#needle implication

[cometblaster2070]

so i'm going to go fucking insane because for a while this aspect of malenia's character design has been bothering me and making me think I'm seeing things and going fucking crazy.

the aspect in question is malenia's left arm:

when i first saw malenia's arm my first thought was oh okay they're probably just bandages or some sort of wraps.

but then you look a bit closer and like

idk about you (because i might be losing it) but it seems like the mesh of whatever the fuck that is very clearly melded with her skin in a way/it looks like it's going into and then emerging out of her skin (which is HORRIFYING to think of I won't lie).

and once again i thought i was going crazy and seeing things because surely these were just meant to be wraps or bandages like the ones we see in the scene of her fighting radahn right?

and then the thought of the needle came to my mind. along with something malenia says in her cutscene before we fight her.

"my flesh was dull gold"

huh. now isn't that interesting.

this would imply that in order to stall the rot from consuming his sister, miquella made a plan to sew unalloyed gold into malenia's skin using his needle in a last-ditch attempt to save her arm.

(granted it's funnier to imagine he just sticks it in her arm and goes okay great all done! and that's probably the canon way it went but)

the thought of the sheer pain malenia must've gone through during this process, to be honest, and the thought of the guilt miquella must've felt at having to force his sister to endure even more agony just to help her is just sad.

and all of it is done just in an attempt to salvage what they can of her and hope that more can't be taken.

edit: btw when looking at malenia pre-bloom and pre-losing her needle it looks like there's a proper layer/cover/whatever it is around her arm up till her knuckles making it seem like an actual covering or layer on top of her skin and what not, but when we fight her post-bloom and post-losing needle it appears like some of the layers have either flaked or fallen away and that reveals that it's actually meshed with/into her skin.

[nebulousfishgills]

BRYNDEN RIVERS MY MAN

[zyzix]

Gift for Bboy Oats&Rice! in halloween exchange @twewyss

They wanted something "funny and up-Beat" so here's Shiki helpin him out of an experiment gone wrong.

[modeus-the-misanthrope]

[blossomfestival]

doodlesssssss

[wardensantoineandevka]

in like four days, Nathaniel Trapp is going to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because he remembered his father's subway cars are protectively mirrored

[hollowslasher]

Ren pfp, free for use ✌️ I’ve edited it to hell and back

[asoulofstars]

Jordan is having another day where the boneitis is killing her and the nerves are inflamed. I am getting an injection tomorrow morning, so fingers crossed this gets better.

[royalreef]

She was put on this planet solely to pin her fins back in the middle-distance of someone else's conversation.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

need fuct actually injected into my veins.

[hj-skb]

"imprisoned"

2019-01-26

[menagerofmischief]

pretty and pierced -> ln4

this came to me in a dream, 18+ also, written in all lowercase, sorry part one | part two | part three

piercer!lando who you meet on a night out with friends. you're in a crowded club, dancing with your friends when one of them tugs on your arm.

"girl!" gerry, your best friend, screams at you over the loud music. "hottie alert! and he's been looking at you like he wants to eat you!" she giggles, pointing her finger and you follow it, your eyes landing on lando.

he's standing near the bar, talking with a few friends, but his eyes are glued on you. the second he notices you looking at him, he smirks, raising his hands to wave his fingers at you before beckoning you over.

gerry practically screams into your ear, already a bit drunk from all the shots she had, and grips your arm. "you have to go!" she tells you, shaking your shoulders before her arms slip down to your top, pulling it a bit lower to expose more of your cleavage.

she gives you a sultry look before pushing you into the crowd and towards the bar. "have fun!" she calls out before you're too far away to hear her from the music.

you laugh to yourself as you make you way over to the bar, where lando's standing and watching you approach with hungry eyes.

'hi!' he smiles, speaking when you're finally near enough to be able to even remotely hear him over the loud songs blaring from the speakers. "I'm lando."

you smile back at him, "y/n."

"y/n," he repeats, your name rolling off his tongue, sounding sweeter than honey. "pretty name for a pretty girl," he says, a laugh slipping past his lips when you blush. "let me buy you a drink."

you're a few drinks deep, giggling at his cheesy jokes when a half rational thought crosses your mind. "so, what do you do, lando?"

he grins, running a hand trough his curls. "I own a small tattoo and piercing studio," he says and you squeal with delight.

"really?!" you ask, grabbing onto his arm, your fruity cocktail pushed to the side. "I always wanted to get a piercing!"

"really?" lando echoes, his tone slightly teasing. "what kind?"

your cheeks burn, eyes dropping a bit lower as you suddenly get shy, and he can't help but be amused. his fingers sneak under your chin, lifting it up so you meet his eyes. "come on now, princess, don't go all shy on me. what piercing do you want?"

you don't know if it's possible to blush anymore but you certainly do. "I always wanted to get my nipples pierced," you murmur, but lando catches it, his eyes gleaming. "even got an appointment once, but I chickened out last minute."

a smirk spreads on his lips, and there's a look you can't quiet place in his eyes. "how about I do them for you?" he offers, and you nearly choke on your own saliva. "on the house."

"oh - I couldn't possibly -" you begin to protest, but he cuts you off.

"why not, princess?" he asks, "I'm offering, aren't I?" his eyes follow the curve of your body, greedily staring at your chest. "and don't you worry, I'll be gentle."

you have to bite your lip to force yourself not to whimper, paddling deeper into an unknown territory with him.

"so what do you say?" he asks and your eyes widen when you catch the implication.

"you mean now?"

"why the hell not?"

after a second of overthinking you grab your glass, downing the rest of the fruity drink in one go before looking back at him, nodding your head. "you know what? why the hell not!"

and that's the story of how you ended up in lando's tattoo studio that night. the place was closed, and a bit cold if you were being honest. you awkward sat on the tattoo bed as lando gathered all the necessary stuff.

"you change your mind yet princess?" he teased, making sure all the needles were sterilized.

you laughed, pressing your palms down on the leather of the bed. "I might if you keep being so slow!" you teased back and he laughed.

"well all done now," he said, approaching you with a metal tray. "you might wanna ..." he gestured to your top, "I still haven't mastered piercing over clothes."

you giggled, still feeling a bit tipsy from all the previous drinks, your nerves easing up a little. you reaches for the hem of your top, grabbing it with both hands and pulling it over your head. after a second of hesitation you unclasped your bra, putting it next to your shirt.

lando groaned, taking in the sight of your naked chest, nipples pebbled and erect from the chilly air in the studio. he reached out for you, hands cupping your tits, groping them greedily. "you ready?"

"yes" you said, a sigh falling past your lips as his hands groped you.

lando lifted up the needle and you tensed, awaiting the pain. instead he leaned forward, lips closing around one of your nipples and sucking, making you whine at the sensation.

"what are you -" you couldn't finish, whining when his teeth nipped at your nipple, as the same time you felt a short painful sensation in your other nipple, head snapping to look and your eyes zeroed in on the needle piercing your nipple.

you exhaled a breath and lando pulled away, grinning up at you wickedly. "didn't even feel it, did you princess?"

you shook your head, feeling your cheeks burn. lando laughed, inserting the piercing and adjusting it so it wasn't too tight. he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your nipple, making your body twitch.

"looks good," he said, preparing for the other nipple.

one of his hands cupped your other breast, squeezing once before he let his fingers trace around your pebbled nipple. you held you breath as his fingers pinched the nipple, distracting you enough to not notice the needle, just like the last time, until he was already done.

"holy shit," you breathed out as he adjusted the second piercing, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the freshly pierced nipple.

he pulled away, his hungry eyes focused on your tits. "they suit you well, princess." he purred, his hands cupping your tits.

suddenly he pulled away completely, taking off his gloves and approaching the counter, searching around for a bit before pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. he scribbled something quickly before returning to your side.

"don't put the bra on," he said when you reached for the undergarment. "let it breathe a bit, wear only the top." he grabbed the bra away, a mischievous look on his face. "and I'll keep this."

you obeyed, putting on your top. lando handed you the piece of paper and you looked at the number written on it. he must have seen the confusion on your face because he quickly clarified.

"that's my personal number," he purred, smiling at you. "the healing takes about 6 to 8 weeks, you should send me updates, picture updates, so I can make sure everything is healing well."

"oh, is that so?" you teased back, finally finding your voice again.

"oh yes!" he nodded, "I take very serious care, have to make sure everything is alright, and I gotta be able to see it to confirm it."

he walked you over to the door, lingering a bit as his eyes slid over your body. with a last surge of confidence he leaned forward and pressed a short teasing kiss to your lips, pulling away to leave you wanting more.

"and if you want any more piercing, you know where I am."

please give this one some love (likes and reblogs) it's my crazy baby also I'm thinking reader gets a clit piercing next but idk!!

[cannibalisticskittles]

went thru with volo's surgery just to see what would happen, since i heard it was worse than in early access; naturally not posting any other pics bc. gross, lmao. gonna reload bc it took Too Long to get the right eyes for amity and i'm not gonna permanently fuck that up but. worth a look!

[wallcreeper-and-oro]

connection.find(omni_net) connection established omni.id.vericode(Y/N) (Y) {vericode entered} connection verified - lancer 910372

⋆𖦹 oh this is interesting! i'm surprised to see so many pilots who rely on analog! most of my controls are neural, almost exclusively actually but with some motion capture? kinda?

the little quirk is that to enhance the feeling connection beyond even just the neurolink implant is im suspended in a sort of fluid-solid? Liza says it's like some old cradle thing called ooblek? im not sure what that is but she says it does the same thing of responding differently to different types of pressure. I'm not actually sure what the fluid-solid called but alongside the neurolink and (Athena now too) it makes me feel like i am more an embodiment of Wallcreeper than just her pilot, because i can physically feel the impact of each blow or movement, which is helpful data but can leave almost an afterimage of the pain if i get hit? like a mental bruise almost? if that makes sense?

oh also i've noticed i experience a sort of phantom limb syndrome sometimes on dismount, especially if i've been in the cockpit for a good while, cause my brain gets used to computing how to move and balance with the extra limbs and so when i've just got the two again it can kinda mess with my co-ordination a bit (wears off though don't worry)

uuuh im not totally sure what everyone uses, but i know Thebe uses full body capture for her Tokugawa, cause she likes to feel like she's the one fully controlling every movement. I know Liza uses analog for her Tortuga cause she's an old-timer and i assume that's what Dido uses but i haven't actually seen inside her Blackbeard so i'm not too sure, and i don't know what Kanmi uses but i think it's closer to analog with a bit of neural for reaction speed and all that.

thanks for the question though! and hope you can stay out of trouble for a bit (im sure they deserved it but like.. be careful eh), i don't doubt you can hold your own (you look pretty badass) but like ya let your body rest at least.

sending you all good wishes and may the cosmic winds blow in your favour!

This is Ouroboros signing off!

Genuinely curious (Arthur wanted me to do something other then getting into fights for a bit), so I want to put out a question to all the other Lancers out there. What are the control systems in your mech like? I've seen a bunch of different ones and I want to know whats the most popular? Do you have a neural connection? Completly analogue controls? A full body motion capture system?

[saphiccarma]

Four Times Natasha carries you and one time you asked.

Summary - Natasha liked to flex by picking you up, however you don't often enjoy it.

Words: 3K

Warnings - Maybe a little sexual implications, but not really. Nightmares.

You inhaled a sharp breath, smoke filling your lungs as you ran through the building. Damn Hydra. Damn bombs. Heat burned on the walls around you, searing into your skin and bringing a hot flush to your face. Your legs burned as you searched for your team. Hand coming up to your com, you tried to get contact with any of them. All that came was static.

A piece of wood fell down in front of you, a rafter snapped in half by the flames. You jumped back, searching around for another exit. The fire pushed behind you and from the right, engulfing everything in its path. You glanced at the left, spying a window that was still shut. That would do.

The fire crept closer as you fiddled with the latch on the door. Your hands slipped several times, shaking with anxiety. Eventually, you managed to still your fingers enough to slide the lock and push the window up. Your back burned, the fire pushing ever closer.

Cautiously, you glanced at the window, gauging the drop. It was a good ten feet, and yet it was your only option. If only you had a suit like Tony.

Placing one foot on the ledge, and ducking your head underneath, you balanced precariously on the ledge. You took a deep breath, smoke filling your lungs once more, and shook out your hand that wasn't desperately clutching the edge. Slowly, you placed both hands on the ledge and lowered your legs and body down. It would lessen the height you would have to fall. The fire started lapping at your fingertips. You released the edge.

The impact shook you as you landed and dived into a roll, your shoulders aching from the force. You winced, your ankles burning and right shin absolutely covered in stinging pain, like needles piercing you through the bone.

A muffled cry escaped your mouth as your eyes watered. Smoke drifted into the sky above you as it escaped through the window you left open, the fire had mostly swallowed the building whole by now.

Hydra had sent the Avengers on a wild goose chase, leaving trails of evidence to a building in the middle of no where. You, Steve and Natasha were sent to investigate, and when you were sweeping the building, a small bomb was set off downstairs, igniting a fire that trapped you in the upper floor.

Natasha rounded the corner, having heard you hit the ground. She rushed over to you, kneeling next to you and gently taking you face into her hands - her gentle, calloused, hands. She examined your face, taking in the layer of soot that coated you, and your flushed cheeks that were slightly visible. With a soft look in her eyes, she placed a tender kiss on your lips.

"Did you jump?" she asked, her tone conveying frustration.

"Yeah," you mumbled, afraid she was upset at you.

Natasha muttered something in Russian, scooting towards your legs to carefully examine them. Nothing appeared wrong with them, but when she gently tried to move your right leg, you winced and flinched away. She pursed her lips, staring at your legs contemplatively,

You looked around, noticing that Steve wasn't around, "Where's Steve?"

Looking up Natasha met your eyes once more, "He's getting the jet."

You nodded, before firmly pressing your palms into the ground. Before you could push upwards to try and stand, Natasha shoved you down.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, tone just slightly angry at you now.

"Standing." you answered bluntly.

Natasha shook her head firmly, red hair brushing against her cheeks and wiping away some of the soot that coated them. You looked at her curiously as she moved to a crouching position.

"What are you doing?" you repeated her earlier question.

She didn't answer, but a small smirk crossed her lips as she placed an arm underneath you knees and another to support your back. In one smooth movement, she lifted you up. A shriek escaped your mouth as you struggled.

"Stop struggling," she ordered, "I'm going to drop you."

"Good," you glared up at her, "I can walk."

Natasha scoffed as she started walking away from the burning building, "No you cannot."

You pouted, but nestled your head onto her shoulder. A smirk formed on you mouth as you got an idea. Leaning in a little bit, you pressed a kiss to Natasha's neck. She sucked in a sharp breath, but kept her gaze straight ahead. Smiling to yourself, you gently bit at the same spot, before placing a soft kiss there.

Natasha glared down at you, her emerald eyes containing a silent warning. You grinned up at her innocently.

"Stop that," she adjusted you in her arms, "Wait 'till we get home."

There was a certain glint in her eyes when she said that and you felt a hot blush cross your cheeks, causing a soft laugh to rumble in her chest.

^______________________^

You sat on the couch, gently munching on some popcorn. Natasha's arm sat around your shoulders, holding you close as you rested on the spot between her jaw and collarbone. A movie played on the large screen TV, a horror movie. Damn Natasha.

The two of you had gotten into a playful argument earlier. It started with you talking with Bucky about movies, before he made a teasing remark about your jumping habit during scary movies. You scoffed, refuting the statement. Natasha chose that moment to chime in, her shirt hanging off her shoulder from when she just woke up, and said you really were scared. With a soft blush you denied the statement.

Hence your current predicament as you sat on the couch in Natasha's floor. Her head turned, a kiss pressed onto the top of your head.

"You scared yet, Dekta?" she asked, her hot breath fanning against your face.

"No," you mumbled.

And yet your body pressed further into her as suspense build and the music increased. Your hand fell out of the popcorn bowl and was now tightly clutching the fluffy blanket draped across the two of you.

"Are you sure?" she questioned again, and you could feel her eyes burning into the top of your head.

"Y-yeah."

The main character rounded the corner. The music went silent as the killer popped around the corner, knife in hand. The main character screamed as you jumped, a full body flinched. Your face burned as you heard Natasha's amused laugh.

She pressed another kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer, "You sure you're not scared?"

You pouted, a soft whine escaping your lips.

Another laugh escaped her, "Come here, dekta." She pulled you into her lap, securing her arms around you and pulling you against her chest.

"Hey!" You protested, despite the fact that you loved it, "I'm not a baby."

"Mhm," Natasha hummed, unconvinced.

"I'm not scared," you muttered.

Natasha ignored you, instead just pulling you closer into her chest as she hummed in content. The movie continued to play, and wrapped in Natasha's protective, if not teasing, embrace, you fell asleep. Natasha sighed lovingly and picked you up bridal style. Even asleep, you sighed happily and snuggled into her chest as she carried you to your room.

^______________________^

To celebrate his birthday, Tony decided to throw a party. He ordered everyone to show up and dress nice, with a particular glare towards you as you tended to dress casual to nice events. It wasn't your fault fancy clothes were uncomfortable.

However, this time as you moved to pull on your favorite pair of tight jeans, Natasha sauntered into your room, a dress in hand. Her green eyes roamed over you, a spark of interest in them. A smirk formed on her face as she walked over to you - still wearing nothing but undergarments.

"As much as I like seeing like this," she began, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, "I brought you some clothes."

You blushed at her words, a fire creeping up your neck and the tips of your ears. A beautiful laugh came from Natasha as she pushed a dress to your front.

"Put it on."

You scowled, glaring down at her. You were just a bit taller than Natasha. She looked back up at you with an expected eyebrow, perfectly manicured as always. When she first walked in, you were too flustered by your near naked state to notice her attire.

She wore a white blouse with puffy sleeves that silver buttons going down the center. Her blouse was tucked into a pair of flowy black dress pants. The black and white outfit brought out her red lipstick, not too bright and yet stunning all the same, and her emerald eyes that always seemed to sparkle.

Once again, Natasha smirked at you, giving you a small kiss before pushing you a little, "Go get dressed."

Scowling, you marched towards the bathroom, grasping the dress in your hand. You shut the door with a final glare at Natasha, who was still smirking at you. For a moment, you fumbled to get the dress on, but once you did, you saw why Natasha chose this dress.

It was a dress that fell just to your shins, with a slit going nearly to the top of your right thigh. While you normally thought red didn't work on you, this dress did. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if this dress truly worked on you. Natasha was normally the one who wore dresses and dressed up in this relationship, but she seemed to want to swap it around for once. With a deep sigh, you exited the bathroom.

Natahsa grinned, a radiant smile that you loved.

"You look beautiful," she grinned, taking your hand and dragging you towards the party.

That was how you ended up where you were now, in a drinking contest with Bucky. It was a stupid decision, you knew that, and based on the way Natasha rolled her eyes affectionately, she thought so too. But Tony bet you twenty bucks, so you really had no choice.

Bucky had downed at least ten drinks by now, and you had probably done the same. Your head swam and your words were slurred. As you downed a shot, you felt a an arm on your shoulder.

"I have a girlfriend," you slurred, turning to attempt to glare at the person.

The woman, with bright red hair and sparkling emerald eyes smiled softly at you, "I am your girlfriend."

You gasped, really?? She was the most stunning woman ever.

"Really?" you squealed, "You're so pretty." The last word was drawn out was you fell into her arms to make a sloppy hug.

She laughed, her chest rumbling as she held you up.

"Let's get you to bed."

"Noo," you whined, trying to shove away from her, but she held you tight, "I'm busy."

She shook her head with amusement but said nothing. Rather she scooped you up bridal style, placing a small kiss to your forehead.

"Goodnight Bucky."

"Night, Natasha."

The super soldier wasn't nearly as wasted as you. You squirmed in Natasha's hold with a whine. She shushed you, pulling you closer with orders to stop squirming. Pouting, you snuggled into her chest with a sigh of content. She was cozy.

"You're cozy," you mumbled.

Her chest shook as she laughed softly, smiling down on you as she stepped into the elevator.

You looked up at her, taking in her perfect cheekbones, the way her lips curved into a soft smile. Her red hair was wavy and shoulder length, touching the top of your head. Green eyes, the color of a forest, which had always shone when she smiled, stared down at you with adoration. She looked like an angel.

"You're so pretty," you offered her a toothy grin, "You're like an angel."

She laughed again, placing a soft kiss to your head, "Let's get you to bed."

^______________________^

You made sure to keep your footsteps soft as you crept towards your prey. The hallways were dark as you hefted your weapon, careful to keep your breathing even. There were no comns on this mission, leaving without backup for when you inevitably needed it.

Your heart thudded in her chest as you rounded the corner, taking in the dim room. Above you, the light was turned all the way down, casting a faint light as a show played quietly on the TV - forgotten for the sake of the mission.

Looking around, you searched for your prey. Your prey was your hunter all bundled into one.

A shriek escaped you as a pillow came into contact with your head. You ran with the motion, spinning around and swinging your own pillow at Natasha. The widow ducked. She smirked up at you and you ran, rounding the couch before frantically facing her.

The two of you did the classic dance around the couch. With her, approaching one side, and you moving in the opposite direction.

Natasha smirked, "Apologize." She ordered.

You gulped, brushing stray hair out of your eyes. Recently, she had been searching for her favorite hoodie, and when it turned out to be in your closet after you denied having it, Natasha was furious.

"I didn't know it was in my closet!" That was the closest you would get to pleading for mercy, but you would never apologize.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at you. It took you a moment to realize what she was thinking, and by the time you did, it was too late. She bolted around the couch, pouncing on you and tackling you to the floor. You fell with a thump, and she pinned you down.

You struggled, which in hindsight was useless, she was always stronger than you. Your wrists were pinned above your head and her legs were sat on either side of your waist. A faint blush appeared on your cheeks, only deepening her smirk.

"Apologize," she demanded once more.

Even though you knew you had lost, you shook your head. Natasha's grin should have been warning enough, but she dug her fingers into your side. Giggling, you tried to shove her hand away. She tickled your sides relentlessly, not letting up even as you begged for her to stop.

"Nat please!" you gasped, grasping at her wrists.

"Apologize." She paused for a moment, staring at you expectantly.

You pouted, looking up at you with pleading eyes. Natasha heaved a sigh, feigning annoyance, before digging her fingers into your sides once more. You squirmed, giggling.

"I'm sorry!" you shrieked between laughs, "Sorry!"

Natasha stopped, satisfied. She climbed off you after giving you a kiss. Holding her hand out to help you up, Natasha grinned victoriously.

"Come on," she said, "We have to get ready for dinner with Wanda and Vision."

You groaned dramatically, placing a hand on your chest and pretending to die.

"No," you moaned, "Just leave me here! I'm too weak to go on."

Natasha scoffed, "Get up."

You didn't respond, shutting your eyes and sticking your tongue out in a dramatic imitation of death. Then suddenly, you felt hands under your armpits and your eyes shot open. Natasha hefted you over her shoulder, ignoring your squirming and smacked your ass gently.

You shrieked, but giggled, nonetheless.

^______________________^

Natasha had nightmares; it was hard not to. While she had hers, you also had yours. Natasha tended to be silent, back rigid and muscles tense during her nightmares. You, however, fought. Thrashing and sometimes screaming.

Natasha was woken up by a solid thump on her back.

"Baby?" she whispered, turning around with bleary eyes.

Your legs were thrashing about as the blanket fell to the floor, sweat coating your face and dripping down your neck. Natasha took a sharp breath.

"Y/N," she said, harshly - it was the only way to get you to wake up, "Y/N"

Your fist flew out, nearly hitting her in the face. Carefully thinking about her movements, Natasha jumped to pin your arms down, her heart breaking when you whimpered and cowered away. She held your arms down on the mattress so you couldn't hit her and avoided your legs flailing about. She blew some air in your face, and for some reason that worked. It always worked for some weird reason.

Eyes snapping open, you jerked away from Natasha, scuttling towards the head of the bed to curl into a ball. Your breaths were coming in heavy, and Natasha wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and keep you safe, but she didn't know if you wanted that.

Frantically, you looked around the room, hands shaking. After a moment your eyes landed on her. A sob burst from your throat, and you launched yourself towards her, clinging to her and sobbing. You buried your head in the crook of her neck and wrapped your arms around her. Natasha smoothed down your hair, which had gotten wild during your nightmare. She pressed a gentle kiss to your head.

"You're okay!" you sobbed, breaths sharp and uneven, "You- you were dead! I saw it and I-"

"Hey," Natasha cut you off, planting another kiss on your head, "Look at me."

She cupped your face with her hands, pulling you away and forcing you to look at her. Your eyes were puffy, and your nose was red. You sniffled, leaning into her touch with a sigh.

"I'm okay," she muttered, tracing your cheekbones with her thumbs, "I'm okay and it was dream."

You sniffled once more, "Can you make me hot cocoa?"

Her heart broke at your fragile tone and how little you sounded.

"Of course."

Natasha got up to move, ready to set you down on the bed, but you clung tighter to her. Letting out a soft laugh Natasha looked down at you.

"You have to let me go, baby," she said softly.

"Carry me?" You pouted out your lower lip and peered up at her with wide, teary eyes.

Natasha sighed but picked you up as you wrapped your legs around her waist. She carried you to the kitchen on the floor.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too."

[explorevenus]

something permanent pt 14 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. i stg. do not interact or i will call the cops

reminder that this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon kennedy, kidnapping, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, pregnancy, non/dubcon

in other words, dead dove: do not eat !!! u have been warned and u are responsible for ur own media consumption.

chapter index: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13

'something permanent’: the spotify playlist

word count: 6.8k

description: leon and darling become parents at last.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, no use of (y/n), some gory descriptions cus darling goes into labor obvi, girl dad leon, corny dad leon, horny dad leon (no smut tho i'm sorry. she just gave birth idk what u want from me), medical setting, breastfeeding, manipulation, stockholm syndrome-ish implications, some angst but also fluff

a/n: !!! i hope this was worth the wait <33 big big big big BIG sexy thanks to @dollfacefantasy and @gigabyte-flare for beta reading <3 i don't really have anything else to say other than that i appreciate everyone's patience while i've been dealing with some pretty major life things and i just hope you like it. gentle reminder that the taglist has been moved to the bottom of the chapter to reduce clutter

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy !!

-venus ♡

It went without saying that Leon had seen a lot of gore in his life.

A whole lot of gore.

He'd witnessed gushing bullet wounds, gaping slices of undead flesh, pulverized bodies, genetically modified monstrosities exploding into even more horrific versions of themselves, only to be slain by his hand, often spraying back to douse him in the kind of fetid rot that couldn't be washed out, only burned, the kind that clung deep in his skin for days after... and yet nothing could have possibly prepared him for what it would be like to witness you going into premature childbirth.

Nothing.

You were in so much pain, you were hollering and crying so hard you could barely get a breath in, and apart from holding your hand, he was powerless to help you. It was gutting.

"Shh, shh... you're doing so good, baby, just breathe with me, just breathe," He said to you, trying to manage his tone to be as reassuring as possible, but the stress had long since become him.

How could it not? He was watching his own lover split apart while conscious, pleading with the universe to ease the pain, even with an 18-gauge needle in the spine. You were miserable, and you were terrified, and Leon was terrified too. Perhaps even more than he'd ever been, because this wasn't supposed to be happening yet. He was supposed to have at least another month and a half to pamper you and watch you grow, at least another month and a half to prepare for this. 

Not to mention he wasn't entirely fond of the swarm of nurses in your face and between your legs, the rotating door of doctors and specialists working on your exposed body with absolutely no capability of understanding how important you were to him, how special and sweet you were, how little you deserved this.

It did occur to him, in the midst of all the noise, that perhaps this was the wrong idea. That he shouldn't have forced the one person he loves the most in the world to suffer like this on his behalf. That maybe he'd made a grave mistake that he could never atone for, a mistake that would surpass anything he's ever experienced in its devastation.

But all of those fears crumbled to ash when he saw her for the first time.

Monday, December 21, 2015. Winter solstice. 3:36 a.m.

She was so pink. She was so, so small, so pink, and so angry to be alive, but she was alive and crying. She was alive.

In that moment, Leon experienced whatever the opposite of blacking out was, a shot of pure adrenaline down his spine that made everything shine a little brighter. He didn't even realize he was crying with relief until he turned and saw that you were, too. You were barely cognizant, what with the delightful cocktail of shock and panic and pain medication coursing through you, but you were conscious and aware— at least for now— limp with exhaustion aside from clutching Leon's hand for dear life while the professionals got to work sewing you up, and he couldn't help but swipe your slick hair away from your forehead to shower you in tearful kisses.

"My good girl... I'm so fucking proud of you," He spoke into your hair, pressing a heavy kiss to the crown of your head as his free hand cradled your cheek, holding you as close to him as he could physically manage. "I love you so much... I love you..."

You weren't really registering much other than the pure relief of it all, but Leon couldn't blame you. In his eyes, he just witnessed you creating his entire universe, and you deserved all the rest you could get. You'd certainly need it in the coming months.

And even just the coming weeks, as many as it might take for her to incubate and grow a bit.

She was alive, and she was as healthy as she could be, considering the circumstances, but Christ, she wasn't even done cooking yet. She was so little, weighing in at just three pounds, seven ounces, and she looked more like a gummy bear than a baby. She was hooked up to so many machines in the NICU that he could barely stand to even watch after a while, for his own peace of mind.

But he couldn't relax, either, so Leon just stayed at your bedside for most of the night, watching you sleep. Killing time. Occasionally he would wander off for a walk up and down the halls, or to the cafeteria for a bitter black coffee to jump his brain, or he would linger by the window into the NICU for a while to watch her sleep, to see her pink and yellow baby blanket just barely rise and fall with every tiny breath so he could know for sure she was really here. And then he'd repeat his rounds all over again.

The nurses promised him over and over again that she was healthy, that there was no cause for concern at this point, but that didn't really stop him from concerning himself quite severely. He wasn't even sure he understood his own metric for what it would take to get him to relax at this point, so he just stopped asking questions after a while.

Walk the halls. Bitter black coffee. Check on baby. Walk back. Check on you. Wash, rinse, repeat. Eventually the nurses were looking at him like they were debating offering him an Ambien under the table just to calm him down, and perhaps because he'd grown so used to avoiding drawing attention to himself, that was when he finally decided to just sit his ass down at your bedside and stay there.

In his boredom he found that the TV was perpetually stuck on the Hallmark channel, streaming from an endless well of corny, poorly written holiday movies that left more than enough to be desired, but it was better than nothing. Leon couldn’t stand the silence, and at least it kept his mind somewhat occupied while he thumbed through that heavy book of baby names.

He’d already found one he liked— Abigail— but that still left room for one more. He couldn’t even decide if he thought that should be her first name or her middle name. All he knew was what the book told him, flowery words describing the meaning of the name as that of my father’s joy, and that was quite true, wasn’t it? She was his firstborn, and more than that, her mommy was you. Nothing in the entire universe could possibly stand to make him happier or more joyous, and thus Abigail was fitting. But how was he supposed to find another name to describe her when he hadn’t even had the opportunity to get to know her yet?

Or was this secondary name his opportunity to start a thread of her destiny for her?

It’s not like he never asked you for your opinion, you had just chosen time and time again not to give it to him. You were almost completely impartial when it came to talking about the baby, so regardless of how badly he ached for your participation in planning for the life you’d created together, he had long since become bitterly used to making decisions like this on his own.

With a deep sigh Leon let the book rest in his lap, fingertips drumming on the wooden armrests of his chair in thought of the kind of life he wanted for his baby girl. All he could think was that he wanted her to run, play, and be happy. He wanted her to be good to the world and he wanted the world to treat her even better in return. He wanted to ensure she’d never have to worry about a thing, that she would grow up kind and quick and a much better woman than he ever was a man.

He wanted her to be gentle and sweet and protected, like a princess, his jubilant little baby princess.

Lifting the book once more, Leon opened it back up to its table of contents and skimmed over the lines for the millionth time, only now he actually had a vague idea of what he might be looking for. The book was structured in sections, the first being cultural and regional names, the second being historical and literary names, and the last section was an alphabetized glossary of them all in one. It was exhaustingly organized and comprehensive to the last detail, but hey, so was he.

Tracing the page with two fingertips, he found the historical section of the table and went down the line, skimmed over architects, artists, explorers, war heroes, religious figures… all the way down to royalty.

Leon’s hope wavered a little bit when he found most of the names under that section to be underwhelming or flat-out bad when paired with ‘Abigail,’ but his mind had been set on that for so long that he’d already decided he wasn’t budging on it. He was toying with the idea of taking a break from his search for the night, until an entry on the list of princess names caught his eye. In his exhaustion, he must have previously overlooked it.

Charlotte.

“Charlotte Abigail,” Leon mumbled aloud, testing the name on his tongue. “Charlotte Abigail Kennedy…”

It flowed from his lips like a beautiful waltz.

The enticing scent of Leon's umpteenth black coffee was the first thing you noticed when you woke up, followed by the dull, full body ache that weighed you down to the hospital bed. Your head was throbbing, your eyes and throat were stinging and dry from overexertion, but more than that, you felt something like relief.

Yes, it was definitely relief, because any amount of pain in that moment felt like reprieve in comparison to active labor. And maybe you were still a bit fuzzy from the meds, but you weren't complaining.

Slowly, you blinked awake and took in your surroundings, the room quiet aside from the occasional beep of electronic medical equipment, and the subtle, rhythmic rumble of... Leon snoring?

Tilting your head, you saw Leon right there at your bedside, coffee untouched and still steaming on the little tray next to him. His legs were outstretched, arms crossed at his chest, and he had his head tilted back with that comically large book of baby names split open to rest over his face, blocking the fluorescent lights and rising sun from his tired eyes. You just watched him for a moment, knowing he'd likely spent all night fretting over you until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

For as much as you would have loved to just lay there and enjoy the quiet for a moment, though, you knew it was probably wiser to let him know you were awake. At least that way you could talk him into forfeiting his coffee.

"Hey," you spoke up gently, your voice hushed with sleep and a bit hoarse, "I'm pretty sure the shop in the lobby sells bookmarks."

He jolted a little and then stirred, gravity pulling the heavy book down until his arm shot up to catch it and lift it from his face with an exhausted look of surprise. "Y-You're awake—”

"Gimme that," you interrupted, arm outstretched in a dramatic show of grabby-hands at the paper cup of coffee placed just outside your reach. You could barely even remember the last time you were allowed a sip of coffee, and having to lay here smelling it but not tasting it when you so sorely needed it was torture.

Leon blinked once or twice in confusion, clearing away the haze that clouded his frayed neurons, and as his eyes followed the path between your fingertips and the shitty cup of black coffee he'd fallen asleep before having the chance to drink, he couldn't help but puff out a little laugh, handing it off to you without hesitation. For fuck's sake, you'd earned it, hadn't you?

The cup had been sitting there idle for just long enough that its contents weren't blistering hot, but perfectly drinkable. You took a quick sip, and then another, nose scrunching up for a moment because it tasted more like a dirty ashtray than it did coffee, but somehow it still went down like liquid gold. At least the taste was enough to keep you from drinking it too fast.

"How do you feel, pup?" Leon asked, tracing the curve of your cheekbone with a delicate thumb. As joyful as it was to see you awake and in decent spirits, he had to ask, because it's not like you were just waking up from any old nap. He watched you split apart last night. He could still smell your blood. Surely you had more to concern yourself about than caffeine.

Setting aside the cup, you searched your mind for the right way to articulate how you felt right now, but found it exceptionally difficult to encapsulate what all was going on up there after giving birth for the first time. So, you decided to start with how your body felt and work your way through it from there.

"Sore, like a bowling ball went through me... but it's not unbearable. I think the pain meds are still working," you began, tilting your head to let your cheek squish into the palm of his hand. "I feel a little numb and groggy."

With a sympathetic hum, he nodded, leaning over you to smooth your messy hair back and press a kiss to your forehead. "I'm not surprised, baby, you do seem a bit silly. They drugged you up pretty good," he said, speaking from experience, "but at least you're not in too much pain."

A beat of surprisingly comfortable silence passed between you two as you finished waking up and Leon just stared at you, as he often did. While the air between the two of you felt thankfully free of tension, it wasn’t without anticipation, nor was it without the presence of that massive elephant.

You knew she was okay because if she wasn’t, Leon would be having a nuclear meltdown, but you barely even got to see her before you passed out, so you didn’t know how okay she was. 

“Where is she?” You asked gently, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“She’s in the little incubator, but they said they could bring her in here when you woke up, if you were feeling well enough,” he answered, looking up at you through his lashes like a pleading puppy as he asked, “are you?”

You felt a rush deep in your chest that you couldn’t explain, emotion, and you found that your head was bobbing up and down in a nod before you even thought about it. You didn’t need to think about it. Of course your feelings about your situation and this baby were… complicated, to put it kindly, but you spent seven-ish months cooking the damn thing, so you might as well take the chance to hold her and get to meet her, right?

Leon didn’t waste any time scrambling off to get a nurse, and as you sat there waiting, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to be like. You weren’t ignorant of the fact that newborn babies didn’t have strong features yet, but you wondered if she would have any hair on her head, or what she would feel like in your arms, or what little sounds she might make. The few short minutes it took for Leon to return with your baby and a couple of nurses felt like a million years.

The door opened, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your mouth dried and your eyes burned with tears.

She was so little.

Even swaddled up in a blanket, her tiny body was barely the width of Leon's forearm, her little head rested in the crook of his elbow while her socked and blanketed feet were tucked in the palm of his hand. Everything you felt in this moment was truly overwhelming— fright, nerves, and perhaps even a bit of pride, because come on. You made that thing. Willingly or not, you made your own little human, and in a removed context, that was crazy.

She was so little that you were almost afraid to touch her, trembling as Leon lowered her into your arms, but right away there was something about having her near that felt familiar to you.

Like an old friend.

For a long few minutes, you just cried. Deep, ugly, open-mouth cries that made your entire body feel weak. You couldn’t possibly get ahold of yourself, or even begin to understand how you were meant to.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon spoke gently into your hair, voice thick with emotion, “I-I named her Charlotte. Charlotte Abigail.”

Oh, how pretty. Internally you had to admit that he chose well, whatever his reasoning was.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” you sniveled, thumb caressing the thin, tender skin of her cheek, your chest throbbing as she squirmed and poked the tip of her tiny tongue out. “I-Is she okay? Are there any issues?”

The nurses calmly explained to you that she seemed to be regulating her temperature well enough on her own, but that the incubator was a precaution that would allow you and Leon the opportunity to get some actual rest. Her blood tests didn’t show any concerns and her oxygen levels were okay, but other than that, it was too soon to tell if anything else might be off, and they spared you the anxiety of getting too specific about the potential complications just yet. She would likely be spending at least 30 days in the NICU for good measure.

You, on the other hand, would be well enough to be on your feet as soon as the numbness wore off. That wasn’t to say it would feel good if you did, just that it was possible and wouldn’t kill you, though Leon would probably need to help you around for a few days… as if he needed the doctor’s order to do that.

Once they were sure you were healthy and comfortable, the nurses stepped out and for the very first time, it was just you, Leon, and your child.

“I’m so proud of you,” Leon whispered, watching you reverently. The sun had risen enough now to drench you in a saintly glow, your skin radiant and dewy with motherhood, your eyes glittering with tears as you gazed down at the sleepy baby cradled in your arms. “You’ve come such a long way, puppy, and just look at what you made for me. Look at what a perfect little angel you made for daddy.”

Letting out a slow breath from your nose, you resisted the urge to react to that. He’d done a pretty decent job of acting normal since you went into labor, and you didn’t realize how badly you were hoping he would keep it up until he ruined it with a brisk return to form. Perhaps the blame was on you for getting too comfortable with your expectations that high in the first place.

What felt especially unfair about it, however, was that his phrasing got beneath your skin more than you thought it would. Telling you that you’d come such a long way, and all because you made a perfect baby for him.

For daddy.

You’d only just had the chance to allow yourself to feel some kind of a bond with her, and Leon was already claiming ownership over it without a second thought. You wanted to snap at him that not everything was about him, that it wasn’t your goal to please him even if something you did made him happy, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it.

Charlotte hadn’t even been born for 24 hours yet, you couldn’t start fighting in front of her already.

You stood in front of the window with Charlotte swaddled tightly in your arms, letting her watch the glittery, falling snow outside in an attempt to calm her. She was red in the face and hollering with all the power in her little lungs— which was a lot, you’d come to learn— quite cranky about the fact that your milk was taking its time to come in. In defense of your boobs, the girls thought they were going to have eight more weeks to prepare than they ended up getting.

But at a certain point you just had to wonder when enough might be enough. You knew it wasn’t your fault, that your difficulty producing breastmilk so soon after going into premature labor didn’t reflect negatively upon your ability to love and provide for your daughter, so why did it feel that way? You were trying to keep ahold of your emotions for the sake of your daughter while wondering somewhere in the back of your mind if you were even fit to care for her, if it was your fault that she was starving.

“It’s common for newborns to lose a little bit of their birth weight in the first few weeks, especially waiting for mama’s milk to come in,” the attending nurse calmly explained to you as she changed the sheets on the bed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. There’s no guide to being a new mother.”

“Thank you,” you replied over the shrill cries of your daughter, letting some of the tension drop from your shoulders. Leon had told you nearly the same thing practically a thousand times over the past few days, but it was hard not to convince yourself that he didn’t know what he was talking about and was just spouting nonsense to make you feel better. It felt more legitimate coming from a professional.

Once she finished up changing the bedding, the nurse offered to take Charlotte for a while if you needed a break, but for right now, you didn’t really mind. Having her close was supposed to stimulate milk production, as you’d been told, and for lack of a better way to put it, you sort of enjoyed hogging her from Leon. He’d stepped out for the morning to check in at work and grab a few things from the house, so he wasn’t here to take her anyway, but you felt it was your responsibility to seize every available opportunity to bond with her. You needed her to know that you were there for her, that you weren’t budging, and that you never would.

Being alone with her was a treat. She really was so cute, just a teeny tiny little thing, and you could have already sworn she had your nose. She was pretty.

“Oh, Lottie, Lottie, Lottie,” you sighed affectionately, cupping the back of her head to cradle her close to your shoulder, gently swaying and bouncing on your feet. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

As expected, her only response was a continuation of shrill cries. Part of you worried that your presence wasn’t comforting her at all, but every time you slowed in rocking her or made any move that she perceived as you getting ready to put her down, she hollered louder and clung to you for dear life. Clearly she knew where her bread was buttered.

You crossed the room in slow, bouncing steps, trying to keep her distracted just long enough for you to sit down with her in the rocking chair. Little as she was, your arms were getting tired from holding her up, and you just needed a bit of a break from it. Pressing your lips to her soft forehead, you breathed in through your nose and began quietly singing to her.

“I’m… a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch,” you hummed, “I’m a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, and all I do is cry all day… boo-hoo, boo-hoo…”

It was an old, old song, and you weren’t even really sure where you remembered it from, but Charlotte seemed to enjoy it, and it felt fitting enough right now. Dragging in a breath, Charlotte reached up to rub her eyes with her chubby little fists, wailing cries beginning to soften down to weepy whimpers. It was victorious moments like this that almost made you forget how you got here.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Leon’s voice from behind, reminding you exactly how you got here, “how are my girls?”

Almost immediately, Charlotte started screaming again.

Sighing out an exhausted breath, you turned over your shoulder to watch Leon approach, trying not to let it show on your expression just how annoyed you were that he’d ruined her calming mood right after you managed to get her there.

“Cranky,” you answered him simply.

Leon clicked his tongue and moved to sit at the edge of the coffee table in front of you, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face with a sympathetic gleam in his eye. “No milk yet, huh?”

You shook your head.

“Oh, puppy… I’m sorry.”

The look on your face gutted him. He could tell you were blaming yourself in some way, feeling guilty for not being able to produce quite yet, but his mind wasn’t lingering anywhere near blaming you for this. You’d already been through so much just to deliver the baby— if anything, he’d be more surprised if these next few weeks were to proceed perfectly after that. You were a superhero to Leon right now, a goddess, and not even gods or heroes were exempt from hardship, from plain bad luck.

“It’s fine,” you said with a slow sigh, “the nurses swear we’re getting somewhere. There was some of this… I don’t know, like… clear, sappy stuff that came out this morning, and they said it’s good for her, so…”

Nodding gently, Leon took your hand and squeezed it, trying to get you to actually look at him. “Well, that’s a good sign, right?”

“I think so… I don’t know. I hope so.”

“I hope so, too, baby.”

A few moments of silence fell between you— aside from the screaming newborn, of course— and Leon continued to think about how proud he was of you. When he first brought you home with him, you were adamantly against the idea of having babies, let alone being pregnant at all. But you took it like such a champion, nourished and cared for your child anyway, his child, and even after going into labor unexpectedly early, your priorities and your focus still remained on her.

He couldn’t confidently say he’d have been as brave if it were him. That alone gave him a lot of reflecting to do.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Leon asked, squeezing your hand again. “Absolutely incredible.”

“I don’t know about that,” you puffed out a dry breath, finally looking up at him. “Women have been birthing babies for thousands of years. I’m no different from any of them, unless you count panic-attacking myself into early labor, and even then I’m not the first. And I definitely won’t be the last.”

Shaking his head in affectionate disagreement, Leon said, “As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t just hang the moon, you molded it with your bare hands. Just… take the compliment, pup. You deserve it.”

A slight smile graced your lips for just a second, like you briefly allowed yourself to believe what he was saying. As much as it pained him to think about, Leon knew you hadn’t been given a whole lot of incentive to take him at his word on anything, but when it came to the praise you’d earned for making him a father, for growing his baby in you, it was so important to him that you knew he wasn’t just talking out of his ass.

So he spoke up again, following his praises with a gentle, genuine question; “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

This gave you pause. He wasn’t wrong by any means— you absolutely were being hard on yourself here, in every way you could think of. The ways you’d been talking about and carrying yourself since he came home from San Francisco were indicative enough of that. It was like you were cowering from yourself, avoiding every part of you that made you you, like a mouse in a lab finally recognizing which buttons would shock you.

“She needs me,” you finally muttered, cradling Charlotte closer to your chest, even as she screamed your eardrum out. “She depends on me, I can’t just… fail her.”

“Fail her?” Leon whispered, encouraging you to continue.

Swallowing back nerves, you suddenly found you were having a difficult time making sense of what you’d been feeling lately, let alone putting it into articulate words. Still, you replied to the best of your frazzled, tired ability, “She was supposed to have eight more weeks… she wasn’t ready to be born yet, and I freaked myself out so much that I put her at risk. I’m so grateful that she’s okay, that it didn’t end badly, but Leon… it could have. It really could have.”

“I know,” he soothed. “I know it could have, but it didn’t. It didn’t. Look at her, she’s here and she’s alive and she’s healthy. She’s got strong lungs. She’s got your nose. She’s perfect, sweetheart, she’s absolutely perfect, and that’s not in spite of you, it’s because of you. I’ll repeat that as many times as it takes for you to internalize it.”

That framing of the situation was surprisingly insightful, coming from Leon, though you supposed he’d had some practice in forgiving himself over the years.

Sniffling, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “T-Thank you… daddy.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, and Charlotte began to settle.

You were so confused when you woke up in the middle of the night to Charlotte crying again— not because of anything she was doing differently, but because of how you felt. Sitting up in bed, you briefly glanced over at Leon to find that the commotion had roused him too, stirring him from a light sleep.

“I can get her,” he was quick to rasp out, voice clouded with grogginess, but for once, you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“No, no, wait,” you whispered, your other hand kneading at your sore chest in an attempt to soothe the discomfort, but this wasn’t the same kind of breast pain you’d grown used to by now. They were tender and full to the touch, nipples stinging under your nightgown.

And leaking.

Eyes widening, you shot out of bed with a quiet, excited exclamation of, “oh, shit,” not even taking the time to mull over how silly it seemed to be so ecstatic that your nipples were leaking milk through your favorite nightgown. All you could think about right now was her. You could finally sate her hunger.

Leon sat up too, rubbing his eyes and leaning over to turn the bedside lamp on, trying to wake himself up enough to understand what you were acting so urgently about. Only once Charlotte’s cries were silenced and replaced with a soft, greedy suckling sound did he realize what was happening.

“Oh,” he gasped, stunned, “shit.”

You just laughed, completely unable to wipe the stupid grin off your face. Feeding for the first time felt really fucking bizarre, but with how happy you were that your daughter was finally able to eat, you couldn’t bring yourself to care even slightly. That was far from the biggest thing on your mind.

“She’s eating,” you beamed, turning over your shoulder to look at Leon, desperate to share this moment with the only person who could truly understand your relief. “She’s eating, Leon, she’s— she’s perfect. Holy shit.”

“You’re perfect,” he smiled wide, crawling out of bed to join you where you stood by the crib, his strong arms slinking gently around your waist. Pressing a kiss to the highest point of your cheekbone, Leon whispered in your ear, “I knew you could do it, puppy. I love you, I love you both so much.”

And now you were crying. You couldn’t help it.

Charlotte fed for a good long while that night, gulping down every stray drop she could find, and you and Leon just watched her in complete awe. She could barely keep her eyes open in her satisfaction, long lashes fluttering angelically upon chubby cheeks, her squishy little lips bobbing back and forth with every suckle as you both cooed at her and cheered her on.

Wiping away a drop of milk from her chin, Leon preened, “Oh, little Lottie… such a good eater, princess, my goodness…”

“Such a good eater,” you echoed, adding playfully, “must’ve gotten that from your daddy. He gets grouchy without breakfast, too.”

“Hey now, it is the most important meal of the day,” he pointed out to his own defense, very much in on the joke, though he couldn’t help but add another cheeky point that was reserved only for your ears. “Well… the second most important meal of the day, right behind dessert.”

Groaning, you rolled your eyes at him, “Cornball. You’re a horny, horny cornball.”

He only smirked, “Guilty as charged, pup,” and kissed you again.

Your mood improved a lot over the next several days, and Leon was so grateful for it. The timing couldn’t have been better for squashing your insecurities about being able to care for Charlotte. Waking up to feed her wasn’t something that stressed you out anymore, it was something that made you feel useful and needed, which you always were, but now you truly believed it. Leon joked more than once that he’d never seen you happier to whip your boobs out at any given time.

You were eating well, you were laughing, you were getting lots of good rest, and you were actually talking to him. Like, talking talking, not just nodding your head and pretending to follow along. You told him about your day, you told him how you were feeling, you commentated on TV shows together. Your unanticipated stay in the NICU was turning out to feel a lot more like a dream than a nightmare, and as such, he was almost reluctant to see it end.

But time marches on, as it always does. Part of him worried you’d go right back to being difficult once you were home and the novelty of new parenthood wore off. Part of him wanted to trust that you wouldn’t, because you truly understood everything now. Didn’t you?

The final week of Charlotte’s monitoring was dwindling down, and now that he wasn’t so preoccupied with worrying himself sick about you both, he couldn’t stop thinking about what you said to him before you went into labor.

‘Daddy, I have to tell you something.’

Whatever it was, you never told him. In the chaos of everything that happened right after, he almost forgot you even mentioned it, but it’d just been gnawing at him since the dust settled.

Leon wasn’t sure how to approach this with you. Talking about it clearly distressed you last time, even though you brought it up on your own, and he didn’t want to risk setting you off, but the intensity of emotion it brought was undoubtedly indicative of its importance. By principle, you should tell him if there’s anything he needs to know, right?

Maybe it wasn’t all that important. Maybe your reaction at the time was just a product of your condition, the hormones and anxiety, and maybe you hadn’t even thought about it since that night. Maybe it really wasn’t a big deal.

So why had it been so obviously eating you alive during the final leg of your pregnancy?

“Baby?” Leon asked quietly, tilting his head to look at you. It was three in the morning and you were laying in bed together after Charlotte finally fell back asleep for the millionth time, partly trying to get some more rest and partly preparing yourselves to have to get up again at any moment. But it was peaceful, and he hoped that would mean you were calm and comfortable enough to have this conversation.

Humming in acknowledgment, your eyes met his. He had his arm around you, thumb caressing you at the waist, your cheek against his chest. It was now or never.

“I’ve just been thinking lately… the night Lottie was born, you said you had something to tell me,” he began, pouring all his effort into coming off as non-threatening as possible, careful not to spook you. “The little lady interrupted you and I never got to hear what it was. Do you remember, sweetheart?”

At first you couldn’t move, completely paralyzed in his arms. Your initial inclination was to panic, of course, but for once in your life, the nerves weren’t manifesting like they probably should have been.

Or, rather, like they definitely should have been.

You resumed breathing, biting your lip while you tried to organize your thoughts and come to a decision. It would be a tough shot to lie right now, you knew that, and while you would have usually tried to come up with a convoluted way to worm yourself out of this, for some reason, you didn’t even really feel the need to right now. Leon had been in a great mood. You were pretty sure he hadn’t stopped smiling since Charlotte was born, and even leading up to her birth, he had been acting so gentle and loving with you.

But you still needed to cover your bases if you were going to be honest with him.

“Do you remember saying that whatever it is, we’ll handle it? That I wouldn’t be in trouble?”

Uh oh, Leon thought to himself, but didn’t dare let it show on his expression. That’s not a great start.

“I do,” he nodded encouragingly, “and that still stands.”

All you had was his word, and that was going to have to do, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, you tightened your arms around his middle as if preemptively pleading for mercy, and then you quietly admitted, “I-I broke the rules while you were away on that mission.”

He figured as much while speculating on what it might have been, so this didn’t really floor him too much yet. “Okay. What rules did you break?”

You hesitated for a beat, looking away to collect your thoughts and then back again, hoping he could see the guilt in your eyes, the regret.

“I went outside,” you whispered, feeling an awkward and unpleasant heat burning at your ears— shame. “I-I went on a walk, a long walk, and…”

Now it was Leon who wasn’t breathing. “And?”

“And I tried to get h-help.”

There it was. You tried to get help. Help. As if you needed any fucking help when you had Leon.

But then again, he thought, she didn’t have me. I wasn’t there.

His bottom lip quivered until he bit it back, stooping his head down to bury his face in your hair, hiding, both arms holding you tightly to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He thought he was prepared for anything you might have to confess, but this… this was devastating. This felt awful.

“God fucking damn it, puppy,” he wept, “what were you thinking?”

The realization that he was crying made you tear up too. He wasn’t angry, he was anguished.

“I-I’m sorry… I know, I’m sorry—”

“Did anything happen? Did anyone see you? Did anyone touch you?”

“No, no, n-nothing happened, no one touched me, I promise—”

“Don’t you ever do that shit again,” he sobbed weakly into the crown of your hair, clutching you to him like you’d fall apart if he let go, or perhaps like he would fall apart. “Do you hear me?”

You just nodded, stifling your cries with a hand over your mouth to keep from waking the baby. She was sleeping so peacefully in the crib a mere few feet away.

“I hear you, I hear you, I promise I won’t ever do it again… it was freezing and I was so scared, I… I couldn’t get home fast enough…”

Home. Was that what it was to you now?

“Good,” Leon said firmly, but not apathetically, sighing out a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t just have yourself to worry about anymore.”

You and Leon were practically tangled with one another, stuck together like glue as you desperately tried to soothe each other. Silence fell around you again.

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