#angsty fluff?

This little shit books it to where you are, practically breaking down the doors to your makeshift hospital room to see you alive. He made it into the doorway but just stood for a moment, stagnant, and smiling at you even though you were unconscious and unable to see it. He just tentatively steps in, keeping quiet and taking the nearest chair to your bed and looking over your form, analyzing the monitors and your health stats and realizing that you really were going to be okay. Maybe some mental trauma and physical therapy but you were alive and okay. He may clean himself up a bit before you wake up, switch out parts in order to not have you see how he harmed himself in the process of trying to avenge you. Ro’ll wash up, new suit and tie, and it’s strangely domestic since he’s a sharp dressed man, tall dark and brooding, cuffing his sleeves and fixing his hair like he’s going on a date. He visits you, getting you gorgeous but fake flowers, knowing you hate the smell of stale ones, and would rather keep them around than toss them out to rot in a sterile trashcan. He waits for you and I’m not sure if he’s noticed, but his mimicked human behavior. Absentmindedly, he’ll drum his fingers against the skin of your hand or palm. He’ll roll his sleeves up to his forearms and loosen his tie, something that he knows for a fact turns you on by the ministrations and image alone. And when your eyes flicker open, groaning at the fluorescents above beaming down unforgivingly, he turns in a flash to gaze at you while you come to. Chapped lips parted you gasp a little, oxygen automatically filling your lungs from the small tubes nestled in the nook of your nose. He helps you sit up, figuring you wouldn’t be in your right mind to talk or be alert after what had happened and the bodily trauma you went through. The toothy childish grin that shifts over his face as he hears his name, the one you gifted him, as your first word coming croaked out and stiff from your dusty vocal cords, is something you’ll always try and recreate. He sits as close as possible before you argue your way into having him sit in the bed with you. As he holds your hand and presses kisses to the knuckles, he feels warm again at your side. Where he’s meant to be.

Summary: The reader has some news, how will Cisco take it? 

Pairing: Cisco Ramon x Reader (The Flash)

Word Count: 852

Notes: This one-shot was requested by an anon, asking for the prompts “Oh God, I need a drink” (193), “You’d be a great dad” (58), and “I’m pregnant (39). I believe this is one of the first requests that I’ve done, and I hope I did the request justice! This was a little bit more angsty at the beginning than I aimed for, but I hope the ending was fluffy enough for your liking :D

Warnings: Pregnancy.

Holy Fuck, guys! Thank you so much! I’m so sorry for not posting anything in godknows how long so here it is! My biggest list to date! My wlw brain kinda jumped out for some, but please feel free to change up the pronouns to male or gn!

*Fluff/Angst Prompt List*

“Hey, if you need to get out of here, just squeeze my hand 3 times, ok?”

“Would you still love me if the world was just made up in my mind?”

“Fuck you! That’s my partner and they are the love of my life regardless of whatever image you’ve projected onto me!.”

“My love for you burns like a thousands suns and...you know what? This poetic shit isn’t my style. Wanna go grab a coffee?”

“Babe, I love you so much, but you didn’t have to buy me 100 of my favorite flowers.”

“And everyone thinks my favorite flowers are the same as my grandma’s, but it isn’t. I just said that so my grandma can have twice the amount of flowers.”

“Listen, when you meet my parents, do not finish your plate or they will fill it back up and feed you to death.”

*buys and peels like 7 crates of fruit because my pregnant wife craved fruit at 3 am*

“Here’s the kitchen, the living room, our bedroom, and my office where I write my little morning poems to my wife.”

“This is the 7th time you’ve asked for a cuddle, and it isn’t even noon yet.”

“My son thinks I’m into this niche interest like him, but I haven’t a clue what anything is and just like spending time with him. Off-topic, do you watch this show called Naruto?”

“When my kids have a bad day, I pack an extra fruit snack in their lunch.”

“I’ve been using a food service to deliver cooked meals to my elderly neighbor who’s widowed. She thinks it’s one of her kids, but it’s been me all along.”

“My grandpa called me over to his house to give me his 4 giant change jars that he’s been collecting for my college fund.”

“Kiss me again. I need to know this is real.”

“We can’t be sure if the curse is broken so kiss me like until midnight.”

“Your eyes are so beautiful.”

“This was a great idea. Let’s get married again in our next life.”

“Look at the lotuses. See how they persevere despite starting their life under the water? That is us right now, and, one day, we will see the light like the lotus flower together as we are meant to, my love.”

“Shut up, and hug me already.”

*in a drunken stupor* “Don’t ask me to spend the night or I might stay forever.”

“I wanna grow old with you. I wanna watch a thousands sunsets with you.”

“Just as you breath life into your work, you breathed life to my mundane and ordinary life.”

“My love, let’s run away together. We can make a new start with just us, and no one can keep us apart.”

“Sometimes all you can do is your best, and that’s ok.”

“Just give me your hands! How could you forget to bring mittens?”

“Here just,” *pulls s/o into their jacket, “Better?”

*wakes up from a fever dream to find s/o sleeping next to the bed with a tray of medicine and juice*

“Heaven is doing all it can to keep us apart, but I promise to come back to you.”

“He told me he would come back as the first blossoms of spring.”

“Are you running a fever?” *pulls their forehead to touch theirs*

*holding their hands* “Don’t get the wrong idea! I don’t want you to get lost.”

“It’s ok to want to be loved, my dear.”

“Every face, every identity, every life you’ve had, my love, I have always found you.”

“I love you. I love you more than there are stars in the sky so please don’t forget me.”

“I will always come home. Have I ever lied to you?”

“If you hold the calligraphy brush like this,” *holds the brush and their hand* “You have more control over your strokes.”

*tucks their hair behind their ears* “Why do you hide this beauty?”

“It’ll be faster if I carry you.”

“These calloused and rough hands do so much to ensure my happiness, and that is why they are also the most beautiful hands in the world.”

“Rest now, love, for I will take care of the rest.”

“I don’t know why I love you so much. I just know you make me feel safe.”

“There is something about you. I just can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Thank you for being the only one to listen to me. Like truly listen to me.”

“I feel like I’ve known you forever. Is that crazy?”

“What are you doing to me? When I see you, my heart skips over a beat, and when you speak, that’s all I hear.”

“Human emotion is a heavy burden, but it isn’t one you need to carry alone, love”

“And when you inevitably leave me, will you still love me?”

“One day, when the earth reclaims my body, search for me in the sky and in the stars for I will always watch over you.”

-✨

A/N: [I should say something here. Fill it in later] Word Count: 317 Rating: T - canon typical violence and gun references

Hanzo’s legs itch again. The tiny phantom pains pinch and tingle down his legs. They grow like the cresting of waves along a shoreline below him. One forceful tug wakes him from an already fitful slumber. It’s disorienting, the heat of it traveling up his spine to gnaw at his tail bone. He lays looking up at the ceiling. Eyes bleary with sleep and sweat soaked sheets clinging to his feverish body.  It takes a moment for his brain to register exactly what woke him. When it does it only adds another layer to his discomfort. Spots bloom in his vision now, pulsing white and grey in the dim light of his bedroom. Their strobing turns his stomach but closing his eyes only makes it worse.

His dragons emerge then from their warm little nest under his blankets. Tiny tongues flick out along his brow and shell of his ear trying in vain to comfort him. Hanzo whimpers at the small gesture. As hyper sensitive as his skin was it felt like needles poking and stabbing into his face. They change tactics. Sharp claws skitter off his torso down to his legs. They pull the blankets from his sweaty grip and off his body. Chirping and cooing they scratch at the chrome and steel plating around his knees hunting for the locking mechanism.

“No-” Hanzo croaks out. His body finally pulling out of the fog enough for him to swat them away. “Do not take them off.” His dragons whine, high pitch and full of worry. They have taken his legs off before, it had helped before. Back when he first lost his legs, back when his father refused to call the doctors as punishment. “I’m fine.” He lies. “I just need to walk it off.”

He pushes himself up into a sitting position. Cold metal feet touching equally cold wood flooring. The itching turns into burning. The sensors in his feet send information up his fraying nerves. He groans out long and low in frustration. He just wished to sleep. Perhaps he should go to the med bay- no, no he had been there twice in that many weeks over this. Angie would start to ask too many questions. She was already nagging him about regular check ups and physical therapy.

No. He could deal with this on his own. Rubbing at the scarred flesh of his thighs to warm them he focuses on his breathing. Centering himself and distracting himself from the pain just enough to move unimpeded. When the tension eases he stands hobbling to his door.

The outer hallway was quiet, it must be very late in the evening for no one to be up. The few reasonable agents stationed here probably in their rooms or already asleep. Slowly, Hanzo makes his way down the sterile white walls to the rec room. Perhaps a hot compress and tea would work tonight. The muscles of his legs and spine sting and twitch under his tight skin. It stops him for a moment, the concert of the wall the only thing keeping him upright.

Screw the tea, he had alcohol stored around here somewhere.

“You alright darlin’?” The archer jerks in surprise. So caught up in his own misery he hadn’t even realized where his feet had taken him. His eyes gaze on an equally startled McCree. A spoonful of ice cream hovering halfway to the cowboy’s lips. Jesse blinks back owlishly caught in his own rights. Hanzo’s knees finally give out. “Hey!”

He is caught up in a strong, sure grip. The cowboy’s dessert was cast aside to fall to the kitchen floor. Hanzo’s upper body is safe but his knees hit hard on the tile forcing a cry of pain from him. “Shit Hanz- talk ta’ me. Need me to get Ang’? ”

“I thought you were lactose intolerant.” Hanzo blurts through the pain. His addled mind latching one to that one thought randomly.

Jesse barks out a concerned little laugh. “Some things are worth the pain. Don’t be tellin’ Angie that or she’ll tan my hide. But don’t change the subject. You good?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He lies once more. Hanzo tries and fails to compose himself, his feet refusing to cooperate. No, that wasn’t right. His legs worked fine, he had gotten a tune up just last week and he  hadn’t been put out on the field since then. His body just refused to function properly. He leans heavily into Jesse’s warmth beyond embarrassed at this show of weakness. “Can you help me up?” Jesse raises a brow but doesn't argue.

Wordlessly the burly man helps his teammate up, allowing Hanzo to use him as a crutch to limp to the old, but comfortable couch nearby. Collapsing with a sigh of relief Hanzo drops his head into his hands. “Phantom pains are the worst.” Jesse says connecting the dots.

“How?”He smiles softly at the look of surprise on Hanzo’s face. He wiggles his mechanical fingers out in front of the archers face. Hanzo flushes crimson. “I’m sorry.” Jesse shrugs it off coming to sit next to him.

“Ain’t a problem sug’.” He points at his legs. “So what gotcha this time? An itchy toe? Charley horse? Legs fell asleep? My ‘arm’ fell asleep once in a meetin’ nearly drove me insane. Got real close to chucking it at Jack’s head just ta get the damn thing over with.” Hanzo chuckles momentarily distracted by Jesse’s blasé tone.

“It’s more of an incessant pulsing,” He admits. “sometimes a shooting pain. I can ignore it when it’s just throbbing but then the stabbing starts up and-” He trails off waving at his legs. “I want to scratch and knead them, but what good will that do to metal?” Jesse is quiet for a moment. His eyes turn soft with understanding.

“Can I help? Promise if you don’t like it I’ll stop. Got a bottle of bourbon under the sink, I know that’ll help. But let’s keep that as a last resort.” He winks. “Don’t worry I ain’t a snitch to Angie. I understand the need to dull it, unhealthy coping or not. I can’t judge.” Hanzo nods, tired and desperate. He’ll try anything. “Great! Go head and prop your legs up here.” Jesse pats his legs. Once elevated Hanzo watches with rapt attention as Jesse drapes the ratty throw left on the back of the couch over the metal of his legs up to his mid thigh. “Make sure to watch now.”

Making sure his movements were clearly televised Jesse takes a leg and begins messaging Hanzo’s slender ankle through the blanket. Hanzo feels nothing at first. Then slowly he feels it, he could almost imagine the feel Jesse’s callus fingers digging into the non-existent muscle and sinew of his calf. He moves with practiced ease poking and digging into his trouble spots. Hanzo felt like he could cry as the sharp pains turn into a manageable throb. It wasn’t gone completely but this was manageable. “Ol’ trick I learned from some vets back in Blackwatch.” Jesse rumbles breaking the silence. “It ain’t magic, but it tricks the brain a bit. Helps at least till your meds can kick in.”  

“I’m not on any.” Hanzo admits wilting at Jesse’s sharp gaze. “What are you?” He snaps defensively, crossing his arms.  

“ ‘Course I am! An’ I go to therapy once a week.” Oh. Jesse drops Hanzo’s leg gently and grabs his hand. “Listen Hanzo. Like I said I ain’t gunna pry but there isn’t anything wrong with gettin’ help. Trust me. Wish I had listened back in the day. An’ when I was on the lamb- damn it was tough.” Hanzo barely listens. His eyes locked on the warm soft hand wrapped around his. He laments it’s lost when Jesse moves away, going back to the leg he hadn’t worked on yet.

“I see. I- perhaps I will talk to Angie later.” Jesse beams at him. “Till then- I thank you.”

Another little s4 ficlet, that has taken me waaayyy too long to write. Thanks to @i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind and @indelibleevidence and @take2intotheshower for listening as I hummed and hawed with this one, trying to get things right. Thank you also for the proofread, Heather. You guys are great!

If you’d rather read this on FFN the link is here. Please let me know what you think 😊.

This fic is slightly canon divergent for 4x09. Instead of ambushing Kurt as he gets home, Shepherd is at the address that Jane gave them. Shepherd dies in a shootout that ensues. Instead of going home, Kurt goes to the hospital to take Jane home.  

 Remorse

Jane was sitting on the exam table, the chill of the room penetrating the thin hospital gown she was wearing in addition to her underwear. Her clothes were on a chair by the door, but at that moment even that distance felt like miles. Sighing, she leaned her head against her arms. She was exhausted, mentally more so than physically. Yes, she was achy from the fight and the bruised ribs caused by it, and the fever she had developed during her little journey through her mind was still present but the battle in her brain had left her drained.  

Hearing the door open, she looked up.

“Kurt!” His name escaped her in an exclamation. She had been expecting one of the nurses, a member of her security detail or even Rich, but Kurt’s entry caught her by surprise.

“Hey,” he greeted her warmly as he walked up to her, taking her hand in his.

Jane took a few seconds to look at him: he was no longer wearing his body armor, only the ever-present holster on his hip. She noticed some dark stains on his jeans. Blood. She gasped, looking at him in alarm.

“Kurt, are you injured? What–”

He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m fine, it’s not my blood. It’s…” He glanced away briefly, sighing. “It’s Shepherd’s.”

“What happened?” Jane asked, although she suspected she already knew.

“She was at the address that you gave us, but she didn’t give up without a fight. She started a shootout, wounding a couple of agents before she was shot. We tried to save her, but she bled out.” He gave a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry, Jane. I know you were hoping to talk to her, to get closure.”

She nodded, numb somehow. She was conflicted. On one hand she was glad that the woman, who had made her adolescence and much of her adult life hell with her mind games and manipulation, was dead, but on the other, it felt as if death had given Shepherd the last laugh. Now, having Remi’s memories as well, she could never make Shepherd answer the questions that lingered. Or have her answer for all the terrible things she had done or had people do.

“Jane…”

“I’m okay.”

As Kurt cupped her cheek, she saw the bandage on his arm and the guilt came flooding back. That’s my fault.

She reached out, gingerly tracing her fingers over the bandage. “Kurt, I’m so sorry I did this. I–“

He shook his head, dismissing her apology. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “I got a prescription for antibiotics from the doctor and it’s going to be fine.”

She averted her eyes, looking down at the floor. Somehow the room felt even colder now.

“You’re shivering…” Kurt exclaimed, engulfing her in an embrace.

Jane breathed a weary sigh and pressed her cheek against Kurt’s shoulder, closing her eyes. She didn’t speak, just leaned into his arms and calming touch as he slowly ran his hand up and down her back. His touch had always had that soothing effect on her, ever since the day they met, and today wasn’t an exception.

She gave a quiet sound of protest as Kurt pulled back.

“You’re still running a fever,” he said with concern as she met his eyes. She felt an inexplicable warmth in her chest at his look. Yes, there was worry, but the look was one he reserved only for her. The love and tenderness shining in there almost brought her to tears.

“I’m fine, Kurt,” she said, hoping to convince him.  

Every bit the worried husband that he was, he gazed at her, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head slightly. She leaned into his touch as he cupped her cheek. “Maybe you should stay here overnight, just to be sure that it won’t spike?”

“No, they already gave me something for the fever and instructions for Tylenol if it persists.” Jane sounded almost desperate, even to her own ears. She gave him a pleading look, leaning closer to him. “Kurt, please,” she murmured. “I just want to go home”. She felt physically and emotionally exhausted, and she could feel a headache approaching. She desperately wanted to go home, crawl into her own bed and fall asleep in her husband’s arms.

Kurt held her close, kissing her hair. “Okay. We’ll go.”

4. Patton x Logan – Logicality

Patton was laying on his bed, cuddling his favorite fluffy stuffed animal to his chest, daydreaming about anything at all. There was a solid but gentle tap at his door, which signaled one specific Side was at his door.

Logan.

“Come in Logan.” Patton called out as stared at the ceiling, not making any movements to get up.

Patton heard the door open, but it was out of his line of sight. Small, soft, but purposeful footsteps approached his place on the bed. Logan’s face came into view.

“Hey Patton...” Logan greeted with an unusually small sounding voice.

That fact pulled Patton upright and straight into ‘something is wrong and I will fix it’ mode. Patton took in Logan’s full figure. Body language, the state of his clothes, the fact Logan wasn’t making eye contact.

Without any hesitation, Patton wrapped his arms around Logan, who initially stiffened at the contact, but then melted into Patton’s embrace.

Patton let Logan indulge in the embrace a little before breaking the silence. “Are you okay?”

Logan was still for a beat. Then Patton felt him shudder as Logan started to gently cry. 

Patton could tell that Logan needed this release, and pressing him for the specific reason was not what Logan needed right now.

He was Logan’s shoulder to cry on, wherever and whenever he needed it.

A time later, Logan’s cries slowed to a stop and they sat in silence. Both sides indulging in the warm embrace of each other’s company. Each other’s heartbeat was all both sides could hear.

Eventually, Logan’s embrace with Patton became more and more gentle until Patton realized that Logan was falling asleep. He looked up at Logan to see his eyes half lidded and dropping.

Patton waited a little longer until he knew Logan was fully asleep before he moved. He gently picked Logan up into a carrying position and then gently laid him down onto Patton’s bed. Patton laid the covers over him and removed Logan’s glass, placing them on the closest bedside table.

Patton then joined Logan in the bed, knowing that he couldn’t leave his room now that Logan was here. Removing his own glasses he settled himself down.

Logan shifted unconsciously as Patton shifted himself get himself comfortable in the bed. And Patton found himself in the embrace of the sleepy(/ing) Logan.

As Patton felt himself slipping into sleep, he let the smile he had been feeling build blossom on his face.