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queenimmadolla · 2 months

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𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝

Summary: A glimpse into Eddie’s morning as a first time and young dad with his baby. Oh, and you’re there, too.

Warnings: allusions to sexy stuff, descriptions of breastfeeding (it’s natural—suck it up), and fluff.

a/n: pulled this one out of the vault for you guys, written last July. hope you like it!

Eddie’s up before you and surprised to see it’s light outside, a sight he hasn’t woken up to in the last couple of months. Two, to be exact.

That’s when the two of you had brought Penny home.

Eddie yawned, impressively loud before he slapped a hand over his mouth, gaze flickering to you but you were still asleep; on your stomach with your face partially hidden in your pillow. You’d successfully kicked the sheets off yourself in your sleep, leaving your legs bare and your top half covered with one of Eddie’s larger shirts.

One of your legs was bent at the knee and raised up near your elbow.

God, you always looked so fucking delectable. All he’d have to do is rouse you with some kisses pressed to your neck, settle himself behind you, pull his boxers down and move your panties to the side and he could just—

Eddie inhaled sharply, tearing his gaze away from your body before his blood could rush off to an area he didn’t have the time to acknowledge, as the very reason he couldn’t partake in his little fantasy cooed from her crib.

She’d been the result of a very similar event.

He took a couple of moments to calm himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he promised, soon.

Then he got out of bed, snagging a band t-shirt from the dresser as he walked to the crib on the other end of the room.

Eddie yanked on the shirt—only briefly struggling with the arm holes—before he was peering into the crib, mouth breaking out in a megawatt grin.

Penny was awake alright, big brown eyed stare focused on a sticker that had been plastered to the wall of his room long before she was even conceived. You’d swaddled her before putting her to bed last night, so she looked like an adorable, content burrito.

Once she realized Eddie was hovering over her, the sticker lost her attention and those big beautiful eyes were on him, sparkling as her mouth parted in a gummy smile big enough to rival his own.

Daddy came to rescue her from confinement.

“Hi, baby, good morning!” Eddie cooed, trying his best to excitedly whisper so as to not disturb you, but he couldn’t help it. He was still so thrilled—and fucking terrified—to be a dad, to have that cute face peering up at him every morning and waiting for him when he got home from work. She always looked at him like he was the greatest thing to walk the earth, always so delighted to see her daddy.

Even though she’d start crying for you the moment you came into view—but you had an advantage he lacked, you always had her food on you. Her walking meal ticket.

And Eddie couldn’t even blame her, he was a huge fan of your boobs and he’d even bet he appreciated them more than Penny.

Eddie reached into the crib, tugging the tucked in corner of the blanket out and as the blanket around her loosened, Penny’s arms shot up near her head, her tiny body arching as she stretched for a comically long period of time. Eddie chuckled, using it to his advantage, he slipped an arm behind her back and head with the other supporting her bottom as he picked her up, pressing a kiss to her head (and giving her hair a secret little sniff to get a whiff of that baby scent of hers).

“Did you sleep good, honey?” He cradled her in one arm, tucked close to his chest as he carried her out of the room to start on breakfast.

Penny obviously didn’t answer, head resting against his collarbone.

“Heard you woke up mom last night—well, early this morning, I guess—with boobie demands.”

Eddie pulled the fridge open, hovering in front of it as he debated on its contents before selecting the cartridge of eggs.

He didn’t want to put Penny down, happy to have her curled up in his arms, so a simple breakfast would have to do. A pan was pulled out, so was a little bit of cooking oil and soon Eddie was breaking the eggs out of the shell—angling his body to the side so Penny wasn’t at risk of possible oil splash back—and letting them cook.

“You like eggs?” Eddie asked, stepping a little ways from the stove as he hitched her higher on his chest and held the eggshells out for her to see.

She kicked her legs, a roll covered arm shakily reaching out towards the shells but Eddie kept them out of her reach.

“Uh-uh, no sticky fingers for you, young lady.”

The shells were tossed in the trash can but Penny didn’t care, twisting her upper so her chest was pressed to his. She gripped his shirt loosely in her chunky fist as she leaned forward and mouthed at his shoulder, effectively soaking the area with her drool before she began to suckle.

“Jesus, you act like we starve you.” Eddie chuckled, reaching for a recently washed pacifier to pop into her mouth.

She seemed to prefer it over his shirt, doing a full body sigh once she was suckling on it, with her need partially sated (eddie knew he had about fifteen minutes to wrap up breakfast before she realized nothing was coming from it and would start crying), Penny went back to cuddling into his chest.

She was starting to be a little more active—not sleeping as much as she did this time last month but for the most part, her movements were still unstable. She had good neck control (you’d had to pin Eddie down to keep him from picking her up when she’d immediately cry upon being put down for tummy time), she liked to kick her legs like she was about to take off for a marathon, but she still couldn’t quite hold things for long (unless it was hair or fingers) and had yet to roll over without you cheating and nudging her the rest of the way.

Speaking of making Penny do things…

Eddie lost to his intrusive thought, rearranging his hold on Penny so he was gently grasping her sides as he placed her feet on the counter. Immediately, she popped down to squat before shooting up again. And then she did it once more, getting comfortable with using her legs.

She didn’t even seem to wonder why Eddie was making her stand, she was more focused on staring intensely at her own feet.

Then Eddie made her jump, lifted her up and down and up and down, and when that got her smiling wide enough for her pacifier to fall out of her mouth, Eddie moved onto the cabinets.

“Go, baby, go!” He turned her on her side, miming the motions of her chunky legs running over the top cabinets like some baby ninja and laughing at how big her smile managed to keep getting, her big eyes squinting with it.

“What are you doing to my baby?” You asked as you emerged from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“She’s gonna be the next Karate Ki—hello.”

Eddie couldn’t help himself, dark gaze trailing over your figure as you stood there, hair a wreck, no pants, oversized t-shirt—ooh, and a leaking nipple.

Eddie’s favorite. Yum.

You followed his gaze, scoffing at the dark stain growing over your left boob, hand pressing against it to stop it as if you were applying pressure to a wound.

“It heard her,” You pouted, lip stuck out and wobbling at him as you referenced your body’s response to the sound of your baby. Crying, giggling, whimpering—didn’t matter, your milk ducts went into overdrive, aware that your baby was conscious and could need a feeding. Her baby noises were like a trigger sequence.

Eddie lifted Penny to his face, pressing fervent kisses into the chub of her cheeks, “Score for you, babe!”

You rolled your eyes, completely, utterly fond and smitten over the interaction. He briefly abandoned the kitchen to hand her to you after you’d made yourself comfortable on the couch, ready to fall to his knees in adoration.

You pulled the shirt over your breast, and despite trying to place your nipple in her mouth for her, Penny struggled to find it, mouthing greedily at your boob, her little head turning this way and that way but always missing the peak.

“Girl, it’s right there.” You laughed. Penny gave it like four more seconds of trying before her whimpers kicked in and you hurriedly managed to get her to latch, stopping the outburst.

And just like that, Penny was content, making satisfied little squeaks as she nursed and stared up at you, pretending like she hadn’t been moments away from screaming her lungs out.

And Eddie was distracted, solely focused on the two of you and how he wanted to roll around on the carpet because the cuteness aggression was almost unbearable. If this was how he would be spending every work-free morning for the rest of his life, he was ready to convert to being a morning person.

Especially if those big sparkly eyes and that gummy smile would be staring up at him. GOD-she was so stinking cute. He wanted to smother her in his affection, but she was growing annoyed with Eddie all up in her face and squishing the chub she was accumulating. She even cried if he faked chewed on her chunky cheeks for too long.

“What’s that smell?” You asked, snapping him out of his love stupor as you sniffed loudly.

“FUCK!” Eddie bolted back to the kitchen, smoke surrounding the pan and what had once been edible eggs, “Hey, honey, what’s your opinion on extra crispy eggs? You a risk taker?”

“The answer to that is hurting my nipple right now.”

“Valid. That was a very fun risk.”

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

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ddejavvu · 11 months

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jake with a shy!reader i feel like that man would be so down bad he’d be unrecognizable to his friends

Tailgating by the beach means sand in your hair (and everywhere else), a trash can full of beer bottles, and a whole lot of wipeouts. For most.

For you, it means Jake’s sweatshirt bunched up under your head like a pillow as your back rests against the metal grooves of his pickup’s bed. Your pinky is intertwined with the man’s own as you stargaze, avoiding the cloud of smoke billowing up from the bonfire.

“That one looks like an F-35.” He informs you, pointing at a constellation that is definitely not a fighter plane.

“I think that’s Draco.” You hum, “Not sure, though.”

Jake turns to you with a furrow in his brow, “That little shit from Harry Potter?”

“No!” You shriek, louder than you’re used to speaking. Jake has a way of making you forget your reservations, giving you the courage to speak up around him.

“It’s a constellation.” You quiet yourself, feeling Jake’s pinky tighten around yours. “I read that it was supposed to be in the sky tonight.”

“You read up on the stars?” Jake turns to you, propped on his side in the truck bed. It must be awful on his hips, but he does it anyways to gaze at your side profile.

You give him a front view, turning your head to stare back at him, “I didn’t do it on purpose, I just saw it on Instagram, I think. On someone’s story.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but neglects to return to stargazing. He’s yougazing now, his eyes tracing the curve from your chin to your cheek, then sloping down the bridge of your nose.

“Do you think-”

You’ll never know if you and Jake share thoughts on whatever matter is in his head, because a sudden thud against the mouth of the truck bed makes you startle, and Jake nearly breaks his neck sitting up to see who made the noise. You draw yourself upright but slower, more cautiously.

It’s one of his squadron members, you’ve seen the guy before in passing, but you don’t think he’s ever noticed you. He’s on the shorter side, and he’s quickly flanked by both Coyote and a taller, unknown counterpart.

“Hangman,” The short one snickers, “I was betting you were passed out somewhere with a bottle in your mouth, not schmoozing some poor woman in your truck.”

You’ve met Javy before, albeit briefly when you’d passed in the hallway of his and Jake’s shared apartment, and in the few terrifying seconds of confrontation your eyes stray over the man’s shoulder and meet Javy’s. He sends you a kind, sympathetic smile at the antics of his friend. You feel safe around him.

“What’s your name, honey?” The taller man leans over the side of the truck bed, a smirk on his face, “Last one was Brenda- no, Brianna.”

“Payback, that was months ago.” Javy snaps, and even though you know it’s true, Jake still looks guilty. He’d confessed in you that he wasn’t exactly a saint when it came to past relations, but all that mattered was the present for you; that you were the only one in it, and he’s stuck to that without a problem.

“I’m not schmoozing her, Fanboy.” Jake drawls, a vicious look in his eyes, “We were trying to have a private moment.”

Fanboy elbows Payback incredulously, shit-eating grins already on their faces, “Sex in a pickup! On the beach, in public. Jesus, man, there’s nothin’ you won’t do.”

“I won’t hesitate to break your nose if you don’t shut your mouth,” Jake seethes, and his free hand tenses into a fist even if he’s more bark than bite. Fanboy doesn't flinch, but Payback's smirk dims.

"Lay off, man." Coyote elbows Fanboy, "It's not like that."

"The only reason you've never met'er before is 'cause I knew you'd act like this," Jake scoffs, "Doesn't mean she's some cheap fling."

You desperately want to intervene, but you don't have the words to do it even if you tried. There's a thousand swirling in your brain, but there's a stopper in its drain to your mouth, a thick clog of panic.

"Well what is your name?" Payback repeats his question, more considerate this time. You're glad he seems to have dropped his bravado, even if you're not sure Fanboy has.

"Y/N," You manage to speak, glad that you know your own name well enough to utter it even when your brain doesn't cooperate. You don't say much else, though, and Javy fills in for your silence.

"She's Jake's girl," Javy smiles at you, happy to see his friend settling down, "She's not big on talking. Not to assholes like you, anyways."

"Well that's great," Fanboy's demeanor is much nicer when he's not goading his teammate, "'Cause Jake never shuts up. Sounds like a match made in heaven."

"I'm gonna send you to hell if you don't leave us alone," Jake glares pointedly at Fanboy in particular, but the expression is extended to Payback as well, "I wasn't kidding, we were having a conversation."

"That's our cue," Coyote informs the other two, who knew but weren't willing to give up their teasing leverage. He rings an arm each around their necks, bidding you a kind goodbye as he leads them away.

"Darlin'," Jake turns to you as soon as they're gone, like a guard dog that eases out of attack mode, "I'm so sorry. They don’t mean any harm, just- they seriously don't know when to quit, 'probably comes from bein' so aggressive in the air. I'm sorry they were so pushy."

"It's alright," You nod, "It's not your fault, Jake. I'm not angry, I just- I was a little embarrassed."

"I know," He hums sympathetically, leaning in to peck your lips, "I know baby. Listen, now they've met you, they'll probably back off. And if they don't, if you see 'em around somewhere and they try messin' with you, you let me know and I might accidentally fire on 'em in an exercise."

"I don't think you should murder your friends," You tamp down a smile at Jake's suggestion, because the last thing he needs is encouragement, "But I hope I don't see them when you're not around."

A hundred feet away, down on the smooth, wet sand of the shore, Coyote finally lets Payback and Fanboy go, shoving their heads down with the force of his grip around their necks.

"Ow, dude!" Fanboy gripes, but he deserves it the most, "If I'm gonna break my neck it's gonna be in the air, in some sick-ass stunt maneuver."

"Your sick ass needs to learn to shut up," Coyote scoffs, "He's serious about that girl, man! And I wouldn't be surprised if she was running for the hills now."

"C'mon, Coyote, we were just teasing," Payback pleads his case, but Coyote narrows his eyes.

"You can't tease her, not like that. Hell, the first time she ever came over I made a joke about wearing noise-cancelling headphones for them and she couldn't look me in the eye for weeks."

"The first time she came over," Payback's brow furrows, "He's been bringing her around your guys' place?"

"I told you he was serious," Coyote throws a glance back over to Jake's truck, where his hand is pointed in the air once more, "Know any other reason he'd be stargazing right now?"

Fanboy's face wrinkles in a confused grimace, "Stargazing? He's way too douchey for that."

"He's way too in love not to," Payback marvels, "Holy shit. That's- I can't process that, man, that's weird."

"Get used to it," Coyote takes a swig of his beer, "Y'know he's been lighting candles in our apartment for her? I mean, it's nice, 'cause it gets rid of his nasty laundry smell, but candles. Hangman, candles!"

Fanboy rears his head back, "What scent?"

"Lavender."

"Lavender?"

"I know!"

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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asbealthgn · 1 year

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(i am not immune to peer pressure so here's a continuation. part one here)

It’s so rare that Steve meets anyone nice anymore.

It’s just hard to find people. Dating apps suck, and ever since Robin and Nancy got together, they hardly ever want to go to bars together. And what’s he supposed to do, just drink alone and hope he stumbles across someone?

Well, that’s exactly what happened today, sans drinking. He was heading for the bus stop, a tiny bit lost but he had a map and was pretty sure he could figure it out. He realizes he’s a tiny bit directionally challenged, and he’s still relatively new in town, and Robin and Nancy just moved to a new place, so it all came together to mean that getting there would take some puzzling out. All the same, he was prepared to figure it out on his own right up until he saw the super hot guy sitting at the bus stop and figured a little help couldn’t hurt.

And that’s how Steve ended up with an unexpected date (sort of) to Robin and Nancy’s baby shower (not a real baby shower).

Robin answers the door and smiles, then does a double take when she sees Eddie. Whoops, Steve probably should have texted her that he was bringing someone. He’d gotten a little caught up in the moment.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind I brought a plus one,” Steve says, hugging her before walking inside. Eddie follows him.

“No, no, that’s fine,” Robin says, voice a little strange as they take their shoes off and she shuts the door. “We’re all in the living room.”

They follow her through the kitchen and into the living room where half a dozen calico kittens and several adults are on the floor.

“Oh my God, they’re adorable,” Eddie says, leaving Steve’s side to get down next to the kittens. Steve gets a huge smile watching him. Fuck, he’s super hot and he’s now holding a tiny kitten, cooing at it? Steve might just get on one knee right now. Or both knees. Honestly, either one works.

If he were paying more attention to literally anything other than Eddie, Steve would notice that nearly everyone else in the room is also staring at Eddie. The only exception to that is El, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with the mama cat in her lap, both watching the kittens with the same wide-eyed intensity.

There’s a tap on Steve’s shoulder, and he turns to look at Robin. “Can we talk for a sec?” she asks, voice still odd.

“Yeah,” he says and follows her back into the kitchen.

She crosses her arms and leans back against the counter. “So are you gonna tell me what Eddie Munson is doing in our living room?”

“Oh, have you already met him?” Steve asks.

Her eyes widen. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Steve, that’s Eddie Munson,” she says, “From Corroded Coffin?”

“From what?” he asks, though as she says, it does sound a tiny bit familiar.

“Corroded Coffin?” she says, “It’s that band the kids love. Along with like half of America if they’re not completely scandalized by them.”

“So what, you’re trying to tell me Eddie’s famous?” Steve asks. Robin nods. “Hold on, this isn’t like Paul all over again, is it?” Paul was a guy Steve briefly dated a few years ago, and Robin had somehow convinced Steve that he was an Olympic athlete. In his defense, she had mocked up some seriously convincing news articles.

But Robin is shaking her head. “No, I’m serious this time,” she says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. After a second she turns it around to show him the Google results for Eddie Munson. There are a lot of red carpets and pictures of him onstage. And damn, Eddie seriously is so hot.

“Alright, well, you definitely didn’t have time to photoshop these,” Steve mutters. Robin nods, patting him on the shoulder. How did he accidentally bring a famous guy over?

Just then, Eddie comes into the kitchen, a kitten in his hands.

“Stevie, look at her,” he says, holding the kitten up.

Stevie? Robin mouths. Steve kicks her as he reaches out to scratch under the kitten’s chin. It mews at him.

“I asked Nancy—she’s terrifying, by the way,” Eddie adds to Robin, “And she said I can keep her.” He lifts the kitten to his face and it purrs as it rubs its cheek against Eddie’s. Steve is actually going to combust.

“Alright, well, I’m heading back in,” Robin says, voice back to that strained quality as she escapes the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, too busy whispering praise to the kitten.

Steve scratches under its chin again and it purrs at him. “What’re you gonna name her?” he asks.

“Don’t know yet,” Eddie says, “Isn’t she per—oh, hold on.” His phone is ringing, so he moves the kitten to one hand as he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. “Hey Gar….Yeah, ‘cause you abandoned me….No, I’m in Japantown getting a kitten….No, that’s not a euphemism….Listen, I’m kinda busy, I’ll call you later, alright?…Yeah, see you, man.”

While he was talking, the kitten clawed its way up Eddie’s shirt and into his hair. “What’re you doing in there, sweet girl?” he asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching for the kitten. It’s gotten very tangled in his curls, though, and apparently really likes being there.

“Lemme help you,” Steve says, stepping closer to Eddie and extricating the kitten. Eddie’s hair is very soft. Good to know. “Here you go,” he says, holding the kitten out for him.

“One sec,” Eddie says. He ties his hair up quickly (also hot, fuck) before taking the kitten back. He boops noses with it. “Such a mischievous little girl.”

“Well, can you blame her?” Steve asks. He brushes a loose curl behind Eddie’s ear. “Your hair seems like a nice place to be.”

Eddie smiles at him, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I’ll be honest, Stevie,” he says, voice getting a little lower as he moves closer, boxing Steve against the counter. “At first I just came along because you’re gorgeous, but I think I’ve fallen in love.” He holds up the kitten in one hand.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Steve asks, feeling his face heat.

“‘Course I do, big boy,” Eddie says, leaning closer and putting his free hand on the counter by Steve’s hip.

Maybe this is stupid and way too forward, but Eddie is so dreamy with his eyes and his dimple and his hair and the kitten in his hand, so Steve leans in and kisses him. It’s a little relieving when Eddie kisses him back, free hand lifting to his hair while Steve wraps his arms around his waist.

Steve doesn’t notice the front door opening or a new group of people that includes Dustin Henderson coming inside. He doesn’t notice them entering the kitchen and freezing as they take in the scene.

That is, not until Dustin shouts, “Holy shit, is that Eddie Munson?”

tagging a few people who asked for a continuation/asked to be tagged (sorry if i missed anyone!): @nburkhardt @stargyles @csinnamon-fox @manda-panda-monium @silly-jellyghoty @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @starquirk

edit to add that this ficlet is complete and the last part is here

#gareth after finally coming to pick up eddie: oh my god that wasn't a euphemism??#meanwhile eddie is just sitting there grinning like an idiot holding a kitten in one hand and steve's hand in the other #okay also everyone's tags on the last one were amazing #i wish i could have stolen all of your ideas but they did not all fit together #unfortunately #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 9 months

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The askbox is open and I am here to bring the angst baybee!

How would the tweels, Leona, Maleus, and Idia try to approach their crush who is absolutely terrified of them? It’s not to the point that they’ll flee on sight but they get notably tense and fidgety and try to keep their distance.

Tysm and have a great day ☺️

Floyd Leech:

Floyd thinks it’s very funny, and you’d be wrong if you thought he might make himself less intimidating to be around. He decided to give you some exposure therapy, invading your space, suddenly popping up and actually scaring the hell out of you. When he starts just acting like a normal person and approaching you properly, after a great deal of time of him not actually bullying you or doing anything that his reputation might imply he’d do, you find his presence doesn’t bother you as much. As long as he doesn’t jump you from around a corner again, you could talk to him while being at ease.

Idia Shroud:

Idia gets it. Whether it’s the flame hair or the pointy teeth, he gets it. Does it still hurt him deeply to know the person he’s very much head over heels for is terrified of him? Of course, he wasn’t the type to put himself in these situations and yet one managed to find him anyway. He doesn’t know how to appear less intimidating to you other than only speaking to you through messages, so you can tell just how non-threatening towards you that he is. He’ll even wear a mask when he comes up to speak to hide his pointed smile if it sets you more at ease.

Jade Leech:

Jade finds it very interesting. He knew his reputation preceded him but he couldn’t help that, he never meant any harm to you, though. He’s very persistent in your interactions, always gentle, always with an easy smile on his face, promising that he really did enjoy spending his time with you. He briefly lets you see a more vulnerable side to him, either by talking about his love for his brothers happiness or ranting about the many cool mushrooms and the meanings behind their colors. Seeing that side of him, knowing he’s just a person with his own hobbies and worries.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona noticed immediately, it would be very unlike a carnivore not to notice a little herbivore shaking in their boots when he approached. But the fact you didn’t run from him had certainly sparked his interest, and he couldn’t help himself from enjoying your company. He would never lower his head to anyone but he would be more careful with how he approached you, speaking with a different tone and carefully selected words that still get his point across but without making you feel like you’re under attack.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus is so incredibly used to that reaction he almost didn’t notice it at first, but the moment he did, it cut deep. To know the person he cared about was shaking in their boots just from him approaching, when he had never done anything (that he knew of) to intimidate them… It left him feeling a little clueless on how to solve the situation, as there was no way to remove his horns or shorten his stature; he would simply have to let you know that there was nothing to fear from him. He not only adored you but he enjoyed your company, and he was hoping to spend more time alone with you when you had the opportunity. He wants you to let him know what he can do to make you more comfortable around him, so he sparked a direct conversation rather than just letting it be.

#Twisted Wonderland #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Disney TWST #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #FLoyd Leech #Jade Leech #Idia Shroud #Leona Kingscholar #Malleus Draconia #Floyd Leech x Reader #Jade Leech x Reader #Idia Shroud x Reader #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader

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minty364 · 3 months

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DPXDC Prompt #128 part 3

Danny walked into the room behind Batman to find his soulmate sitting on the couch. He had a first aid kit on the table in front of him but it wasn’t open and Jason seemed to just be resting for the moment. Well until he started speaking.

“Take off the helmet, I’ve already seen my own damn face and it’ll make this fucking conversation that much easier.” Danny shuffled his feet for a moment before doing what he said and taking the helmet off.

Setting it down on the table he sat down next to Jason and held out his hand. Skin contact was how you and your soulmate got back in their own bodies. Jason didn’t take it though.

“Hold on, I was serious about those questions, can I guarantee you won’t bolt the second you’re in your own body?”

Danny kind of chucked, it was a hollow half hearted kind of noise. “You and I both know what kind of state I’m in right now, I'd have better luck staying in your body.”

Jason seemed to think it over for a moment before shrugging and taking Danny’s hand. A brilliant light and he was back in his own body, he was in much more pain than he remembered.

Danny grimaced as he got into a more comfortable position, “I’d like to start with… an apology.” Danny was choosing his words carefully. He stopped to think for a moment before continuing, “I haven’t had the best experiences with circuses or clowns in the past,” the room and the com remained silent. “When I saw the Joker in front of me, I was terrified, my fists couldn’t help tensing… I swear I didn’t know I was holding guns until they went off.” Danny could feel himself start to babble a little bit.

His soulmate held up his hands, “so, if what you're telling me is correct the bastard clown is dead?”

Danny nodded hesitantly, after his babbling to Red Hood he was unable to say anything else.

Jason continued, “alright, we can deal with that later. What Id like to focus on now,” he leaned in and gave Danny a harsh look that made him shrink in his seat a little, “what the fuck happened to you before the switch, gotta tell you, not a fan of whatever all that was.” He made a big hand motion gesturing all around him.

Another pause Danny didn’t know what to say, of course that didn’t slide with Jason.

“Speak up, I don’t even know your name and you already know my identity.” Jason narrowed his eyes at Danny.

He was right of course so Danny gathered a little bit of courage, “I’m Danny,” when Jason didn’t respond he let his gaze fall onto the floor and tightened his fists before continuing, “I honestly don’t know where to begin, I’m willing to tell you but could we maybe do it alone?”

He took the communications device out of his ear and switched it off. Jason nodded and reached over to turn the com off his helmet. The only one left in the room was Batman and after a few moments of them staring back and forth at each other Jason spoke,

“He’s MY soulmate and not you or anyone else needs to hear this. It’s his business, if he decides to let you know what up we’ll let you but leave old man.” Jason’s words were stern and harsh but it eventually got the point across. Danny wondered briefly about how close he was with Batman considering how familiar he seemed to be speaking with him. Batman left after a few minutes and the two were left alone on the couch sitting across from each other.

Danny took a moment to breath l but before he could begin Jason held up a hand, “hold on, let’s get your wounds properly looked at while you're talking. I won’t take no for an answer.” Danny sighed and mulled it over for a second but then relented and took his shirt off. It wasn’t pretty and the rags he wrapped around himself as a faux gauze wouldn’t hold in the long run. Jason seemed to stare at it for a moment before moving to open the first aid kit. Danny started talking after the shirt was off.

“I might as well rip off the bandaid so to say, I’ve been on the run from a government run agency. I’m…” he paused after he noticed how still the other seemed to get after the rags were completely gone. A large angry Y shape was across his chest, an everlasting reminder of the awful things that happened during his stay at the GIW facility. His soulmate's eyes flashed green and he looked away, seeming like he was trying to control his anger. There was a pause in the air, the kind of awkward moment where it just feels like bad luck to break.

“…What government organization?” Jason said after regaining his composure.

“They’re called the GIW or Ghost Investigation Ward, long story short there exists a law. If something produces the substance called ectoplasm, the life blood of ghosts, they are considered non sentient. They mistook me for a ghost.” Danny decided to go for half truths, with everything that happened he thought he probably shouldn’t tell his soulmate exactly everything.

“And the belt?” Oh, that was one question he was hoping to avoid.

“Ah, sorry if you got shocked, it’s set to shock me when I touch it, guess they wanted a way to subdue me if needed.” Danny joked, he knew he was thin and he was still a little short. He didn’t grow that much after the accident, he wondered how much taller he could have gotten if given the chance.

I’ll have these parts sectioned out a little better if I start posting on AO3. This talk will continue in part 4

Master Post:

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #poor danny #tw vivisection #Jason isn’t happy right now #The more Danny talks the more Jason wants to burn the GIW down #Writing is hard LMAO #I swear I’m trying my best though #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use

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kathaynesart · 5 months

Note

Hey you got anything in your au you want to talk about but no one has asked about?? (Or a au you have not written) (or a head cannon you want to mention)

Haha I always do! Hm, let’s talk briefly about this specific moment with Leo from the recent Interview:

Only a few people have privately messaged me about this line and I feel that it is very important to address for Leo’s character arc.

LEO TED TALK TIME:

Even though Agent Bishop might have been the one to plant the seed, it grew into a weight that Leo would continue to carry long after the man’s passing. It would become the unfinished mission that would haunt him for the rest of his adult life:

“Find the Key, stop the Krang.”

Maybe once years ago there had been a plan on how to achieve this, but by the time this mission is passed on to Casey it has become little more than a desperate mantra reignited by the flames of hope. Frankly it sounds absurd in its simplicity as Leo easily sketches out the image that has endlessly haunted him and instructs Junior to achieve the impossible.

When Casey objects Leo grabs him, frantic, almost breaking. He’s the most distraught we’ve ever seen him in this moment, ordering Casey to simply say it back to him, as if terrified that it might be forgotten.

It is not until Casey repeats the well tread mantra that Leo finally calms. The torch has been passed and some of that weight has finally been lifted off his shoulders. He seems almost serene after that as he reassures Casey. A stark contrast to the terror that had filled him moments ago.

He trusts Casey Junior completely and he knows that the boy does not need his help to succeed where he has failed all his life.

I feel like Leo has come such a long way by this point in his story, but if there's still one thorn left in his side it's this one, and it really shows. At least, that's my interpretation. It's really interesting seeing these little moments from the movie and figuring out what details and hidden nuance can be gleaned from these brief, but powerful interactions.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#rottmnt #rottmnt replica #replica #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #future leo #casey junior #kathaynesart

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flowerfan2 · 1 year

Text

Steve doesn’t talk about his nightmares. He assumes they all get them, it’s clearly just something you have to accept after going through the shit that they’ve gone through. He deals with it, like he deals with everything.

One night he wakes from a nightmare and there’s someone in his room, and he’s frozen and he’s terrified and he can’t reach his bat. He feels like his chest is about to explode until a second later when the figure moves in front of the window, hands held up in front of him and eyes wide with concern.

“Eddie,” Steve says, his voice scraping out of his body. “What – what are you doing here?”

Eddie cocks his head. “Many, many vodka shots, couldn’t drive home, crashed on your couch, etc. etc. You don’t remember?”

Steve does, now, the sound of Eddie’s voice bringing reality back, and he nods. “Yeah, uh, so many vodka shots. But…?” he trails off, gesturing to his bedroom.

“I heard you.” Eddie shrugs, then climbs onto the bed like it’s no big deal, shoving aside the messy blankets and sitting cross-legged next to Steve. For a moment he’s backlit by the light outside, his curls a frizzy halo. “Nightmares suck. You okay?”

Steve sucks in a long breath and pushes his sweaty hair out of his face with a shaking hand. “Uh, sure.” Eddie doesn’t look convinced. He heard him. “What, um, what did I say?”

Because sometimes the dreams are about things that actually happened, like him and his friends being attacked by monsters, and sometimes they’re about things that didn’t actually happen but almost did, like Eddie and Max dying. Sometimes they’re about brand-new horrors that he hasn’t even experienced yet. His mind is impressive that way.

“You just screamed a lot.” Eddie holds his gaze, and Steve feels sick to his stomach. Probably explains why he wakes up with his throat hurting so often. Benefits of an empty house.

Eddie shifts, all limbs, and lays down on his side, head propped on one hand. Steve’s plaid comforter is pushed down by his feet, and Eddie tucks his bare toes underneath it. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

Steve fights the urge to bury his face in his pillow. “I can’t.”

Eddie accepts this and rolls to his back, hands clasped over his chest briefly until they start waving around as he speaks. “I get nightmares all the time. Always have. Used to be they were about regular little kid stuff, then all the normal high school shit – showing up somewhere without your clothes on, whatever. Wayne was always real nice about it, didn’t make me feel embarrassed, just kind of sat with me or brought me water, you know.” Eddie glances over to Steve’s bedside table where there’s already a glass of water, and he meets Steve’s eyes.

“No, I’m good,” Steve says, with a little snort. “Do you, um, have different nightmares now?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Eddie says, turning back on his side to fully face Steve. “I keep thinking they’ll be great material for song lyrics, or campaigns, once they stop scaring the living daylights out of me. Worst ones are where I’m getting bitten over and over by those god damned demobats, man. Fucking sharp-ass teeth, ripping me apart. Hurts like hell, can’t believe how much it hurts. And that thing where you wake up and still feel it, right, like the pain is real for a minute even though it’s just a dream? Like a pain-echo? God, I hate that.”

“Me too,” Steve says, and he takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “It’s like that for me, too. Really scary.” He stretches, feeling some of the tension leave his body, and relaxes down into his pillow. He no longer feels like he’s on a rollercoaster without a safety bar. He’s not alone. “Thanks.”

Eddie studies him, then reaches down and tugs on the sheet, eventually getting part of it untangled, and pulls it up over Steve’s legs.

Steve knows what’s going to happen next, but he suddenly can’t let it. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches over and touches his hand to where Eddie’s lies between them on the bed. “Would you stay?”

His heart is beating hard in his chest for a reason having nothing at all to do with nightmares, when Eddie twines his fingers together with Steve’s and nods, a shy smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah.”

#Steddie #Steddie fic #Steddie ficlet #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fic #Stranger Things ficlet #Steve x Eddie

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arctrooper69 · 1 month

Text

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 12:

Previous // Next

Warnings: None

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This is already so much harder than Cid made it seem, you thought with a grunt as hills of gravelly rock slipped and slid beneath your feet.

The moon's perpetual dusky atmosphere made it nearly impossible to navigate the rough terrain without a headlamp.

And it's just my luck that this one is almost dead. The lamp flickered briefly but remained lit for the time being. At the rate you'd been replacing power packs on this thing, you weren't sure there'd be enough to last the journey back to the ship. The moon’s naturally emitted electromagnetic frequencies were not something Cid had mentioned.

No surprise there. Wonder what else she failed to mention.

You were glad Hunter wasn't here. This would be the death of him. You couldn't imagine the havoc it would wreak upon his enhanced senses - the pain it would cause him. Yet the sour taste of loneliness still faintly lingered, littering the background of all your thoughts.

A faint rumbling sound echoed across the rocky plain and you paused, listening. The strange, muted grumble became louder like the moon itself was warning you to leave and never come back.

Rocks began to quake as the ground rolled in a violent tremor.

“Well, that’s just wonderful…” you growled sarcastically. “Thanks for that!” you yelled out to no one, voice echoing strangely through the barren atmosphere.

The tremors subsided after a few minutes, though you waited a few more before starting out again.

You paused after a while, double checking the coordinates on your datapad. The screen flickered. It was a small inconvenience, yet one that landed precariously atop of so many others, drawing all the ire of pent up rage and hurt into one soul crushing cry of frustration that you’d been keeping down for so long.

“I hate this kriffing moon!”

You stopped, taking a few deep breaths.

Calm. Calm. You have a job to do.

The datapad screen blinked back on as you smacked the side of it with your hand.

Should be right around…. There.

The dimming light of the headlamp softly illuminated the entrance to a mine just ahead.

Here goes nothing.

You sighed, placing your bag on the ground before pulling out the necessary gear.

Grabbing the cable, you began to lower yourself down the dark, damp mineshaft. Without warning, another tremor rocked the ground again.

Stronger than the last, you noted, hoping that didn’t mean anything.

Another small quake sent a shower of dust and pebbles cascading down onto your face and hair. One arm let go of the cable, instinctively curling upwards to protect your face while the other held on with aching fingers, fighting how it swung wildly and out of control.

As if the vengeful moon had heard your angry cries, another rumble of the ground tore the cable from it’s resting place, pulling a terrified shriek from gasping lungs as you found yourself in a freefall, desperately clawing at the wall for any kind of stop.

Pain shot up through your shoulder as gloved fingers caught the edge of a protruding rock, dragging yourself to a more steady position, jamming your feet into crevasses in the wall.

Karking hells! You closed your eyes and let your head drop forwards to rest on the cool rock face where you clung, taking a moment to calm your screaming nerves.

You exhaled in disbelief, unsure of whether you should cry or laugh.

“Oh gods, this is not my day. This is really not my day.”

Whining to yourself, you looked down and realized you were nearly at the bottom.

Taking another breath, you pulled the cable from your belt and hooked it securely once again to the rock face, quickly gliding down the remainder of the mineshaft.

Damn. Absentmindedly stretching your sore shoulder, you crouched to place the pack onto the ground, hissing quietly as the action sent a shooting pain down your arm. You switched the headlamp off and waited for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. A dim light glimmered from a cavity in the wall on the other side of a small pool of bubbling water. They matched the description Cid provided on the jewels she’d tasked you with retrieving.

“Oh how convenient,” you scoffed, carefully scanning the area lest you be swallowed alive by some carnivorous rock or whatever else thrived in this hellhole of a moon. You chuckled dryly. That would be just my luck.

With trepidation, you stepped carefully over the small pool of water. Grabbing the small extraction tool you’d brought along, you sank down to your knees and began drilling at the glowing stones, counting each one as they popped free.

One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six…

You stood back up, carefully placing the stones inside one of the many pouches that lined your belt, and turned around to head back. A wave of sudden exhaustion pulled a sigh from your lips as it washed over you. This place was definitely not one you’d be coming back to in a hurry.

Pausing before the bubbling pool of water, you took one last look around, but your gaze was drawn right back to the pool in front of you.

Weird. A strange feeling of unease crept into your bones and you shivered. Could’ve sworn it wasn’t that big when I stepped over it before. You shrugged, certain that your mind was only playing tricks on you because when you looked once more, it was the same size as it had been before.

“This place gives me the creeps,” you muttered, looking around suspiciously. You glared at the bubbling pool and took a running leap over it just to be safe.

It was almost as if someone had pulled a rug out from beneath your feet. The edge of the pool caught on the tip of your boot and you came crashing down, a cry of alarm turning into a cry of pain as your shoulder roughly met the ground. You scrambled forward with a gasp, pulling your foot from the water.

“Did you just….” you spoke aloud, voice saturated with an incredulous annoyance, “Did you just trip me!?”

The ground rumbled lowly once again.

“Great! I’m arguing with a kriffing moon,” you muttered, shaking your head.

You sighed, four days of solitude and you were already talking to inanimate objects.

Your boot squelched as you dumped out the water that filled it. I hate wet socks. You wiggled your toes glumly.

Wrecker would find this hilarious, you chuckled to yourself. What would the rest of them think of this place?

You smiled, thinking of how Tech would be cataloging each tremor and tectonic abnormality, looking at everything through that endearing lens of curiosity. Echo would be working on a way to combat the harsh electromagnetic frequencies for himself and Hunter. His steadfast attitude wouldn’t let himself give up until he tried every option. Omega would wander, collecting oddly shaped rocks and staring into the strange bubbling pools. And Hunter…

You sighed, picking yourself back up, best not to think about Hunter. But you couldn’t help it. Loneliness settled into your gut, you missed them.

No. You scolded yourself. You’re a grown adult. You have made it in this galaxy on your own before and you will do so again.

But being on your own was a lot different than being alone.

You took a deep breath, willing that forever-heavy emotion back behind the locked doors of practical reality. It wasn’t worth dwelling on thoughts that only brought you down, and it took skill to lock them all away so efficiently - a skill you knew you’d better relearn fast.

Unwilling to stay and reflect any longer, you shot the cable up and climbed out of the mine.

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If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

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hispg · 7 months

Text

Safe haven

Pairings: Leon x Reader

Wc:4.0k

Summary: How Leon deals with his ptsd over the years.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, depressive thoughts, suicidal intent, Leon hating himself.

An: This one follows the cannon order, so it starts with r2 Leon, r4, r6, vendetta, ends with Death Island.

Denial

Since Leon returned from Raccoon City, nothing has been the same. You've seen the man you knew die day after day, his personality changing like water to wine. And he knew it, he knew it better than anyone.

You still remember perfectly when he arrived, covered in blood, with a bandage on his arm, a face with the most terrified expression you could imagine.

The horrors he had witnessed in that place were simply out of this world. What should have been a simple first day at work turned into a living hell. There were things he wouldn't erase from his memory, the way he had to kill all his co-workers, the way he saw everyone around him die. He felt bad, guilty, even though he had no control over it.

It was a lot for one person, a lot for him to process.

A night that would mark him for the rest of his life.

In order not to involve you too much in the subject, he never went into too much detail, just briefly saying something or other. But you could imagine, the way his fear was clear on his face, his lips trembling every time he tried to talk to you about what had happened.

You saw the way he woke up every night, covered in a layer of sweat, whimpering and almost screaming in his room. He never slept properly, always woke up in a state of sheer panic, and it only got worse as time went on. It wasn't something he could control, not even he himself could believe that he had come out of that nightmare alive.

And he often wished he hadn't.

All he forced himself to believe was that it would be something momentary, an event that he would forget or at least get better with the passage of time.

But it didn't.

He beat himself up every day, unable to forget a single second of that night. He could have helped more, he could have done more, maybe he could have saved more people.

Deep down, he knew it was impossible. A simple situation where a hundred were sacrificed to save one.

There were days when he couldn't even leave the house, and he also begged you to stay with him. A panic attack that haunted him almost daily, he needed you to be there. At least he knew you would be safe by his side, and he needed you, as if you were the air he breathed.

All this was due to the fact that he couldn't cope on his own, if you didn't sleep next to him every night, he wouldn't even try to close his eyes. Because he knew he wouldn't be able to doze off for a single moment, not that he'd ever get a good night's sleep.

He often refused, refused to believe that it was real, refused to believe that it had ever happened. But every time he closed his eyes and heard the screams of agony echoing in his head, he remembered the painful reality.

It was almost customary for him to try to recover from everything he had experienced, to lift his face, wipe away the tears and force an expression from someone who was fine.

But you and he knew it was just a lie.

Everything took a turn for the worse when he was interrogated and basically forced to work for the government. It was a 'deal', he would work for the government in exchange for the little girl safety, a little girl called Sherry, who he found and saved in the middle of the chaos that night.

Although he didn't want to, he didn't think it was fair to let a girl as young as her suffer in a laboratory, maybe it was crazy to compromise his life for someone he barely knew. But that was him, the guy who put others before himself. So he accepted the 'agreement'.

He just wanted to be someone normal, to forget about that damn trauma, to forget about the pain of that night and to put all those events behind him.

But he couldn't, and maybe he wasn't ready for that fact.

The Leon of before no longer existed, maybe a small sketch left, but he would never be able to get back on his feet and be like before.

Never.

Anger

Leon's life began to turn upside down even more, after the hell that happened in Raccoon City, he was forced to go to military training, supposedly to serve the government. Even years after what happened, the night was still incredibly vivid in his mind. Every detail was stagnant in his memory, a mark he couldn't remove.

All he felt now was anger, all hidden in that sullen face that had become his usual expression. He hid behind it, hoping you wouldn't notice how cold and indifferent he was becoming. It was the only way to protect himself that he found.

And he hated that things were this way.

What he didn't expect was that he would become an agent working for the President. Everything that had already happened to him was enough, and he still seemed to be getting worse and worse.

Like a bottomless pit, he just fell lower and lower.

At this point he no longer cared about much, he was becoming more and more stressed with work and that damn training.

You lost count of how many times he came home scratched, bruised, with some part of his body purple. One time he even arrived with a broken rib, and he didn't even try to explain to you what had happened.

He just did his bandages silently, with your help. And he didn't even say a single word about it, and you worried like crazy. You didn't even know if he would arrive in one piece the next day.

It wasn't difficult to assimilate all the abuse he was suffering in that place, you had already heard a few times the way some of his training partners spoke to him on the phone. They weren't friendly at all.

All he did was hide what he felt with that sulky face, more and more you saw him becoming closed off. It was rare that he talked about his training, or his day.

Even he had become increasingly discreet about his nightmares, or even his anxiety attacks. He always thought he could handle it on his own, it was his problem. That he had learned to cope, or at least he thought he had.

Because it was the same story as always. Just a man doing what he hated, reliving the past and charting a hateful future.

And that couldn't be avoided.

And well, nothing got better when he was called to a mission in Spain, looking for the President's daughter. He didn't feel excited about the situation at all, he didn't even want to go. However, there wasn't much of an option.

He tried to warn you, in fact he didn't warn you, he just said he was going to Spain, just like that.

It wasn't hard to imagine that this caused a small fight between you, since he could at least tell you what it was about. But he didn't say.

"Don't pressure me, don't even try to look into things that's not your business." Leon hisses at you, turning his back and leaving you behind with tears in your eyes. All you heard after was the door slamming, and he disappeared for a few days.

Surely he knew the shit he had done, and every moment that passed he felt his heart tighten. His anxiety reaching its worst peaks. As he began to understand what was happening in that old village, he felt terror wash over him once again. The fear of not being able to return terrified him, he doesn't even know how he managed to stay upright in the face of all that.

He felt trapped in a nightmare again.

Another hell, he didn't even know that he would go through a situation similar to Raccoon City again, but to his displeasure it happened. Once again he doesn't know how he came out alive, he was terrified of witnessing death several times in a row. The only thing he thought about was going home, he needed a place to call home. And he needed you, in a way he couldn't put into words. So many words he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do, especially seeing more people around him die. After having done everything he did to survive.

He needed someone.

Everything he had planned to tell you went down the drain as soon as he got home, the first thing he saw was you lying on the sofa, wearing one of his shirts.

It didn't take long for him to take off his boots, and walk towards you, he was shabby, a complete mess. It was no surprise.

He gently gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek, so as not to wake you, and sat down on the floor next to you. He intended to spend the night there, as he certainly wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how hard he tried.

With his fists clenched, his face set, a strange feeling running through his body. Once again he felt like it was a tantrum, but it wasn't.

A single tear wet his cheeks, followed by several others.

And then he realized, the reality of the facts caught up with him.

And the terrifying feeling returned.

Understanding

A few more painful years passed, and it was indeed optimistic to say that things had improved. It was as if everything was exhausting, he couldn't have fun with the things he liked.

As if his life was in a loop where he couldn't stop, he couldn't get out of it. It just kept going again and again, it shouldn't be like this.

But was.

It wasn't hard to notice how grumpy he had become. He was no longer someone of many words, and now he was even more closed off. If it was possible.

The grown beard that only showed how disinterested he was in his own appearance. He was at a point where he barely looked at himself in the mirror, his dark blond strands falling down his face. And he didn't even bother to trim his hair and leave it the way he liked it.

He didn't even look in the mirror, he hated every time he saw his own reflection. He learned to hate every one of his scars, every mark that remained from his missions, he hated with all of his heart. It was an otherworldly aversion, he shouldn't feel this way about himself, but that didn't matter. Not now.

He learned to hate himself.

He hated the way that even after all these years his traumas still haunted him, the way he still had those terrible nightmares. He hated the way he treated you, so cold and distant.

So different from what he once was.

Since it all started in Raccoon City, he always knew that the part of the soul he lost there he would never recover. But he didn't imagine things would be this bad.

It was as if no moment was good, as if everything revolved around his work and the problems that came with it. He became such a focused person that he would sometimes go days without showering, with his hair all messy and his face completely tired. From someone who hadn't had rest in days. And that person was exactly him.

He would often make minimal effort to talk to you, try to start a conversation and tell you how his day was going. But who said he could? The poor man got so used to keeping things to himself that sharing it was complicated.

The words tumbled in his mouth, he couldn't form a sentence that made any sense and didn't sound desperate. But he failed as soon as he said the first word, and just ended up changing the subject.

Therefore, he learned that nothing would be the same as before, even after all these years in which he hoped that things would change, for the better. But to his chagrin this didn't happen, and everything went downhill.

He tried his best to come to terms with all of this, since he was already someone who had seen a lot, and had already done a lot as well. But that didn't stop him from feeling bad, from feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

And it wasn't?

At that point he ignored what he felt, if he was called to a mission he would simply go, even though he was extremely upset about the matter. Because in those moments he realized that he was just an object of the government.

A powerful weapon that was capable of stopping the crap that happened here or there, and that was it. Just it.

Nothing more than a weapon.

What else could he expect? The turn things took only made the government's intentions clear, and he didn't approve at all. He was always against it, but who said he was listened to?

He had already accepted this, a cruel fate from which he had little option of escaping. He had already dealt with it.

He forced himself to believe those words.

All he could do was hate himself more and more, every time he came home tired and saw you, his heart broke.

How did he still have you by his side? How the hell was such a sweet person still willing to stay by his side. It wasn't fair.

He deserved to be alone.

Day after day he found himself looking for things to get rid of the bitterness that his life had become, what he found was drinking.

One of the few things that let him breathe, even if just for a few hours. It started slowly, but he needed to increase it.

It was an obligation, it was either that or get home and feel like the worst person in the world. This addiction started slowly, in a subtle way.

However, it then got out of control, and once again he found himself in his worst state.

"There's no turning back.." A whisper coming from him, drunk and completely out of his mind.

His life was a dead end, and he had no hope that it would get better.

Another day of remorse, another day living in his shoes.

Depression

The only consolation he found now was drinking, at least it helped the pain go away for a moment. Even though at some point he had to increase the doses more and more, he needed it to take effect.

If at any point he had tried to have some closeness with you back, that had ended in the last few months. He couldn't even take care of himself, let alone take care of you.

He was a different man, and not in a good way.

At that point he already accepted that he had lost himself, that he no longer had salvation, his mind was torturing him.

It was suffering just to be alive.

The fact that he always lost people around him, that he had to kill his own team because he wasn't able to save them. How the hell was he supposed to survive with this? How could he say everything was fine?

Everything around him was dying, like he had a curse around him or something. Not even he wanted to understand this. The weight of the years he lived in this torture was catching up to him.

And nothing could be done, once again.

The nightmares, the weight on his conscience, the memory of each of the missions. It was an unhealthy cycle he was trapped in.

Certainly an addiction wouldn't solve the situation, but what would? Pay nicely as always? Hold his head up and follow orders like a puppy?

"Piece of shit." That's what he mutters when he sees himself in the reflection of his cell phone, disappointed with the way everything is happening. How he was dealing with all of this. His appearance was different, hair more swept to the side, a longer beard. Clothes that not even he knew he would wear at some point.

But what would be the other way? How?

Disappointment, anger, depression, all mixed up in his head. He didn't know what he should do with these bottled up feelings that were haunting him day after day.

All the missions, all the people he lost, everything he experienced. How could someone go through so much like that?

How could he have gone through this and still somehow moved on?

This time he didn't even bother trying to hide from you the displeasure he had created for life, he rarely spent time at home, and when he did it was all day grumbling or drinking.

A great guilt invaded him when you cried because nothing you tried to do seemed to help, but this wasn't about you.

It was about him.

His mood only worsened when Chris called him to another mission, actually it wasn't really a call, more like a statement that he was going to another mission.

This was his life for the last few years, mission after mission, without even a moment for himself, not that he was going to do anything other than drink in the meantime.

What could have happened special this time? Another mission where he comes close to death several times, where he simply doesn't know if he'll return home in one piece. And he could swear he didn't care about it or not.

At least he thought so.

But perhaps the fact of working with people close to him this time made him see that things could be worth it again. Although it wasn't the friendliest place to think this, he couldn't deny that it gave him some comfort since he worked with people he knew, especially Chris, who was one of the few people he liked at work. Despite grumbling a lot.

He appreciated the fact that things ended well this time, for the first time in a long time.

There was still a little light in the good things, in the little daily things. Sometimes things didn't always have a bad ending.

The people around him wouldn't always fade away or betray him, that wouldn't always be the course of things.

Maybe now he was ready to start improving a little, maybe yes, maybe no. He would only know if he tried.

Once the madness of the mission was over, all he could think about was you, he could only think about seeing you one more time after everything that had happened. It was a desire so big that it couldn't fit in his chest.

You can bet he was counting the minutes until he got home, he needed to feel your presence again. He needed to know that he had people who were there for him.

He needed your comfort, your reassurance.

Once he got home the first thing he did was look for you, it was more than a desire, it was a need.

Without you even realizing it, you see him leaning against the kitchen counter, with an almost unremarkable smile. You even surprise yourself, since it had been a good few months since you had seen even a trace of a happy expression on his face.

"I'm back.." He says in a whisper, looking at you gently for the first time in a while.

You look at him a little hesitantly, wanting to give him a hug, not knowing if he wanted that or not.

A simple gesture but one that made your day, he opened his arms to you, waiting for you to do what you wanted.

Without a shadow of a doubt he needed this as much as you did.

Maybe there's still a way out. Maybe there is still a way.

Acceptance

Leon was trying, he was trying his best to be a better man. You could tell that, the way he was cutting back on alcohol, the way he was trying to be more attentive to you.

These little things indicated an effort on his part, he didn't want to hate himself anymore, he didn't want to feel so indifferent anymore. Maybe it was time for a change, he didn't need to be like this anymore.

He had people he could count on, and after all, he had you. That even after his coldness in recent years, you never left him, it was time to reciprocate.

And of course there were things he couldn't let go of so easily, especially his problems with trauma, and he already knew that it was a weight he would carry for the rest of his life.

He would never forget.

But he was also trying to learn not to be like that anymore, things could still have a good side. He could still have hope, even if it was a mere drop. Life had been hard on him from the beginning, but he needed to find some motivation. He couldn't live regretting forever, putting himself down every time.

It was time to rise again, time to pick up the pieces and rebuild. Little by little, and of course he would never be the same as before. But he could be a better person, and he would do everything he could to make that happen. You could notice this drastic change even more, since he came back from the last mission, he was different. So proof is that, as soon as he got home he hugged you, and spent a good ten minutes like that.

Probably feeling overwhelmed with yet another mission, duties that seemed to never end. But he wouldn't think about that now.

He wanted to try to be happy. At least one attempt.

Small efforts, for example trying to open up to you, saying few things, but it was a great start. He knew that if he continued like this he would be able to share his problems with you, it certainly wouldn't weigh so much on him if he could share them with you.

His mind was still a mess, but he was trying to organize himself, put his thoughts in order. It was a long and difficult road, but he wanted to bet that he would make it.

It was the glimmer of hope he had.

Leon now went out with you, took you for rides on his motorbike. He begins to realize that life could go beyond work, that not everything needs to be so bad.

You could see him smiling more, he had even gone back to making those corny jokes that never failed to make you laugh. Most importantly, he seemed content, sometimes even at peace with himself.

The desire he had to disappear, little by little was fading, and he began to gain a little more zest for life. Things wouldn't always go wrong, and he could relax a little, even try to let his guard down whenever possible.

Even once you caught him laughing like a fool on his cell phone, only to see him having fun watching a video of a dog, which in his eyes was incredibly funny.

Seeing this, you decide to give him a pet on his birthday. And you almost cried once you saw the joy in his eyes, that sparkle in his eyes that you missed so much.

"I love you." A shy and low voice, accompanied by the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. How long has it been since you last heard this? The sweet way the phrase slid across his lips. A moment so subtle but so sweet, and one that you hoped would be repeated more and more.

Life was worth it, he would make it worth it again.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #death island leon #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 leon #resident evil 2 leon #infinite darkness leon #leon vendetta #di leon #vendetta leon

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thefantasyden · 3 months

Text

Tenderness (part 1?)

Pairing: Chris Bang x F Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive, cliff hanger

Word count: 871

Summary: Chris is happy to be home, and he's happier knowing you're with him.

(Author note: I'm using Chris instead of Chan because he's made it clear that Chris is what seems to make him feel most authentic right now and I'm nothing if not a slut for respecting whatever makes him feel good.)

I just want to see if you guys like this kind of writing and if so I will do a part to with love-overload soft dom Chris.

“Chris, it is way to early for you to be acting up like this.” You muse to him as you read his latest bubble messages, smiling when you notice he was sending pictures you had taken of him while you were at the park.

“Sorry baby. It’s what Stay expect when I’m home though.” He leans across the couch to peck your cheek, messing up your hair affectionately before going back to reading through the replies he’d received.

You’d always thought it was sweet how he tried to read as many replies as he could, even if the senders didn’t know he was seeing them. He always wanted to know more about his fans and you could feel the tension stirring in your heart as you admired him, silently appreciating the person he was.

“You look like you’re about to bite me.” His voice startles you briefly, having been so into your thoughts that you hadn’t seen him put his phone down.

“I was considering it.”

He stands up from his spot across the couch and stretches, briefly scanning the hotel room you’d chosen over staying with his parents, having been terrified of the idea of imposing on them during your first visit to his home. You loved his parents of course, and you arguably spoke to his mother more than he did, yet you still held a certain respect-based fear of them that wasn’t quite as easy to shake.

Your focus is back on your phone until you hear him groan, catching you off guard when he suddenly flops down on top of your body, his full weight pressing you into the couch with your arms trapped awkwardly against your chest.

“You’re gonna crush me! Can you not!” You struggle to breath between the sheer force of him on top of you and the urge to giggle at his antics, sighing deeply when he finally props himself up slightly on his forearms.

“You weren’t paying attention to me!” His voice is a playful whine, only slightly less needy than he was when demanding attention from the members that he also loved to crush with the weight of his love.

“It’s your one job as the love of my life.” He buries his face in your neck, inhaling the vanilla scent of your perfume as his hair tickles your cheek. In moments like this you can’t help but coo at him, overwhelmed with gratitude knowing that you get to love him in his softest moments.

You’re wriggle your arms free from between your chest in favour of wrapping one around the back of his neck to stroke his hair and the other around his shoulders, tracing your nails over the fabric of his shirt lightly.

A happy hum escapes his lips and then he’s moving you both, wrapping himself around your side with his leg thrown between yours. It’s a much more comfortable way to be trapped against your boyfriend and it allows him to hold you tightly against him, gentle sighs and moans of content meeting your ears as he settles in.

You diligently pet his head, your other hand wrapping around his forearm as he holds you. Seeing him so peaceful made every hardship you had faced feel worthwhile. The long studio nights, the weeks you had to spend apart. It all made sense to see him so happy and in his element.

You hadn’t realised your nails were now tracing the bare skin at his neck until you heard a barely audible moan, Chris’ heavy eyes staring softly at your lips.

“That feels nice.” He mumbles with a smile that spreads across cheek to cheek when your fingers move to stroke his cheek. Sometimes he couldn’t believe you were a real part of his life.

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him and pressing a gentle kiss to his own lips, laughing with him when his smile doesn’t cease. You were so used to your kisses being broken with giggles and grins that it had long ago become your favourite part of kissing him.

“Can you focus for two seconds so I can kiss you properly?”

The playful tone of your words had his wheels turning, his body shifting to cover more of your own without being entirely on top of you.

“Yeah? You wanna kiss me that bad huh?" Lips press ever so lightly against the side of your neck and suddenly the shift in his mood isn’t the only thing you can feel pressing against you.

The annoyed whine that escapes you is more than enough for him and he kisses you a little harder this time, needy hands sliding down from your hip to sneak underneath the fabric of your shirt. You shivered slightly at his cold hands on your bare skin, the sensation combining in your head with the tingle of his lips as they strayed from your own, trailing down your neck toward your chest as he mumble quiet ‘I love you’s that you would have missed if you hadn’t felt those same words on your flesh a million times over.

“So pretty.” He whispers, eyes meeting your as he slides your shirt up slowly. “Lemme show you how pretty you are?”

#bang chan smut #chris bang smut #chan smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #chris bang fluff #bang chan fluff #thefantasyden

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steinfellds · 2 months

Note

Hey how was your day?

So I wanna ask if you could write a os with Natasha and reader, who's really like really scared of dogs. Like they suffer from cynophobia.

Would make me really happy cause I myself suffer from that and just got in a Situation today that made me really afraid :)

Cynophobia - N.R

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

a/n: we're gonna ignore that it took me nearly 2 years to write this request. I'm SLOWLY working my way through them all.

The moment you saw the animal, your throat closes up and you struggle to breathe. Your palms become sweaty, and your heart begins to beat with hast.

To someone else, the dog may not seem scary or anything of the sorts. Although, it was the complete opposite for you. Dogs terrify you.

The Golden Retriever continued to freely walk around the living room, sniffing at random objects. You shift uncomfortably on the couch - a fatal mistake.

The dog leaps up on the couch, excitedly making his way into your lap. A sob escapes from your throat and you push him away, yet he doesn't move.

"Oh, fuck," Kate appears at your side, pulling the dog away from you "Natasha, they're in here!"

With the dog off your lap, you curl into a ball, unable to control your cries and the tears running down your face. You briefly hear the apologies spewing out of Kate's mouth before Natasha is ushering her out and pulling you into her embrace.

You wrap your arms around Natasha's shoulders and bury your face into her neck.

"You're okay, baby." Natasha holds you tightly, "Kate has him, he's gone now."

Even with the dog gone, you still can't shake that fear.

"I'm sorry, Natty." You apologise through cries, feeling like a complete burden to her.

Natasha hushes you and kisses your head, "Nonsense. Don't apologise for something that is out of your control."

You hear the dog bark loudly, and even though you know it's far away, you can't help but tense up.

"Y/n, look at me." Natasha is grabbing your face from out of her neck "You're safe, okay? Lucky is outside and Kate is taking him home."

You sniffle. You must look like an absolute trainwreck.

"I promise that he's not going to hurt you. You're safe with me," Natasha runs her thumbs over your cheek, wiping away the stray tears.

Natasha's words bring comfort and with the help of a few kisses, your sobs slowly turn into sniffles and hiccups.

"There you go, baby. Deep breathes," Natasha runs her hand over your back.

You wince as you glance down at Natasha's tear stained shirt. "I'm sorry about your shirt,"

Natasha shakes her head, "Washing machines exist for a reason. All that matters is that you're okay,"

You nod, "I'm okay, thank you."

Natasha kisses your forehead, "My brave little baby,"

You sure as hell don't feel very brave, but Natasha continues to insist that you are until you find yourself agreeing with her.

You smile softly, giving her a kiss on the tip of her nose. No matter what, Natasha would always be there for you.

#kayoposts #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagine

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happy74827 · 17 days

Text

A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Harry was right, after all. He didn't feel. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita. But then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was smart if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bore into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted. Bold. If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 9 months

Note

OK RUIN DLC AVAILABLE!! Can I make a request then? How do Ruin glam.freddy, Ruin glam.chica, Ruin Monty, and Ruin Roxy react to an overwhelmed reader? Too much is happening to Child Reader and he ends up crying or bursting with rage. How would they react to the reader? (sorry for my english 😅)

Oh don't worry! Your english is good! (for this, we'll just say reader takes Cassie's place)

.........

Prototype/Ruined Freddy

All you wanted to do was find your friend, and you thought you'd find an ally in your quest when you discovered Freddy in the decrepit Fazer Blaster room.

But something was very wrong as he emerged from the wreckage, joints clicking and parts shuffling before he finally turns to screech at you with great hostility.

Not with his mouth, as he lacked a head, but with his birthday cake hatch that acted like a gaping monstrous maw.

He hunted you down like a wild animal, chasing you until you managed to reach the next inhibitor-

Only for Freddy to be there first, cornering you at last and almost daring you to come closer.

But you were so terrified, so stressed that...you just hid somewhere and cried, not caring what happens to you anymore. "I-I'm sorry, Gregory..I can't do this. I'm too scared and I don't know where I'm going!!"

It's in that moment where Freddy briefly snaps out of the M.X.E.S programming controlling him.

He may have been a prototype, but he did have similar directives to his successor--that being to ensure the safety and happiness of all children who visited. That was his priority.

He follows your cries, and instead of attacking, he offers you the green present in his chest to cheer you up.

You worried it was some trick, but you take it anyways, finding a scratched-up Freddy magnet inside, barely recognizable aside from the shape.

Relieved, you smile and pocket the gift, wiping away your tears. "Th-Thanks, Freddy.."

He stands back up, only for the M.X.E.S to take ahold of him again.

While he's fighting back against it, you duck under him and turn off the inhibitor before making your escape, not looking back once even as he storms after you.

At least you knew he wasn't doing this on purpose.

Ruined Chica

If you weren't already overwhelmed enough by everything happening within the ruined mall...Chica's shattered voicebox was the icing on top.

The noises hurt your ears so, so much..and suddenly you became terrified of every creaking or grating metal sound, always thinking it's her.

Staying on your toes was important, of course, though it was getting to be too much for you to bear.

When she's hunting you down in one of the kitchens, you're so stressed that you end up hiding and covering your ears, trying not to cry as the noises continued.

Before they...abruptly stopped, as she's now aware that her voice simply wasn't going to come back.

But in that moment, she heard your sniffle and immediately found your hiding spot.

You think you're doomed until she sees you covering your ears still, and despite her eyes being out of sorts..

They looked quite guilty.

The M.X.E.S has no control over her at the moment, so she spares you and leaves.

At some point later on you find her original voice box, seeking her out and repairing her to the best of your ability.

"I smell pizza!!" She trills, before the reality sets in that she has her voice back at last!

And it's a brief moment of happiness for her before she shuts down, seeing you by her side as her vision goes dark.

While doing this didn't make you any less stressed about your search for your friend...you felt better knowing you helped her.

Ruined Roxy

She wasn't targeting you because of the M.X.E.S, but rather because she assumed you were Gregory, threatening to tear out your eyes and make them hers.

However she decided to stalk you at a very bad time, as you began shouting and throwing stuff at her after getting so fed-up with coming to dead ends and Helpi's irritating voice.

The first thing was a plushie, which isn't super effective in hurting her, but the sudden impact startled her nevertheless.

Then you began pelting whatever you could find on the ground. Soda cans, crumbled papers, etc. even as she apologized over and over, shielding herself.

"K-Kid, I'm sorry..!!"

"I'm not afraid you anymore!! LEAVE ME ALONE, FREAK!!"

Suddenly, she freezes up, sniffling before she touches her face self-consciously.

"Th-That's right..I'm...I-I'm a freak...I'm a hideous freak!!" She wails, ultimately collapsing to the ground crying.

You stop, realizing the (emotional) damage you've done and....feeling guilty when you see her sobbing.

You honestly thought she was mindless like all the others...and yet..part of her old personality remained, notably the "insecure" part of it.

Keeping the mask clipped to your side (as you didn't wanna see her through some green hologram), you approach and kneel down, awkwardly trying to comfort her.

"Roxy? I-I...I didn't mean to call you that. I'm sorry." You frown. "You're not a freak, you're still..um...p-pretty. I..I've just been angry and I took it out on you...because you keep thinking I'm Gregory."

She's surprised to hear that you aren't actually him, but is still hurt by the insult.

You stay with her for a bit, reminding her of the mantras she used to tell herself back then, and she begins to repeat them with a smile on her face.

"Your tail is beautiful, your hair is beautiful..and everyone loves you."

"My tail...is beautiful. My hair is..beautiful...and everyone loves me.."

"Yeah, that's good!"

Ruined Monty

He used to be the coolest character to you.

But now? He was nothing like his former self. Just a mindless beast crawling around and trying to bite your legs off.

It was sad, in a way.

Yet you've been attacked by him nonstop ever since you got that stupid mask.

He didn't just scare you, though.

If anything...you got angry right back at him, shouting at him to go away and/or throwing whatever you could to keep him off your back.

Somehow he keep finding you. It's like he had some personal vendetta against you and was powered by rage alone.

In Gator Golf, you found a golf club that wasn't broken, deciding to keep it with you should you ever need to defend yourself.

He was an alligator, yet it somehow shocked you when you're trying to reach the next conduit to unlock a door....and discover that he can swim.

You were stuck traversing boxes like you were playing "the floor is lava"...except the lava is Monty, of course.

When you finally unlock the door, he roars and makes a desperate grab for your leg, and would have succeeded in dragging you into the electrified water...

Had you not used the club to break his hand and chip some of his teeth.

It seemed to bring him genuine pain....but you didn't care.

"Sorry, Monty...BUT I'M NOT YOUR DINNER!!!" You shout as you knock him back into the water, watching him fry.

Part of you felt guilty for doing that once you calmed down and got to safely, but what else could you do?

He was too far gone to help. You had to put him out of his misery.

#clanask #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf sb x reader #fnaf security breach x reader #fnaf ruin x reader #fnaf ruin spoilers #ruin spoilers #ruined freddy #prototype glamrock freddy #ruined chica #ruined monty #ruined roxy #child reader #male reader #headcanons #platonic

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islayhawkin · 3 months

Text

Savior

Jack dawkins x f!reader

Summery: you get hurt and jack does everything in his power to save you

Request: i loooooove your writing and i was wondering if you could do a htc with jack dawkins, maybe reader gets hurt and he had to operate & just them after xxx

A/N: ahh thank you so much! I'd never miss a chance to write angst and hurt/comfort 😌 Jack is one of the most unfamiliar characters for me right now so I‘m still trying to figure him out but I‘m happy that you guys seem to like it

Warnings!: blood, wounds, surgeries (basically everything that happens in the show too)

Angst, hurt/comfort

It had been a usual work day at the hospital for jack. Almost boringly so. Nothing really seemed to happen. No surgeries were planned. Only patients with some problem or another. That was until you came falling into his arms in the evening. Literally.

You stumbled into the hospital door with a hand on your bleeding abdomen. Your breath was heavy and you tried to blink the nauseous feeling away but had to hold yourself up against the wall. It left a bloody print on it but you didn‘t notice as you staggered over to Jacks room.

It wasn’t really logical to aim for Jacks room since he probably was still at work in the hospital but it was the first place you could think of. Lucky for you, Jack turned the corner into the hall and discovered you slumping against the wall.

His heart almost came to a stop at the sight before starting to bound out of control again. He ran over to your side with long strides and quickly wrapped his arm around your waist to holy you upright. His hands were shaking.

"What happened?" His accent was thicker than usual, panicked.

"Stabbed." You breathed out, barely getting the word out.

Jack cursed under his breath and quickly took action. He pulled his neckerchief from his neck and pressed it against the wound earning ragged breaths from you.

"Apologies. Press it." He ordered firmly. You had never seen him quite so stern with you. But Jack had no time for gentle words, he had to act quickly.

He swiftly picked you up bridal style with his hand in the crook of your knee and carried you over to the operation table. Meanwhile he screamed for Hetty or any nurse or help nearby for that matter.

You hang limply in his arms. Though you tried to follow his order to press the cloth against your abdomen, it was difficult to mentain the strength in your arm.

The feeling of your limp body against him didn't help Jacks panic. It wasn't as if the wound seemed so gruesome. He had seen and operated a lot more but this was different. It was you.

Usually he went into surgeries with ease. He put on a show for the audience, operate with steady hands and show off a bit. Now he wasn't even sure if he could do it.

It was his heart that looked at you not his brain. But he needed to push through and shut his heart off for a moment.

Jack pushed some things roughly from the operation table, which made a clattering sound as the stuff hit the floor.

At last Hetty rushed into the room too and her eyes widened at the sight before her. She knew what you meant to him.

Jack looked up briefly as she entered. "We need to check for any interanal demage immediately, then sew it close."

With quick fingers Jack pucked up his gear and sat it on the side table.

"Are you sure you are in a position to perform this surgery dr dawkins?" Hetty asked hesitantely.

"I have to." Jack snapped at her.

"Jack..." you whispered trying to catch his attention.

His eyes flew to yours and what he saw in them broke him. You were afraid. Terrified. He felt as if you were afraid of him. He was gonna cut you open, he was going to hurt you. But he needed to.

He swallowed. "It'll be okay love. I promise. I'm going to have to operate on you now but you will not feel anything." He tried to reassure you. Desperate to get that terrified look off of your face.

You searched him with your hand and gripped onto his pants. You needed some kind of closure to him. He understood and took your hand in his. Giving it a reassuring squeeze. There was blood smeared everywhere on your hands but that didn't matter.

He held a mask over your mouth with his other hand. "Just breathe. You'll feel nothing." He whispered.

That's the last thing you remembered before you slipped into a sweet sleep.

The moment you were out jack immediately went into action and took the scalpel from hettys hand. His hand trembled slightly and he pinched his fingers together in a attempt to get it under control.

It felt so wrong to hurt you. Of course he knew that he was just saving you. He did that on a daily basis. But your delicate form usually snuggled up against him, the one he was made to protect, to cut with a knife made him almost feel it on his own skin.

Hetty gave him a concerned look but didn't say anything else. He tried to focus on the task at hand and definately not look at your face. He had to take short breaks where he leaned on the desk and breathed deeply in and out but in the end the procedure went well.

After he had closed you up and checked for the 10th time if you still had pulse and were breathing, he picked you up in his arms gently and carried you to a free bed in a seperate room with ease. He'd get you positioned in his room later anyways.

It was dark already so he lit a candle on your bedside table.

He took a deep breath and gave himself permission to relax for the first time since you came stumbleing in. He got a blanket and gently draped it over you. He checked your pulse again and sat down on a chair next to your bed.

Jack slumped down and put his head in his hands. It had been terrible to witness, to do himself and it didn't leave him unscathered. The dried blood was still on his hands as he went through his hair.

He was distressed to say the least by this whole situation, not only felt he responsible for what happened to you, as if he should have protected you better, shouldn't have to cut you open, but also was this feeling terrifieingly new to him.

Jack was a street kid. He had grown up seeing gore and death. And he was a surgeon. He was living with death constantly. He had a living human under his hands daily. But with you it made him feel terrified.

He also wasn't very often terrified. His eyes moisted up. And he blinked hastily to get it away again.

So he engulfed your smaller hand in his big, calloused one. He had always loved the feeling of your hand in his. It made him feel like he was protecting you even though he failed so miserably in real.

You started to gain consciousness again as you blinked your eyes open slowly. The first thing you noticed was that everything hurt. The second was your hand resting in another and your gaze fluttered to jack on your side. He honestly looked a mess. Not that he looked less good because of it.

"You look like a mess." You muttered your thought out loud.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. "You're awake." He checked you over even though he knew excactly what state you were in.

Your hand softly squeezed his.

"How are you feeling? Are you feeling sick or dizzy?" He started to pepper you with questions.

"Feels horrible. Like I was hit by a horse." you croaked out.

Jack grimaced. "Yeah that's normal." He opened his mouth to start a sentence but clamped it shut again. Swallowing.

"I was really afraid." He whispered. His big brown eyes looking at yours sincerly.

You smiled weakly. "I was too. I'm glad you were there. Thank you."

He shook his head. "No that's not- I should've been there for you. I'll never forget that frightened look on your face...what happened excactly?"

You sighed and closed your eyes. "I was assaulted. Honestly I'm not sure what they wanted. Probably harass and rob me or something. Well I fought against them and it seemed they didn't like that very much. Stabbed me in the gut and left me on the street."

Jack ran a hand over his face. "I am so sorry. Still I'm glad that you at least weren't sexually assaulted... I shouldn't have let you gone outside alone. I told you it was too dangerous!" Jacks eyes started to wet again at the mental image.

"No. There is always a risk I know that. But i don't want you to- and I can't ask you to escort me everywhere I go. Just...thank you for saving me jack."

"Of course. I was bloody shaking doing that you know?" He gave you a small smile.

"You are the most chill person in a surgery." You stated confused.

"Well not when it's you under my scalpel."

He took the side of your face in his hands. Your skin was still pale. His eyes were switching between yours. "I don't want anything to happen to you ever again. I don't think I could bare it." He whispered. His face incredibly close to yours.

You layed your hand on to of his. "You're always there to save me if it should hapoen again doctor dawkins."

"I cannot fathom a life without you in it Y/N." He whispered.

You smiled lovingly up at him. "Will you join me in bed?"

He grinned widely. "Gladly darlin'. We have to be careful of your wounds though so no thigh cuddleing."

"Probably for the best." You groaned slightly as your attention turned back to the pain.

He got into bed next to you. It was a thigh fit but neither of you minded it at all. His movements were very careful and tender as he wrapped his arm around you.

You relaxed against him as he soothed the pain a bit away.

"I'll never let that happen again." He whispered rather to himself before a sweet slumber overcame you both.

#jack dawkins #jack dawkins x reader #the artful dodger #dr jack dawkins #tbs imagine #angst with a happy ending

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notjustjavierpena · 10 months

Text

Firstborn

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: A silly little piece for a silly little author, who wanted to have more of husband!Javi and The Peñas. This is a follow-up to Fever!

Summary: It’s early in the morning when you go into labor with you and Javier’s first child.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: Sfw, pregnancy, angst, non-explicit descriptions of labor, love!!!

Word count: 2.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48493402

Firstborn

Your water breaks at 03:48 AM on an early Sunday morning. You know this because your initial thought is to check the clock on your nightstand, too tired to register why you’ve woken up and briefly thinking that you have wet the bed. You’ve had contractions on and off for a few days, but this marks something new, something real and exciting and oh God, soon something extremely painful too.

Still being slightly disoriented from sleep, you reach between your legs without thinking much about it. Immediately, you shoot up from your lying position until you are sitting, suddenly very awake and aware of what is happening when a contraction starts at the base of your spine. Yep, definitely more painful than the ones you have had up until now.

Javier feels your movements, blinks awake as slowly as you had just done, but then does the same thing as you; stirs, realizes and widens his eyes. He looks to you, swears under his breath, and nearly falls on his face as he stumbles out of bed, because he accidentally forgets to untangle himself from his covers.

“Now?” He just asks, ending up on the floor nonetheless. He sits on his ass, awaiting your answers. You can see the slight redness in his face from his pulse having quickened, giving away his nervous state.

“Now,” you nod. You have a brief moment where you curse the fact that he will have to take you to the hospital in this state; clumsy, nervous, boyish and excited. Then you remember all the other things too: Caring, loving, supportive, serious and absolutely in love with you.

“Right,” he rubs a hand over his face as if collecting himself, smooths his thumb and forefinger over his mustache before fighting to get off the floor despite the thumping in his chest. He also somehow looks a little paler than usual, but powers through anyway, “Let’s get you out of the door, momma.”

“Javi,” you get helped off the bed with only a slight struggle of keeping your balance, placing a hand on your belly afterwards to soothe your child who seems eager to let you know of their arrival.

Javier is frantically stuffing useless things in the bag that has been packed and ready for weeks, and you take a deep breath when he shoves three extra towels in there. You’d be fine with it if it wasn’t for the anxiety creeping up the back of your neck at what is about to happen, “Javi.”

“Yes, amor?”

“Just take the fucking bag and let’s go. It’s packed. It’s been packed for a month. They have towels in the hospital,” you waddle towards the door, “Javi, let’s go.”

You know that you are over-prepared with a bag; stuffed toys, beanies, pacifiers, onesies, candy, apparently a million towels. Yet in the car, between contractions, you realize that you are in no way mentally prepared, because you start to feel absolutely terrified at the idea of going into actual labor.

You keep it together during the car ride though, afraid of Javier losing focus of his driving on the main road if you start to hyperventilate from being scared instead of in pain. It’s already hard enough to tell him to have his eyes front when you feel your whole pelvic floor start to cramp horribly, holding on for dear life as you breathe through the pain.

“Almost there,” he reassures, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

You want to turn the car around and go back home.

You arrive at the maternity ward twenty minutes later. The latest contraction came as you were walking across the parking lot and nearly knocked the wind out of you, so when they finally get you a bed in your very own hospital room, you can feel relieved tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Javier is sweet, and has gotten you ice water and a chocolate bar from an overpriced vending machine, but he nearly drops both when he sees you crying as he enters the white room again.

Softly, he says your name and rushes to put everything down on the bedside table to empty his hands. He stands by your side, and you smile weakly at him until your bottom lip starts to tremble and your facade starts to crumble.

“¿Qué pasa? Do you need a nurse?” He tries to seem calm for you, but his nervousness bleeds through. You know him better than anyone, and you can see that he is worried. You want to let him know that he doesn’t have to be, but you’re filled with anxiety as well.

“No need for a nurse, she’ll come check when she thinks it’s time to check,” you say through a few tears.

“What then? What’s happening?”

“I’m—“

Then another wave of pain hits you. This time is stronger than ever, causing you to groan loudly, holding onto the bed for support and trying to breathe through it.

Javier watches you nervously, looking at the call button for a moment and then back at you.

“Don’t call,” you say through gritted teeth. The pain gives you something to blame the tears on since you feel quite silly for being scared of something you’ve prepared yourself for, for months, and so you let yourself sob once and then twice as you wait for the contraction to fade out again.

“You want something to drink?” Javier asks, picking up a cold rag from a bowl on the table. He gently dabs your forehead, sneaks down to tap away the flowing tears as well, “Chocolate?”

“No,” you pant as the cramping sensation passes. Your whole body relaxes into the bed again, grip loosening and your eyes fluttering closed, “I just want this to be over.”

“You’re so brave, momma,” he says with a little smile, replacing the cold rag with his hand instead. He runs it over your hair soothingly, repeating the action over and over, “And a fucking badass too. Not scared of anything.”

“Javi,”

“No no, it’s true,” his voice is usually enough to calm you.

“Javi, I’m terrified,” you confess and then immediately burst into more tears. You turn your head away to avoid his eyes from where you are lying down, feeling the tears run down over your cheek and into your hair, “I’m already exhausted. What if I can’t do it? And what if I’m hurting the baby? What if I’m going to be a shit mom?”

Javier is silent for just a moment, holding onto the bed’s railing and tapping it anxiously with his fingers. He opens his mouth to say something but then hesitates just as he is about to.

“Say something so I know you don’t agree,” you sniffle, heart pounding in your chest.

“Agree?” Javier’s tone is a little more high-pitched than usual, but he clears his throat to bring it back down again, “Of course I don’t agree, amor. We’ll figure it out, yeah? The baby-thing? We always do, and you’ll be the best momma out there.”

You dare to turn your head to face him again. He looks perfect; eyes soft, smiling down at you with an expression that tells you it’ll be okay.

“And I’ll be right here until he’s here, ain’t gonna be one of them fainters now, am I?” He jokes, drumming slightly on the railing, “Not even if you break my wrist. I’ll even allow you to do that.”

“He?” You ask. He comes down to kiss you and then you watch him push himself back to stand upright, going to put a straw into your ice water and holding the cup up to your face. You take a sip.

“I don’t have hard proof right here, but I just know it’s gonna be a boy,” he looks a little embarrassed as he says it, but you just love him more. He sets down the cup again, takes your hand afterwards, “You can do this, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Javier F. Peña! You! You did this to me! Fuck you!” You spit his name venomously as you endure yet another contraction, which has become more intense and frequent by now. You have been scooted to the edge of the bed, legs in the torture instruments they call leg supports.

Javier looks like someone who is about to turn on their heel to run off in the opposite direction of danger. He doesn’t though because as much as your eyes are wild, they are also full of tears. He stays by your side, holding your hand as you continue your scarily accurate impression of the girl from The Exorcist.

“Alright,” your midwife says, “I think it’s time to push, contractions should become less intense but more frequent.”

“You think it’s time?” You yell loudly through a contraction. Javier says your name softly.

“I know it’s time,” she corrects herself, “You got this, mom. When you feel the next one, you give me what you got, alright? I’ll count down with you.”

You whimper as you nod, but at least you can see light at the end of the tunnel, and so you give it your everything and more until Javier is nearly brought to his knees from you squeezing his hand.

“Fuck!” You swear through your teeth and throw yourself back into the mattress to catch your breath. Your hair is wet and your skin is glistening from sweat and tears, making you sob from the exhaustion that has completely overwhelmed your body. You shake your head rapidly as you pant, “I can’t do it. I can’t— I can’t do it, I’m sorry. I don’t want to. Please, I don’t want to.”

“We’re almost there, almost,” your midwife encourages, but you just feel naked and sweaty and tired. She keeps going, “Just a few more pushes, I promise.”

Javier kisses your damp hair as you cry, holding your hand tightly. When he draws back, he finds your eyes, “I’m right here, amor. Just a few more, hear that? C’mon now.”

“I can’t do it,” you sniffle but it just turns into more wreaking sobs.

“If anyone can, it’s you, baby, it’s you,” he presses another kiss to your hair, shifting his hand to entwine your fingers and gently squeezing, “One more push. Please. For me.”

“O-okay,” you hold his gaze, bottom lip nearly splitting in half as you bite down on it when another contraction starts.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1…” Your midwife counts out loud.

It is in fact just one more push, and then you hear the cry of a newborn fill the room. Everything has been worth it, you decide in an instant, and whatever pain you’re experiencing is numbed by the insane amount of happy chemicals flooding your tired form.

“It’s a boy,” the midwife says and through heavy eyes, you can see Javier tense up at the mention of the sex, “We got a name?”

“Lucas,” you and Javier say at the same time.

It takes them a moment to wipe Lucas down and cut his umbilical cord, but when you feel the weight of his tiny body on your chest, you start crying all over. He cries in your arms, searching instinctively for food and you sniffle quietly as you admire your creation.

“Hello you,” you say weakly as he suddenly looks you in the eye, “Oh my God, look at him. I made him.”

Lucas Peña. Nothing but a mess of dark hair, tiny hands and feet, and somehow such a strong resemblance to his father despite being so new and frail.

Javier is silent beside you, and you’ll never say it out loud, but you have forgotten he is there for just a moment. It’s only when he clears his throat that you realize how strained his voice is, cracking for just a split second as he tries talking.

“He’s perfect,” he sniffles, daring himself to reach out and run a knuckle down the infant’s back, breath hitching in his throat, “You did so fucking good, mi amor.”

Lucas wiggles a little under Javier’s touch, small fingers moving in the real world for the first time. You force yourself to look up at your husband to see his reaction, but you’re scared you’ll miss the tiniest thing that your baby does.

“I love you,” you smile tiredly. Javier leans down to kiss you ever so gently and it’s like a permission, a promise that everything is under control of his unconditional love for the both of you.

You can feel your eyes starting to close at that despite knowing not everything is over just yet. You’ll take the chance of resting for just a few minutes.

Besides you, Javier is trying his damn hardest to suppress a sob. He does manage, but only until he gets to hold his first- and newborn son against his chest for the first time.

#javi peña #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javi pena #javier pena one shot #narcos #my writing #husband!javi #pedro pascal characters

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