers that held the horrid truth that was her reality.

After Visit Summary Hogwarts Emergency Center

Hermione Jean Granger

Reason for Visit: Miscarriage at 6 weeks

Hermione stared at the discharge summary in hatred and disgust, she couldn't stop herself from seeing the words that emphasized how her body had kept a secret from her for six weeks.

Six fucking weeks.

She sniffled and noticed how droplets of her tears began to fall, soon enough there were far too many splotches of water that now decorated the documents. She tried to keep herself from choking out a sob, yet it was proving to be far too difficult. Her world was spinning and the voices in her head, mixed with the aggravating sound of Dr. Slughorn's voice was causing her to get an headache.

This wasn't how her discharge papers should've been, she only came to Hogwarts ER, because of cramping...not....because of this.

At least you're young

A disgusting thought poisoned her mind, while mocking her with loud and obnoxious laugh. Wait wait...that wasn't her thoughts, nor was that even how she laughed. Those words came from Dr. Slughorn.

Hermione clenched the papers in her hands and looked up at the man wearing a pristine white lab coat and a pair of stethoscope around his neck, as he continued talking almost as if she wasn't there. It was as if he was treating her as just another statistic in the world, just another whimsical women who has gotten her life thrown into an abyss of despair.

"I beg your pardon, what did you just say?' Hermione gritted out as she tried to restraint herself from yelling at the doctor in front of her.

"Oh, I was simply saying that make sure to set up an appointment and you are free to go," Dr. Slughorn said with the most aggravating smile she has ever seen in her life.

"No, before that. You said, 'at least you're young.' Hermione glared at him with such fury, that if looks could kill, Dr. Slughorn wouldn't be standing wearing that ridiculous smile on his face.

"Oh- well yes. I did, I just meant that since you are still relatively young-"

"Excuse me, but why the fuck does it even matter that I'm young? A loss is still a fucking loss, how can you even say that?" Hermione forced herself to say, as she watched the man's face turn bright red in embarrassment, it was as if he realized a little too late what was spoken.

"Oh- no, I-I erm, I'm sorry...let me, oh heavens, I just realized," he tried to check the time on his watch, except he wasn't wearing one at all. This made him become even more nervous than before, "I uhm, another patient needed something. If everything is alright, you are free to go, make sure to uhm... set up an appointment at St. Mungo's," and with that half-arsed response, Dr. Slughorn left the room quickly. Hermione watched as Slughorn walked quickly down the hallway and out of her peripheral vision, and once again she was alone.

Except now, instead of her mind taunting her, Hermione wonders if she was just another statistic in the medical world. If she was just another statistic of a women who lost before having the chance to even love. Another statistic in this cruel world filled with deception and atrocities.

Was she just another statistic?

Now instead of being known as Hermione Jean Granger, a dedicated librarian...she had simply become a statistic in the world. She had become just another, one out of four women who experience miscarriage.

No. She wouldn't allow that to happen, she wasn't just another statistic in the world, no... she's Hermione Granger. She's going to prove to idiots like Slughorn, and the world that she wasn't just another number, and with that Hermione grabbed her belongings and marched over to the sliding door. Flinging the door open with such force that the noise had caught the attention from the nurses at the circulation desk. Hermione watched as the nurses looked at her with pity, and she tried her best not to shed a single tear. No, not right now....she'll save her tears once she goes home and cries into Crookshanks bright ginger fur.

Instead, she raised her chin and ignored the stares and proceeded to walk down the hallway and soon enough out of the building. She's going to prove that she wasn't just another statistic in this world and she knew exactly what she was going to do.

#submission #Nena-96 #ron weasley #romione #hermione granger #ronmione #Romione Trope Fest #nena writes #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #tw: infertility issues #tw: miscarriage #Tswift inspired fic #muggle AU

[tamiisnthere]

Altaïr ❤️ Reader Oneshot - Miscarriage

Summary: Reader has miscarried and Altaïr comforts her. Trigger Warning: Mention of Miscarriage (Also sorry for bad English as always. 😓)

I wanted to write something like this for a long time, but writing suddenly stopped being fun for me because my fanfics are always trash. 😭

[Name] was lying on the bed, hugging her legs to chest and staring into nothingness. Her eyes were red from constant crying. Her broken heart ached from the recent tragedy. She felt like she had lost a part of herself. She closed her eyes once again and whimpered quietly.

Altaïr watched his partner in the shadows of their bedroom. He hid his emotions, but inside he felt pitiful for her. Soon he slowly walked over to the bed, laid down next to her and hugged her gently.

"Habibti…" he whispered softly in her ear and snuggled closer.

"Altaïr… I-" [Name] stuttered, fighting against her tears, "I'm sorry…" "For what?" the young assassin wondered, gently caressing her cheek to make her look into his golden eyes. "For not telling you I was pregnant." He shook his head slowly, "No… It's not your fault."

"But it is! That's why I miscarried!" "Shhhh… Calm down, [Name]…" Altaïr comforted her by hugging her tighter, "I understand that you were afraid of my reaction because I told you I'm not ready to be a father yet."

Altaïr snuggled closer and kissed [Name’s] cheek. "But that doesn't mean I'm mad at you."

[Name] continued to be silent and sighed, starting to relax in his embrace. "You know… We could have had a baby boy," she whispered to him. Altaïr gently stroked her hair and pressed his face to her neck. He placed his hand on her belly.

He couldn't believe there was their child, who could be born in a few months. His eyes began to sting from the tears. The day before he was on a mission and received a message that his beloved had miscarried, he quickly returned to Masyaf as soon as possible. He could become a father. He could finally have a family. Their son was a part of both his parents combined.

The miscarriage was caused by [Name]'s stress due to pressure from her master and fear of her partner's reaction to announcing her pregnancy. Even though Altaïr wasn't with her the whole time, he could imagine her pain and trauma that she experienced.

"[Name]…" Altaïr broke the silence, "Please, don't blame yourself for what happened. I should have taken the responsibility when we made love for the first time."

"No, Altaïr," [Name] spoke up, "I should have stopped you, I shouldn't have enjoyed it."

They were silent for a moment in their embrace, listening to each other's breathing. Altaïr leaned his elbow against the pillow to look at [Name]'s face: "[Name], you know very well how much I love you." She looked at him, "I-I know you do..." she whined softly.

Altaïr smiled sadly and caressed her cheek, "Habibti, you're the only one who got my eyes…" He leaned his face towards hers and their lips touched while closing their eyes. [Name] placed her hands on his cheeks, slowly pulling down his hood so she could feel his hair.

Shortly after the kiss, they leaned their foreheads together and looked at each other's eyes. "Altaïr…" [Name] whispered with a small smile, "I'm glad I still have you. But…" she got nervous, "But what if we never manage to have a child in the future?"

Altaïr nuzzled into the side of her neck to comfort her, "You don't have to worry, dear. When you become my wife, we'll try again. And if you get pregnant again before marriage, please tell me and I will ensure you will be healthy and stress-free. I know you will be a great mother one day."

His words encouraged [Name], she smiled and cuddled closer to him. "Thank you, Altaïr… This is the main reason why I love you so much." "I love you as well, my gorgeous dove…" ♡

#tw miscarriage #miscarriage tw #Assassin's Creed #assassins creed #ac #Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad #Altaïr #Altair #Altair Ibn-La'Ahad #assassin's creed au #Assassin's Creed X Reader #Altaïr X Reader #Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad x Reader #reader #tamiisnthere's fanfic #assassin #female!reader #oneshot #fanfic #story #fanfiction #altaïr ibn la'ahad #altair ibn la ahad x reader

[secret-time-is-here]

Underlust gets a bad rep, not the story, the concept.

TW: Mature topics/sexual themes, and miscarriage

We can argue the about the story and its execution all day, but the concept itself is the most realistic alternate universe and possibly timeline (more on that later) of Undertale.

For some much needed background monsters in the underground need HoPe [HP] to survive. Also if I'm factually wrong on any of this please correct me, and I'd love to hear constructive criticism and/or further thoughts on this.

Underlust starts with the idea of Toriel miscarrying Asriel which causes a depression in the underground, causing more miscarriages and loss of live due to the lack of HoPe [HP]. The underground becomes underpopulated and the royal scientist makes LusT [LT] (an offshoot of LoVe [LV]) to bring the population back up. By the time the seventh human falls into the underground, LusT is still rampant.

When not pushed to the extreme, this is very realistic for Undertale. Think about the amount of kids, and considering 7 children fall after Asriel's death, let's include teens, you pass on an average playthrough of Undertale. Pushes the lack of kids/teens to the extreme, in younger portrayals of them, we could even say Papyrus and Sans might not be alive.

The concept very well could be an alternate timeline of Undertale, similar to if Asriel and Chara didn't die, or Toriel and Asgore stayed together.

Sticking to the roots of the concept (while using the existing Underlust), suddenly the underground isn't so much overly sex-crazed but trying to survive. It makes the concept closer to Horrortale than Underswap or Underfell. Although of course, it's a fandom and people are free to write/draw things how they want.

With the context of their history, Underlust becomes something solemn and a fight for life. Furthermore, in the context of the multiverse and including the general battles between Nightmare, Error, and the Stars, Lust while he may not be as fight oriented as others, is still a Sans. It's arguable that Lust may better understand HoPe and LoVe/LusT better than any of the stars, having a fight with it everyday.

To close, Underlust is criminally underrated, and I wish people wrote about the AU and Lust more, because the concept is fucking amazing.

#undertale #utmv #underlust #undertale au #mature topics #miscarriage #miscarrying

[zack-hazbin-blog]

What was Niffty’s husband like?…he in Hell too with her?

HIIII sorry this took me so long to answer but short answer, no he is not!

He and Niffty were high-school sweethearts who got married straight after graduation, things were good for a bit before they. went downhill.

Nothing specific went wrong they were just both not quite ready for marriage, Danny didn't want to be tied down and Niffty is, to put it nicely, needy. she is like the perfect mental illness storm, undiagnosed neurodivergent girl who grew up in a less than healthy household in the 50s when they were still lobotomizing women,,,,, its not pretty.

Shes the kind of person who would work herself into a whole entire breakdown because you talked to her in a slightly different tone than normal and shes convinced she did something terribly wrong and you hate her, so Danny growing increasingly distant after the wedding (and a few pregnancy fails) like stressed her out to a horrid degree, which only made her try that much harder, which only pushed him away further.

evveeeeennntually he started cheating with this other girl (her name is Rebeca in my head, some career girl who just moved into town, not bad by any means but not conformist to 1950s social standards, did not know he was married) and Niffty caught them and murdered them both, it was very spur of the moment, niffty isnt a especially violent person to me shes just very desperate (and has a lot of pent up frustration) and by the time she actually got a hold of herself it was too late. she died after mixing some chemicals that should not be mixed while trying to clean up the crime scene

she doesnt feel bad for killing the girl, in her head Danny was the victim of some awful temptress whore and, honestly, if she'd been a better wife in the first place then this never would have happened (she is the pinnacle of mental health you see) and due to her perceived innocence of Danny in this situation she never looked for him in Hell, she doesn't think he's down there

besides that Alastor hired her like, a month after she fell so she was busy after that, Alastor has been keeping an ear out for him though, he'd like to have a chat with him ^^

#alastor would have hated danny if he was a perfectly upstanding moral citizen and a loving husband #hes just like that #but after niffty casually mentions some of the worse things that happened he hates him even more #he figured that he probably got cleansed by now but #hes committed the name to memory #halo hotel rambles #hazbin rewrite #hazbin au #niffty #tw murder #tw miscarriage #sort of #ig #its vaguely mentioned but theres no harm in tagging it

[nonuggetshere]

HIII another FaaF variant yeah sorry it WILL happen again

Content warning: Pregnancy/childbirth, child loss, possible miscarriage mention

(Amanita is WL's name, yes I changed it again)

This is depressing so far but please consider; Hornet, Ghost and Flower (Hollow, for the new here) get to grow up together and play in secret

Flower can hear Ghost's voidspeech because they've got enough void in their system for that. PK, while also being void poisoned, only has some minor poisoning and is a god made of light that can successfully fight it off so he can't hear them

Kind of considering for PK to try to turn Flower into a full vessel in separation to keep them alive but I dunno if I want to include dunking thay baby in ink in this AU (Another idea is that they're dunked but don't become fully void, but reach an equilibrium of void vs light and their condition stabilises)

#thylacines can talk #faaf au #child death tw #pregnancy tw #tokophobia tw #ask to tag #funnily enough the miscarriage mention and the child loss arent related. poor PK and WL cant stop losing kids jesus christ 😭

[moral-terpitude]

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed - part 5

Word Count: 905

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage/ infant loss.

No readmore because I don’t want to lose paragraphs. It’s still giving me problems. Sorry.

[Masterlist] [Previous Part]

Tommy sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He hadn’t slept the rest of the night, and you not coming to bed had kept him tossing and turning anyway.

He knew he had fucked up as soon as the words left his mouth, knew he said the wrong thing, and felt like shit as soon as he realized it.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through until he clicked on Finn’s name. He thought about calling the florist first, but he knew if you hadn’t come to bed that sending flowers with an apology wouldn’t even begin to fix it.

He would have to truly go to the source of the problem.

“Hello?” Finn answered, voice cracking as he spoke. 10AM and the phone ringing was the only reason he woke up.

Tommy shook his head.

“What the fuck is your problem, Finn?”

“Morning to you too, Tom?”

“Fuck off. You come into my house in the middle of the night, piss off my wife, and then want a warm welcome?”

He groaned, the sound of sheets kicking around before he spoke, “I don’t remember a thing, Tommy. I swear.”

“You don’t remember a thing? How does telling Y/N that she’s not Charlie’s mother sound? Ring any fucking bells? Because I don’t even know what you said, but I know you fucked up.”

Finn grumbled.

“It’s time you start being responsible for your actions, Finn. Everyday I feel like you’re pushing against everything I’ve built trying to fucking topple it over.”

“Tommy, I’m not—“

“Then start fucking acting like it and row the boat in the same direction as the rest of us!”

“Okay, Tommy.”

“I’ve got you going in to the old BSA factory starting this afternoon. 12 hours shift, six days a week. Should keep you out of trouble and help you repay all the money you owe Arthur and I.”

“But—“

“Finn, you talk big and throw our name around like you’re the one that’s made it mean something, but you need to start acting like it, because right now, you’re far from it.”

The line was silent as Tommy waited for another round of protesting but none came.

“Now, think of a good apology for Y/N, and get the fuck out of my house.”

He ended the call, tossing the phone to the far side of the desk.

You hadn’t messaged, hadn’t called, and there hadn’t even been an email sent that he’d been CC’d in on that morning.

He buried his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes until he saw stars. He hadn’t tried to call you either. What was there to say? He had fucked up, he knew it, and he feared one of these days you wouldn’t accept his apologies any more.

Two sharp knocks at the door came before Lizzie peeked in, “Everything okay?”

Tommy shook his head, leaning against the open window before lighting a cigarette, “No, but we’ll manage.”

She hummed, setting a folder down on the desk, “Want me to check on her, I need some papers signed anyway.”

“Don’t make it obvious, yeah?”

Lizzie nodded, departing silently.

Looking down at the people traversing the sidewalk, he just wanted to rewind everything, go back to Sunday and enjoy you and the peace and quiet of the house all over again. Back to normal.

He knew how much the attitude of other people toward you not being Charlie’s biological mother had killed you in the beginning. The school he had been in, before being transferred to a better one, had always given you issues picking him up. Prying mothers asking questions that were none of their business. Letting you know they could never love someone else’s child like their own.

It was supposed to be easier when you got married.

He watched in a somber mood the rain started, as if the world knew how he felt on the inside.

You had never treated Charlie like he wasn’t your own. When he would have a nightmare, when he was still small, you always put him in the middle of the bed to keep him safe. You bandaged cuts and took care of bloody noses.

You had decided when you ended up in the hospital, terrible stomach pain, and the result in the end only being able to look at the 12 week formed baby once before throwing up that the two of you would just tell Charlie it had been a stomach problem that put you there.

No one else in the family needed to know.

(Of course Polly knew; about six weeks along she had told you to take a test, but you had assumed you had missed your week just due to stress.)

You were the one that held everything together for the two of them, now.

You had been the one that warned Tommy that Finn was going to be a bad influence on Charlie long before the issues actually started.

He knew you deserved much more than a proper apology. He needed to listen and start putting his own household first, stop trying to fix everything else.

Tommy rose from the window frame, jaw tense before resigning himself to the fact that calling the florist wouldn’t be a fix, it wouldn’t even be an apology. But it would be a start.

#tw miscarriage #tw child loss #tommy shelby x yn #modern au #modern!tommy shelby #modern tommy shelby #modern peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic

[chinchillamajor]

It's Dandelion's first birthday!

And you're all invited!

------

(oop-- forgot the first Golbaby here hasn't been publicly revealed yet! My bad!!)

------

So today, I lit a remembrance candle for IRL Dandelion's Nope Day, last year.

And then I sat back and was just... *so happy.*

I honestly never thought this would be a day I'd be celebrating.

Much less, doing it surrounded by the friends I've made through a spark of an idea like "See this fictional old man? I would like to see him pregnant, and here's how I think it would happen."

Thanks to @mushroomnoodles , @cottagedeer , @masculinemiracles , and all the other folks (and their respective Golbabies) I've met, thanks to this particular sandbox we've all been playing in, this past month or two.

I keep saying it, but that's only because it keeps being true: y'all have brought a candle-flame of joy to my life that I didn't have, this time last year. And I think that's just *cool.*

Thank you. All of y'all.

Now if you'll excuse me, this Star Simon's gonna go enjoy a slice of cake. :3

#star simon au #cw mpreg #simon petrikov mpreg #golbaby #golbabies #look at all these beautiful kiddos from across the multiverse that we made with our thoughts #yes good #cw implied mpreg #cw implied miscarriage

[gemini-forest]

What's one of the saddest fact in the SIL bad timeline?

Oh at some point in the apocalypse Jayden got pregnant. They were actually excited, so was Leo.

But unfortunately they lost the baby due to health complications and the environment they were in. The stress was too much. Jayden never really mentally recovered from it. They coped by calling Jayden their baby. Casey was like, 6 when this all happened.

So he's a bit worried 'bout his new baby sister on the way in the good timeline.

So CJ is a wee protective of Annie

#ask gem #cw mention of miscarriage #Sorry I'm Late Au #Sil au #rottmnt Sorry I'm late

[precalamity]

fishcarriage is what I’d use to drive around beautiful princess cindereela <3

#reference to the previous post #fishcarriage is a pun of miscarriage I’m so sorry #Cinderella #Disney #byler #to justify the previous tag #we determined Will would be fish Cinderella in this au #mike can drive the carriage