#but at least you now what you get and can abort at any time

[fettuccin-e]

Right Here, Right Now

Kinktober Day 2: Public

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl omg please), public sex, fingering, its just desperate sex with Mig in an alleyway lol (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: I have actually had this as a WIP for a long, long time but I modified it to fit this prompt! Glad to finally get some use out of it. Miguel can and will always have me in a chokehold I love him so so much. (I am following prompts from this list by flightlessangelwings!)

You’ve both been apart for too long, far too fucking long. Always away on missions without each other, falling asleep without each other and leaving again with only a quick kiss goodbye, nothing more.

It’s got Miguel a little stir crazy, desperate, and you’re just the same way. So, on the odd mission where you’re actually together, you don’t protest when he crowds you against a brick wall in some dark, dank alleyway, and kisses the god damn life out of you. It’s intoxicating, mind-melting, and fuck, it’s not enough for either of you. 

Miguel growls against your mouth, reaching a clawed hand to the seam of your suit, and rips it, exposing the wetness of your aching pussy to the cool night air. He cups you without any finesse, just pure need, and you gasp wetly into his kiss.

“Miguel,” you whine, but you can’t stop your hips from humping forward into his hand, “we can’t— we can’t, baby, they’re going to start looking for us, oh fuck, they’re gonna see—“

“Shh,” he coos, “just real quick, real quick, sweetheart.” His chest heaves, so broad and thick and clouding your vision as he rubs quick circles into your achy clit with a calloused finger.

“Just- just let me feel you, just for a second, please, baby, mi amor, por favor, tan perfecta, te necesito,” he mumbles, lost in it, and you find yourself nodding along with his words.

He whines at your permission, and you barely manage to utter a “just for a second, just a second, Miguel,” before his suit dissipates around the bulge of this thick cock, and he’s sinking into you, pressing so fucking deep he forces the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes into the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering forward as he stretches your pussy around him. “There’s my perfect girl, my beautiful girl, fuck, fuck, missed this pussy so bad, baby.”

It’s hard to breathe like this, Miguel pressing you into the brick wall, curling around you until all you know is him. All you know is the way his scent invades your lungs, the way his fangs graze your throat just barely. The way he pulls his hips back, just a little bit, before shoving forward again, bullying his thick cock so fucking deep inside your little cunt. You can’t get out the words, the sensations all too much for you to bear. There hasn’t been any prep, anything to lead up to you taking Miguel like you usually do. 

No, there's only the adrenaline coursing through your bodies, the desperation stemming from being apart for far too long, and the ache of him settling deep, deep inside you. It’s where you both belong.

So you stutter out aborted little whines of “Mig- Miguel,” and “so-so big,” between overwhelmed sobs into his strong body as he holds you, impaling you on him again and again. He’s mumbling, incessant and slurred as he fucks you into the brick, something about how hot you are, how wet and tight and about how he can’t wait to get you home, how he’s going to fuck you for days. It’s all so hard to understand, you’re not even sure that Miguel knows what he’s saying, if he even wants you to hear all of the deep, dark thoughts spilling from his overwhelmed mouth.

Your body burns, the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing at your clit so perfect, so right. It’s all slick and wet and you’re sure that you’re dripping down his fat cock as it slides in and out of you, dripping down his balls. You can at least thank God that his suit isn’t made out of actual fabric; that he won’t have to return to HQ with your wetness staining his front. Not that he’d really mind.

It’s intoxicating, the way he fills you, surrounds you. So much so that you don’t realize how much time has passed until you hear Jessica’s voice from both of your watches, cutting through your whines and Miguel’s growls and the lewd sounds of your bodies meeting. “O’Hara, what’s your position?”

“Fuck,” he snarls, driving into you just a little faster, a little harder, “fuck, not yet, not yet.” He doesn’t respond to Jess, leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that mostly contains teeth and spit.

“Mig-Miguel, they’re going to be looking, c’mon, baby, we’ve got to g-” you hiccup into his mouth, but your hips move of their own accord, meeting him thrust for thrust as he drives desperately into you.

“Not. Yet.” He growls, punctuating his words with his hips. “Just a little longer, little- little longer, jus’ let me-” he fucks himself into you, so furious and devastating that tears finally manage to spill from your eyes.

“Spiderman 2099, what is your position?” Jessica asks again, and you can hear Pavitr ask you the same thing from your watch, both oblivious to the fact that their leader, your leader, is fucking you into the wall in some dirty back alley in a universe that neither of you know, that neither of you care to know. All you know is Miguel’s body against yours, exchanging desperate breaths as he thrusts deep into your sticky pussy, curling your hands into his hair as he digs his fingers into your waist, his claws nearly tearing the fabric of your suit.

“Miguel,” you moan, “we have to go, please we have to go, they’re looking for us, they’re gonna see-”

“No,” Miguel whines, and you want to fall to your knees with how absolutely devastated he sounds, “can’t- you can’t go, ‘s too soon, baby, let me have you, let me have you,” he’s slurring around his fangs, his eyes burning red at the edges as his eyes meet yours. He grabs at the watch on your wrist, cutting it off with a deft claw, and you choke on your spit as he crushes it easily in his palm. 

“Miguel-” you start, but he cups a thick hand over your mouth, and you can only watch as he raises his watch to his face and says, far more collected than he’s been this entire night, “Anomaly neutralized, returning to HQ. Meet tomorrow for a debrief.”

“Not tonight?” Pav chirps, and Miguel ruts into you hard, his gaze burning into yours.

“Tomorrow.” He growls, before he shuts his watch off completely, tucking his face into the crook of your neck again, sucking dark marks into your skin. His hands find your hips once again, pulling you onto his cock over and over and over as tears slide down your cheeks, choked little moans ripping out of your throat.

“That’s right, beautiful, squeeze this cock, make a mess for me. Can’t wait to get you home, going to fuck you all fucking night, needed this sweet pussy so fucking bad, bebita, por favor, ah-” he groans into your skin, and his cock sinks into you so perfect, stretching you exactly how you’ve needed it for so long, and fuck, your orgasm nearly makes you black out. You thrash against the wall, crying out so loud that Miguel has no choice but to seal his mouth over yours in a sticky kiss, swallowing your noises. 

“Fuck, that’s right, make a mess for me, eres tan perfecta, mi amor, mi vida, fuck,” he fucks into you, once, two more times, before he’s following you over that peak, his hips twitching as he fills you up.

You both can only rock against each other for a minute, riding the aftershocks of bliss. How had you gone without this for so long? How could you have deprived yourself of heaven?

“Let’s go home, Miguel,” you whisper, resting your forehead against his. He nods, switching his watch back on and opening a portal behind himself. He slips out of you, his suit reforming over himself. You, unfortunately don’t have the same luxury, the night air still cool against your used and achy core. 

“You’re making me a new suit, by the way,” you say, tilting your head up to smile at him. “And a new watch.”

He only chuckles, lifting you into his arms, turning to walk you both into your shared apartment in Nueva York, where you haven't been together in too damn long. “Anything you want.”

#hes just so big i need him to bang me against a wall #i love him sm i get so depraved talking about him #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv smut

[aperrywilliams]

From Now On (Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader.

Summary: After faking his death for seven months, Spencer is back just to find out you’re eight months pregnant. After the initial commotion and your denial, you both step into the apartment you used to share. Things have changed and you must talk about it.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Talking about gunshots, blood, hospitals, faking death, pregnancy symptoms, potential abortion. If I missed something, let me know.

A/N: I’m back! I don't know for how long, but I needed to do something to fight my writer's block. This story can be read independently, but it is the second part of Seven Months.

-----

The cab ride to your apartment is mainly silent. Your head is tucked into Spencer's shoulder as he rubs your back from time to time. His nose is buried in your hair, inhaling your scent. God, he had missed it so much. He had missed you so much.

And he missed so much of your life in the past seven months. And that scares the shit out of him.

How would he fit into your life now? Does he have any right after faking his death and not telling you anything?

Rossi and Morgan told him you would understand eventually. That you would forgive him for doing this to you.

And maybe you are really considering. Maybe that’s why you went for him to Derek’s in the middle of the night.

Spencer wants that more than anything, but he feels like he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.

Now you both are in front of your building complex. The one that used to be his too.

Spencer knows the concrete walls are the same, but they don't feel like they are.

It's a strange feeling. A feeling that gets stronger when you open the apartment door.

Stepping inside, he knows this is where he used to live, but it doesn't look the same.

The shelves are no longer full of his books. Gone is his globe and coins collection that usually laid over the desk. There are just a couple of pictures of him with you on the wall. The decoration is different. Did you paint the place? Spencer is almost sure of that because it looks brighter than he remembered.

He's silent, inspecting everything around him. The walls, the bookshelf, the furniture: all changed.

After you take off your coat and hang it on the rack, your eyes follow him.

You know what’s going on. You have known Spencer for so long. Even if you thought you lost him, you still can read him like a book.

“Hope isn’t look too bad. I needed to, you know, make some changes?” you explain, not sure how to put the last months in words. Spencer turns to look at you, guilt written over his face. He knows what your words imply and remorse eats him alive.

“I - I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sure it's not enough to erase the hell you have been through since he were gone. Since they told you he was dead.

“I know.” Your response is short but not because you don’t have things to say. It's because you don’t know how to start. “Uh. Would you like some tea?”

It's the safest path. The one you both usually have taken the times you had fought and then try to speak it off. It's different this time, though.

Spencer hesitates. In other circumstances, he would agree and sit on the couch to talk. But it's late, the day has been a rollercoaster and you are eight months pregnant. He knows you should be sleeping, or resting at the very least.

“Maybe it's better you go to bed? It's late and you must be tired,” he points, nervously fidgeting with his hands, his gaze shifts between your eyes and belly.

“Honestly? I don't think I could sleep tonight even if I try,” you confess, moving to the kitchen to put the kettle.

”I don't think I could sleep either,” he admits, following to the kitchen. He wants to help, but he doesn’t want to look like an intruder in your space. A space that it’s not his anymore. Noticing Spencer doesn't know what to do with himself, you invited him to take a seat on the barstool.

“It will be ready in no time, don’t worry.”

You are the one who endured months of grief from your fiancee, carrying his child, and you are the one comforting him. Spencer thinks it's not fair.

In silence, he looks with raptor fascination at the way you move around the kitchen. It's delicate and calm. You have a glow that captivates him. You don’t realize his gaze until you turn to put the mugs over the counter.

“What?” you question softly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, eyes entranced in you. You laugh, shaking your head.

“Come on, Spencer. I look like a mess. This belly reaches everything minutes before I can. It's huge! I can barely walk decently. Look at my hair! And my skin. It's sticky all the time.”

As you ramble about why isn’t accurate to call you beautiful, Spencer stands from the stool and rounds the kitchen counter to step in front of you. He wants to reach for your hands that you’re waving in the air to emphasize your point, but refrains. He’s still unsure about initiating physical contact. He rests his hands on the counter and clears his throat.

“I can certainly say it's not the way you are used to feeling. But the way I see you right now? I see beauty, power, and life. It's light what I see on you.”

You don’t know when tears started to roll down your cheeks. But hearing the adoration in Spencer’s words only spurs you to let out your emotions.

“You know my hormones have been doing a number on me, right? You’re not helping,” you complain, chuckling. After handing Spencer his tea, you take yours and walk to the living room.

You carefully sit on the couch and reach for the blanket in the back to cover your lower half. Spencer mimics your actions, sitting as well on the couch, but at a safe distance from you.

A silence envelops the room. Your hand plays with the strands at the end of the blanket, and your eyes scrutiny Spencer’s face. He looks tired, with prominent circles under his eyes, and stubble for days of no shaving.

He is analyzing you too. Even if your eyes denote exhaustion, he can see the strength that makes you look put together despite everything that has been going on.

He can see the protectiveness too. Rubbing your belly in soothing motions, shielding your non-born child from the unknown, the uncertain.

How much he would have given to be the one who could have protected you and the baby from the first minute.

“I guess you have questions,” you prompt. “But I have mine too, so if you don’t mind,” you trail off and Spencer understands what you want. He nods, preparing himself to answer whatever question you have. After a pause to collect your thoughts, you start to speak again.

“What really happened in that warehouse? Why you didn't let me go inside with you?”

You are talking about the day Spencer was shot and beaten for the unsub. The day he ended up at the hospital just to be declared dead hours after.

“I thought if we didn't split we could lose him. We were so close so many times. I thought it was our last chance. It never occurred to me it was a trap. That he wanted me there alone. I just didn't see it,” Spencer swallowed hard, remembering that day. You stayed in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“I heard his voice telling me he had you, and I panicked. So I ran to him. I let my guard down. When I realized he was lying it was too late.”

“But you launched at him. Why didn't you try to stall him first?” You asked, leaving your mug on the coffee table, feeling the suddenly urge to protect yourself with your arms around you. You never talked about what really happened with anyone. Not even to Hotch when he questioned you during the FBI investigation of the incident.

The way Spencer reacted with the unsub is something you never understood. The profile said the unsub was a guy who liked to show off, so trying to incite him to do that while waiting for backup would have been reasonable.

“The way he laughed. Maybe sounds stupid, but- I saw the resolve of an end game, and not like the typical bragging-end game, it was an evil-end game. He had the upper hand and he knew it. If I didn't do something first, he would have gone after you. And I couldn't let that happen. I didn't count on the hidden gun, though. Another mistake,” he breaths out.

You remember like it was yesterday rushing to the warehouse after hearing two gunshots. Once inside you saw Spencer lying on the floor, in a pool of blood.

“You were there and I didn't know what to do,” you recount your side of the story. “It was the worst nightmare. I screamed for help and it felt like an eternity before someone came to us. And your eyes-” You stop for a second, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “You - you were saying goodbye and I wasn’t ready.”

Your resolve from earlier seems to crumble as you revisit what happened in that warehouse. Tears are now rolling down your cheeks, and you bite your bottom lip to stop their quivering.

Spencer wants to hold you, but he’s afraid of how you would react, so tentatively rests his hand on your knee. You are shaking and he’s worried this conversation could do more harm than good.

“We can stop. You are not feeling okay,” he points out. But despite Spencer's apprehensions, this conversation must happen now.

“I need to get this out of my chest. Please, let me do this. I know you need it too.”

Spencer knows you are right. You both need this.

“Do you remember anything after the shots?” you ask, and Spencer thinks for a moment.

“I remember being there, the sharp pain in the chest and my ribs. But most of it is a blur. I remember seeing you there. Crying. God. I hated seeing you cry. I think you held my hand?”

You nodded. “I was so scared, but with you there, I wasn’t anymore. The last thing I remember it’s the guilt of not saying I love you for the last time. I really thought it was the end for me,” he admits, his own tears blurring his sight.

“It was for me, though,” you mumbled, a sad look in your eyes. “I mean, I still had hopes when you were moved to the hospital, but deep down I knew I shouldn’t have had them. And everything shattered when JJ came to the waiting room and told us you didn't make it.”

A heavy sigh escapes from Spencer’s lips. Neither JJ nor Hotch had told him how they let it know the team he was ‘gone.’

“I can’t even imagine - It was unfair to you. And I know no matter what I say it won’t make it better.”

Your thoughts wander to the moment after you heard JJ saying Spencer was dead.

Disbelief. Pain. Denial.

And then, days of numbness.

“You know. I just shut off. I have some flashbacks. Rossi hugging me; Hotch telling me to take all the time I needed; Morgan crying with me.”

It feels weird to recall those memories as yours, like an alternative universe that turned different at the end.

“Where did you go?” Spencer asks. The thought of you in the apartment alone after that breaks his heart.

“Emily took me to her place because I couldn't put a foot here. I stayed with her for a couple of days. She helped me a lot to get through this,” you recognize. And for that, you will always be grateful to her.

You also tell Spencer about how the whole team helped you to make it through the days. Some kind of relief washes over him knowing you didn't face it alone.

He can’t fathom how difficult it was for you, also knowing you were pregnant. And about that...

“When did you find out?” He asks, eyes darting to your belly. You follow his gaze trajectory and a little smile creps on your face.

“Almost a month later. I was feeling sick all the time. Emily pushed me to get checked. They took blood tests and stuff. When they told me I couldn't believe it. For me, it was a twisted joke,” you admit, hanging your head low.

Spencer dreads asking the next question but you already know what is, so you keep talking.

“Yes. I had thought about it. I didn't feel in a good place to be a mom, Spencer. I barely could make it through the days. And having a baby? Fuck, just thinking about it was too much.”

You tell him about how you cried your eyes out. How lost you felt for days. The doubts about the future, but above everything, the protectiveness that aroused in you once the idea settled. Yeah, you couldn’t keep Spencer safe, but you were determined to save the part of him growing in you.

“And seven months later, here I am. About to give birth to our baby,” you conclude, lovingly rubbing your belly.

“It’s weird, you know?” Spencer begins. “The last time I saw you and now. It feels like I lost time. And I know I lost it. It’s just - I never expected to see things so changed. I don’t know how I fit here. What I’m saying doesn’t make any sense right now-” he trails off, darting his gaze to the fidgeting hands on his lap.

He’s been holding back. You notice. Since you both crossed the threshold he has been afraid of invading your personal space, of touching you. Now it makes sense.

“That's why you have been keeping your distance from me?” you ask. Spencer’s eyes quickly flash to you. Guilt is written on his face.

“What?”

Your gaze soften seeing him so stressed by being caught. It's true the past months have been tough for you, but they have been tough for him too. And to see a before and an after so different probably has him reeling.

“Since we put a foot in this apartment you have kept a safe distance. I’m not judging you, I really don’t. I just want to know what’s on your mind right now,” you explain, shifting on the couch to change your position. With an eight-month belly is difficult to be comfy in any position.

Spencer sighs. There are so many things revolving inside his brain that it’s not easy to put them in words.

“When I woke up in a hospital bed in Bethesda, the first thing I looked for was if you were there. But I was alone. A strange feeling squeezed my chest. For a moment I thought -” he pauses to take a breath. “I thought everything had gone wrong and the unsub had hurt you or the team, or both. I was about to freak out when a marshal came and explained to me what happened.”

Spencer recounts how the agent told him about his new destination and how this assignment was for an undetermined time.

“Since then, not a single day passed without the urge to take a plane and come back. To you. But what if I messed up putting you at risk doing so? It was insane to know I was dead for you and I couldn't do anything to fix it.”

“That's why you wrote the letters?” Spencer nodded. In a notepad, he wrote a letter to you every single day since he landed in Paris. He handed you the notepad at the BAU this afternoon before you stormed out, completely shaken and confused.

“I needed to put in words each day without you. I needed to tell you I was there, even if you never could read it.”

His shaky breath forces him to take some seconds to compose himself. You took that as your cue. Shifting again, you scoot a bit closer to him and reach tentatively for his hand, and he clings to it as if his life depended on it.

“And I’m here right now. And so do you,” you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’m as scared as you are, but we need to do something to get through this. If it is something you want to do,” you add. Spencer's glassy eyes find yours.

“It's all I want. Maybe it's hard for me to understand I can’t fix something like this, but I want a chance to make us work again. I know I can’t get back time, but if you let me I want to gain back the place I lost the day I gone.”

Spencer’s free hand flies to your cheek to wipe with his thumb the tears you haven’t noticed are falling.

“We can start with something,” you prompt, reaching for a folder resting at the coffee table. After opening it, you produce a bunch of ultrasound pictures and hand them to him. From the first appointment you had, to the last one from a week ago.

Spencer’s eyes sparkle with excitement, seeing every detail and the way the baby has grown in the past months.

Tears fall freely and there is pure emotion that fills his heart.

So many nights you both spent talking about what it would be like to have a baby. How wonderful it would be to see them grow. About what traits they would inherit from each of you.

You smile at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. It feels so good to see in him the same excitement you have. You both wanted this. And until today you thought only you would get the chance to experience it.

After inspecting and committing to memory each detail from each pic, Spencer’s eyes find yours again.

“Do you know the baby’s-” he trails off. He’s unsure, maybe you didn't want to know or want him to know.

You have known the baby’s gender for a while now but have not told to anyone. From the same folder, you extract an envelope you offer to him. With trembling hands, Spencer takes it and gets the paper from inside. Scanning the words he realizes it is the information of your baby’s gender.

“It's - it's a girl,” he reads aloud with a cracking voice and more tears in his eyes. You nod, your own tears clouding your vision.

“Yes. Do you remember when we talked about having a baby and you told me you wanted a girl? When I found out the gender, I thought about how happy you would have been,” you sniffle, and Spencer reaches for you, now wrapping you in a loving embrace.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he repeats over and over, kissing your temple. You close your eyes, losing yourself in his chest, inhaling his scent.

You stay like this for a moment. Contently in each other arms. Spencer still can’t believe he got the chance to hold you again, and you are still assimilating the day’s events. It's unbelievable how everything changed in less than twenty-four hours.

“I love you,” he mumbles in your hair, a hand moving to rub your belly. “And I love you,” he says now, talking to your baby.

“We love you too, Spencer,” you respond, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped, and we will never stop.”

Parting from your embrace, you get lost in each other's eyes. Communicating without words what this moment means to both of you. Cupping your face, Spencer leans to find your lips with his in a loving kiss. You kiss him back, pouring all your feelings.

It's a new promise of love.

After breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Will we be okay?” he asks, almost in a whisper.

“From now on, we will be,” you assure him. It feels like you are telling this to yourself too. Maybe you do. Everything still looks messy right now, but life is giving you a second chance, and neither Spencer nor you is willing to let it go.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angt #spencer reid hurt/comfort #seven months #from now on #amanda perry williams #aperrywilliams

[tipsyleaf]

Having a baby with Leon (Accidental Pregnancy)

Cw: Talks of sex but no actual sex, talks of abortion, and alcoholism

Vendetta Leon who meets you in a shitty bar one night. He brings you home on a whim to his pigsty of an apartment. Fully expecting you to go running immediately but you stay. Clearing a place off on the couch and talking over beers.

Vendetta Leon who's shocked when you ask for his number after waking up together. Curled up on the couch, cuddling someone for the first time in forever. Enjoying someone's company again instead of shutting people out.

Vendetta Leon that actually sees a friend in you. Knows you're good for him but feels like he doesn't deserve good with everything he's had to do to survive and protect people.

Vendetta Leon who tries keeping you at arms length. Labeling this as a friends with benefits situation. Nothing more. The first time you sleep together tends to replay in his mind a lot. Seeing how beautiful you were. How hungry you were for each other. How both of you seemed to aim to please. It was nothing short of perfection to him.

Vendetta Leon who gave you a key to his place without even thinking about it. It just be easier for the both of us. Or so he claims. Knowing he could easily just keep you away from his apartment, it's not like you didn't let him come over whenever he wanted. But no matter where you were home was with you. Even if he couldn't admit it.

Vendetta Leon who starts getting more and more stressed from work. Sees you almost every night and one thing always leads to another. Tipsy, buzzed or sober. It's been like this for months and he loves seeing you so frequently. But his brain keeps telling him he'll just mess it up if he tries moving past what you have right now.

Vendetta Leon who gets called away for work again. Needs to go off and save the world for the millionth time. Tells you he'll miss you while he's away. He didn't mean to, it just slipped out. But he doesn't take it back, he just waves it off. More concerned about how you said you weren't feeling well when he got to your place. Deciding to stay the night and just cuddle before he leaves in the morning.

Vendetta Leon who comes back from New York City. A bit paranoid because you haven't returned any of his texts or calls. Hoping something bad didn't happen while he was away. Walking into his apartment he drops his bag in shock...

Vendetta Leon who stares at a spotless apartment. Everything back in place where it should be. He finds a letter and your key on the coffee table. The letter saying how you can't deal with this anymore and you couldn't say goodbye without at least giving him a gift of a clean home and hopefully a clean conscience.

Vendetta Leon who gets upset, trying to call you repeatedly. This doesn't feel like you. Did you find someone? Did you not actually care about him the entire time?! You shared so much with each other, he trusted you enough to let you in.

Vendetta Leon who slams his phone into the couch as his calls go straight to voicemail. Something's wrong... He can tell. He knows you well enough that you wouldn't be ghosting him like this without a reason. So he decides, against his better judgement, to just go over to your apartment.

Vendetta Leon who decides to knock until you open the door, he's a stubborn man and wants answers. The door opens, an older man glaring at him.

"Yes?" He didn't expect you to have company over. Who the hell is this? Have you actually found someone in the span of a few days? Was he really that replaceable?? His attention snaps back, the older man staring him down. He stutters out your name before clearing his throat.

"Is she here?"

"My daughter's at the doctor's with her mother right now." Oh, this is your father. Thank God. "She should be back soon."

"Is everything okay?" The older man sighs, rubbing his eyes, he looks tired and agitated.

"It better be, she's carrying my grandchild."

Leon who feels his heart fall through his body. You're pregnant... And he's definitely the father. There's quite literally no way he isn't, you've been spending almost every waking minute together in the past 6 months unless you're the next virgin Mary.

Leon, the father of your child who listens your father ramble about some bum knocking up his precious babygirl... He bites his tongue, asking your father to PLEASE make sure you call him.

Leon who sits in his clean apartment with not so clean conscience. Feeling the dirtiest he's ever been before. How could he be so stupid and careless? The few times you didn't use protection he'd thought nothing would happen. He knows you take birth control. It's got a high success rate, he wouldn't have to worry. It's not like he didn't want kids, he even liked loved the woman who'd be blessing him with a child.

This could be his last chance of normalcy.

Leon who nearly throws himself towards his phone when it vibrates. A text from you. Announcing that you'll be coming over.

Leon who feels his bones vibrate seeing you for the first time in days, the glow on your skin more obvious that he knows you're carrying his child. You look beautiful, though you always look beautiful.

"Look..." You storm past him into his own apartment. He shuts the door behind you and follows you to the couch. "I knew you'd freak out if I told you... We're both kind of fucked up I didn't want-"

"Are you keeping the baby?" He's blunt and to the point when asking his questions. He always is.

"I don't know... The doctor said I'm probably only a month along." You look so unsure of yourself. "What... What do you think I should do?"

"Keep them." Your eyes go wide as he smiles softly.

"What?"

"Keep the baby... I want it. I want you. If you'll have me." You stare in shock, blinking as he steps forward and brings you into his chest. "Did you think I would freak out and bail?"

"Leon... We're both heavy drinkers and we've been dancing around each other since we met. I figured cutting you loose was the best option."

"Well, then we'll just have to clean up our acts together I guess... For ourselves and the baby."

Leon who reassures you you can both grow. Put in the effort of fixing yourselves. Together.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil x reader #🌿 ivy writes #🌿 ivy replies #leon s kennedy

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 4] Car Ride

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Talks of Abortion

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji tries to hand you the bouquet of flowers, but you don’t take them from his hands. Your eyes linger on them, and while it’s a beautiful arrangement, you don’t want to take them. For some reason, you feel that if you take them, he’ll believe you’re accepting to try and work things out which you aren’t willing to do. Even though maybe you should.

You turn your head when you see Shiu drive off, and you roll your eyes. Toji clears his throat and he assures you, “I’ll drive you home.”

“I have to buy a mattress.” You inform him, and he slowly nods his head. He doesn’t mind, you guess. You still can’t help but ask the question, “What about your job?”

“I can leave early, it doesn’t matter.” He responds, and you sigh. Suddenly he can leave early but when you begged to have a date night, he was always busy. He’s putting in so much effort now, effort that he should’ve put in before you decided you were going to leave. “Do you wanna go do that now? We can talk while we go shopping for that.”

“I guess…” You search around to see if you find Shiu’s car in the distance. You don’t really want to talk to Toji, but you also have no other way to go home other than by walking or taxi. Plus you need his help right now. You look around to find his car, and you find it a long way down the road. 

You begin to walk to his car, and he follows behind, running so he can open the door for you. You don’t thank him when he does, you just get in the passenger seat, and you side eye him when he doesn’t shut the door. He throws the flowers on your lap and when he shuts the door, you toss them to the backseat. When he gets into the driver’s seat he asks, “Why don’t you want the flowers?”

“What’s the point of them? Aren’t we getting divorced?” You respond, and he tries to take a deep breath. He turns on the car and pulls out of his parking spot, driving somewhere. You know this route, and it’s not where he’s supposed to take you. You don’t speak about it, it’s your own fault. You weren’t seriously expecting Toji of all people to be cooperative, were you?

“Shiu told me you got a nice little apartment…” He speaks up when he stops at a red light. You hum in response, not really trying to engage in a conversation. You lean your head back, resting it and shutting your eyes. You just want this to be over. Never in your life did you expect to dread being in a car next to Toji. The love of your life sits next to you, and you can’t wait to get out. To run and never have to see him again.

You open your eyes and see that you’re not driving back to Toji’s apartment. He’s taking a detour. At least you won’t have to take a taxi. Your eyes shift to him, his eyes are focused on the road. His hands clench the steering wheel while he bites down on his lip. His eyes finally glance at you, and you avert your gaze to the road that’s in front of you. “So um… What do you do?”

“Nothing cool.” You answer. You hear him exhale. Maybe he’ll stop asking dumb questions to fill up the silence. You’ve gotten accustomed to a quiet car ride, every time that you tried to speak up you’d be shot down. You don’t understand why he’s trying to change now– He already signed the papers. 

“Will you still show up for Megumi?” He asks, and you take a moment to think about it. Should you really? Toji constantly reminded you that you weren’t Megumi’s mother in any way, why should you try? But even then, you and Megumi grew close and formed a bond. Megumi shouldn’t have to pay for his father’s mistakes. You don’t give him a definitive answer though, simply an,

“I’ll try.”

“Why are you like this? Can’t you see that I’m trying?” He finally snaps, making you scoff. You cross your arms, debating if this is even worth engaging. He just wants a reaction out of you. Something that is longer than two words. “I’m just thinking that you wanted a divorce because you’re seeing someone else. If you actually loved me, you would at least try to work this out.”

He succeeds. He gets the reaction that he wants. You’re seething with his words and you yell, “I’ve been the only one trying this entire marriage, Toji! Not even these past two years, our entire relationship! Do you think I just came to this decision overnight? Do you think just a couple days of you trying will make up for five years of your neglect? It’s funny that you’re the one talking about cheating when you–”

“Here you go again with the same fucking shit! That happened years ago and you don’t let me forget. You should’ve just left me then!” He raises his voice as well, frustrated with this whole situation.

“Then why the fuck are you so upset that I’m leaving you now? Tell me, Toji. Like this you won’t have to hear me complain about it!” You respond, and he has to pull over into a plaza to park. It’s best if you get out here and call a taxi. You’ll order a mattress online, and sleep on the floor for the time being. When he puts the car in park and the doors unlock, and just as you’re about to open the car door, he locks them. You hate his car because his side is the only one that has controls to lock and unlock the car.

“That was years ago… I’m trying to become a better man, please. Give me a chance.” He sounds vulnerable, and part of you wants to comfort him. You love him more than anything and anyone, you’re willing to work it out. But for your sake… And for your baby’s sake, you have to leave Toji. He claims that he’ll be better but he won’t. 

“How long will it take for you to go back to being him? The same man that couldn’t even care to share how his day was when I asked him. You claimed that you’d change a couple times, Toji. You did change for a couple of days, but you always went back to your cold demeanor.” Your voice is breaking, and you can’t afford to start crying in front of him. You won’t let him see you so weak again, “I’ve seen the way you looked at her, and I want someone to look at me the same way. I deserve that. I know that you can’t be that same man for me, and I’ve come to respect that. The same way I want you to respect me leaving. I don’t want you to reach out to me just for the sole purpose of getting back together. We need time apart.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to think of what he’s going to say next. He won’t admit that he’s at fault for all of this. Toji shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He tries to be rational– To be the mature adult that he’s supposed to be. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “I’m going to unlock the doors. If you get out of the car, I won’t talk to you ever again. All I can say is good luck in your life.”

“That’s not possible.” You mutter, but he hears it loud and clear. Are you insinuating that he’s a weak man? That’s what he’s hearing at the very least, and Toji hates it.

“What are you trying to say? Are you saying that I’ll come crawling back to you? That you’re irreplaceable or something like that, because I have some news for you–” He raises his voice and you feel the tears well up in your eyes. You swallow the lump that comes to your throat before you yell,

“I’m pregnant, Toji! That’s what I’m trying to say, I’m pregnant.” You watch him as his eyes go wide, his breath getting caught up. You’re waiting for him to say the worst, knowing that he doesn’t want this. “I don’t need your help though. I’ll be fine. If you don’t want a part in any of this, then when I exit the car, you’ll be dead to me the same way I’ll be dead to you.”

A smile comes to his face, and you feel sick. You know he isn’t happy that he’s having a baby. You want to fool yourself into thinking that he is, but you know he’s not. He doesn’t care about that. He’s just thinking about– He grabs your hands and brings them up to his lips, kissing them gently before he puts them around his face. “Please stay. For our baby.”

He’s thinking about trapping you. Like this you won’t leave his side. He’s not thinking about all the what ifs and the struggles that come with pregnancy and a child. He doesn’t want this for the right reasons, and you hate it. His face inches closer to yours, and he’s about to kiss you but you pull away.

“Open the car door.” You tell him, your voice stern. His brows furrow.

“We have to talk about this.” He says, and you shake your head. You have to take a deep breath so he doesn’t hear your voice. You don’t want him to hear you on the verge of tears even though your watery eyes are the dead give away.

“No, you think that I’m going to stay with you because I’m pregnant. But I’m not. I don’t have to rely on you.” You respond. 

“Why don’t you just get an abortion then?” He asks, and that’s when the tears that are in your eyes fall. He bites his tongue, quickly regretting the words that just left his lips. “I mean… If you’re so set on being alone, do you really want to have my baby? You know that means we’re stuck together in a sense.”

“No it doesn’t.” You wipe away the tears that managed to escape. You try to reach over to unlock the car door, and when you manage to unlock it, he doesn’t waste a second to lock it back up. He pushes your hand away. “Just forget that I told you anything. You don’t want another kid, and I’m not forcing you to be a father. I can be a mother by myself.”

“For how long have you known?” He questions, and you take a deep breath.

“I just found out.” You confess. 

“And you decided that you’re going to be a single mother? Do you know how fucking hard it is to raise a child by yourself? You haven’t even thought about it for a day.” He points out. You bite down on your lip and think about what you’ll say next.

“I mean… I handled all of Megumi’s issues myself even when I wasn’t supposed to be a parent. And I got used to the idea that if I ended up pregnant, you’d end up leaving. So I don’t really need to think about it more.” You share, and he scoffs.

“You really think I would just leave you?” He questions and you stay silent. That’s his response. “I would’ve never done that to you.”

“I don’t know Toji, you made it clear that the idea of having kids with me was a nightmare and that you only had money and time for Megumi.” You remind him, and Toji finds himself speechless. You sigh. You really hate this. “I’m telling you because it’s my duty. If you want to come around, great. If you don’t, also great. Me and my baby will do just fine.”

“It’s my baby too.” He says. “I guess… You should do whatever you think it’s best. But if we’re not getting back together, you should get an abortion.”

“I’m not doing that, Toji. I’ve always wanted a baby, and this is my chance.” You respond, even though part of you agrees with him. “Just… Let me out.”

“I’m getting you that mattress and then taking you home.” He replies. You take a deep breath watching as he switches the gear to drive. “Then we’re going to talk about this.”

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

[chryblossomjjk]

midnight mistakes | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING: m/18+

⇢ WC: 2.5k

⇢ WARNINGS: v brief sm*t, v slight angst, oc is sick rip, pregnancy scare putting their relationship to the test eep!!!, brief mentions of abortion (reader considers it)

⇢ SUMMARY: a midnight romp with jungkook leads to tears on your cheeks and a pregnancy test in your hand

⇢ NOTES: i miss writing sm so here's a lil drabble of our otp :') school has been v overwhelming lately and it makes me so sad that i don't have as much time to write on here anymore. hopefully, things will calm down soon. for now, enjoy this crumb!! i love you all, let me know what you think!! if you haven't read the series yet, pls read that before this if u want to!! this wasn't beta'd so i apologize for any grammar issues or typos rip

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

The sequence of events that landed you in this situation; having a teary, heaving breakdown in front of your bathroom mirror, was absolutely ridiculous, to say the least.

“I’m gonna kill someone,” you squeak, breathless from the endless stream of sneezes ripping through you. The glow of the alarm clock on your nightstand reads 1 a.m. as you reach for a tissue. Violently blowing your nose does little to ease its congestion. With a shaky sigh, you crumple the sodden napkin and toss it into the bin beside your bed; overthrown by contents alike. The wet ball hits the paper mountain before rolling onto your pretty pink area rug.

You shiver, how fucking disgusting. 

A stressful week of labs and quizzes has tanked your immune system, making you susceptible to all the little germs and illnesses that strike when the brisk winter air transitions into the pollen-laced breeze of spring. The antibiotics you were prescribed did little to help your runny nose and sore throat. Pausing the anime playing on your phone, you open your messages. 

dumbo love you, get some rest please xx

So much for getting rest. You weren’t expecting a text back. Jungkook had offered to spend the night, but you encouraged him to go. It was his last semester after all. Still, you were pouty and needy, wanting nothing more than to snuggle into his arms and let the swirls of his delicate fingers on your back lull you to sleep. Instead, here you were, confined to your bed, watching Naruto solo as Jungkook, Tae, and Mina lived it up; taking shots until they were belligerent. 

A distinguishable knock rattles the door before you can press play again.

“What are you doing here?” 

Jungkook stands in your doorway, oversized black tee hanging over his equally oversized green cargo pants. His cute little mullet falls in sweaty loops around his face. “Still feelin’ like shit?” He coos, cringing at your disheveled appearance and the croak in your voice. Ignoring your question, he holds up the various items in his big hands. “I picked up a few things; cough drops—not the cherry kind ‘cause those are fucking nasty,” you laugh at the side note, “—extra spicy ramen and hot sauce to clear out your sinuses.”

Your peer at the array of remedies with wide eyes. Their ability to cure your flu symptoms is questionable. You don’t even have a way of boiling water to make said ramen in your cramped dorm, but the sentiment has your chest swelling with something other than a violent cough for the first time in days. Abruptly, you pull him into a tight embrace. 

“Ah, I see,” he laughs, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and walking you back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. “My Bambi missed me.”

“I did,” you nuzzle into him further, “but you shouldn’t be here… you should be having fun with your friends.”

“Nah, fuck ‘em,” he retorts playfully, putting the quote-unquote medicine down and then plopping onto the bed, taking you with him. “Besides, what kind of shit boyfriend ditches their sick girlfriend to go to a party anyways?”

“The kind that should be enjoying his last semester,” you frown. 

“I am, though. I enjoy spending time with you more than anything else.”

As he lays under you, black tresses splayed against your white comforter like a misshapen halo, you feel so incredibly lucky. Gently, you run your fingers through his choppy bangs, pushing them out of his doe eyes. “Have you been drinking?” 

“Not really, just a couple shots of Fireball and a few beers.” That much alcohol would have knocked you on your lightweight ass, but after years of beer pong and keg stands, Jungkook’s tolerance was damn near Kage level. It took a lot more than that to get him drunk. “I kinda…” he averts your gaze, something he does when he’s sad or guilty. “I felt really bad so I left.”

“Jungkook, I told you it was okay.”

“I know,” he nods, sliding a warm palm under your shirt, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing lines. “But I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Using your fingertip, you brush an eyelash off the apple of his cheek. “Thank you… for coming back for me.”

“Of course, Bambi.” He leans up and presses a deep kiss to your dehydrated lips.

“Kook, stop,” you mumble, craning your neck back. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“I don’t care.”

It doesn’t take much convincing. If Jungkook doesn’t care, why should you? 

What follows is a battle of warm tongues and the needy clash of his bunny teeth against yours. Tender touches coax your Sailor Moon pajama set to the floor with the promise of Jungkook’s delicious love. Before you know it, you’re sinking down onto his hard length, fingers digging into his shoulders as he slouches against your headboard.

“Take it all,” he whispers, jaw slacking as he tilts his head down, getting a clear view of your wet cunt swallowing the remaining few inches. A slick film coats the two fingers he used to hold himself up for you as your lip pillow around the base. “Yeah, just like that.” His face contorts in pleasure, overcome by your warm, slippery walls after a week of illness-induced celibacy. “Feels good, huh baby? Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

He wants praise and dirty talk, but the tickle in your nose makes you pause, bracing yourself as a slew of sneezes pours out of you. Eight sneezes to be exact. Jungkook’s high-pitched cackle is drowned out by a shriek as you cup your hand over your leaking nostrils. “EW!”

“Shut up, it’s fine!” He grabs a tissue from the nearly empty box. “Lemme see,” he mumbles, pulling your hand down and wiping it clean, then doing the same to your face afterward and tossing the kleenex in your glittery pink trash bin. 

“I’m sorry,” you peep, completely mortified.

“Don’t worry.” The crooked bunny grin eases your nerves. “That was fire, actually. You clenched around me so tight.”

You squint at him and then bury your head into the crook of his neck. You make love to each other; slow and gentle. At one point, Jungkook locks his tattooed fingers in between yours, pecking your bare shoulder as lazy drags of your hips bring you both to writhing climaxes. And he looks so beautiful when he climaxes, gnawing at his lip piercing, skin dewy from sweat and the moonlight shining through the blinds. 

At that moment, you felt nothing but love and pure ecstasy. 

Isn’t it funny how pleasures of the past can create complete devastation in the present?

Clutching the edge of the porcelain sink, you stare down at the pink box of pregnancy tests. There’s tear stains on your cheeks. A pain in your lungs from all the sobbing. You wish Jungkook had been a shit boyfriend that night. You’d give anything to take it all back. 

Like a sixth sense, there’s a distinguishable knock at the door. 

“Hey, I-” he stops short, brows furrowing as his dark pupils scan your face. “Have you been crying?”

“What do you think?” You shouldn’t snap at him, but the waves of anxiety washing over you make you highly sensitive. Truthfully, you weren’t going to tell Jungkook any of this. His showing up had put an awful wrench in your plans. Well, unless the test came back positive. Then, you’d be forced to tell him. You clamp your hand over your mouth, the thought making you sick to your stomach. 

“__, take a deep breath. Sit down.” You do and he follows suit. “What's going on?”  

“I-” you gulp, swallowing back a whine, struggling to form a coherent sentence. There’s no escape, you have to confess. “I think I might be pregnant.”

There’s an eerie silence once the words hit the air, lingering over you both like a dark, dreary cloud. It takes Jungkook a moment to internalize the weight of the situation, but you can tell when the thunder strikes. The pink tinge in his cheeks fades to a stark, sickly white as he inhales shakily. “Fuck-” Leaning his elbows against his knees, he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, shielding them. “I thought you were on the pill.” 

“I am, but I was taking antibiotics last week and I read that they can make birth control less effective- and I’ve been having symptoms lately.” It all comes out in a jumbled mess like word vomit. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move. And it scares you. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Despite his posture, his tone is still and calm. “I just… don’t know what to say. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as the floodgates finally burst. You were still in the swell of your STEM program. Jungkook is just about to graduate with a Bachelor’s in photography. Both of your lives would come to a screeching halt if the worst were true. You weren’t ready for a baby, not in the slightest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, don’t-.” Finally, Jungkook sits up, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. The other arm repeats as he rests his chin on top of your head, rocking your shaking frame back and forth for comfort. “Don’t apologize, don’t cry. Why don’t you take a test before we start freaking the fuck out?”

You suppose he’s right. 

The walk to the bathroom is a blur. Suddenly, you’re on the toilet with that evil stick in hand. Jungkook is sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, knees bent and head leaned back against the wood of the cabinet. Normally, you’re extremely pee-shy. It literally will not come out. Under these circumstances, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“You pee so softly,” Jungkook says through an airy laugh. “I pee really hard- and fast. Like-” he makes a little whooshing noise with his mouth, “like a hose.” 

“Baby, please,” you huff, setting the test aside and pulling your sweats up. You know he’s trying to ease your nerves, but this is one situation where his lighthearted jokes and comments ceased to make you smile. “This is serious.”

“Trust me, I know.” Spreading his legs, he pats the carpet between them. “C’mere.” As soon as you hit the ground he’s embracing you, trailing kisses all over your exposed skin. “What now?”

“Now,” you sigh, setting a timer on your phone for three minutes, “we wait.”

“You know… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it’s positive.”

“It would be absolutely awful, Jungkook.” It’s a sweet sentiment but you know he’s lying, right through his bunny teeth. Late-night conversations in bed about the future ring in your head. ‘Honestly, I don’t think I want kids,’ Jungkook had hummed in the middle of My Neighbor Totoro, ‘ever.’ Generally, you felt the same way, but the memory is terrifying in this context; sitting on the bathroom floor with him, waiting for an answer that could contradict all of your plans and possibly crumble the entire foundation of your relationship.

“Who am I kidding?” He chuckles humorlessly. “You’re right, it would be fucking awful.”

Nervously, you toy with the silver rings on his inked fingers. “What if it’s positive, Jungkook?”

“Let’s just wait until we get the results.”

“But what if it’s positive?” You twist in his arms, showing him your glassy eyes and deep frown. Showing him that his answer, regardless of what the test says, was very important to you. 

He blinks at you, lips opening and then closing promptly as he mulls over his words. “If it is… then we’ll take care of it.”

There’s a dual meaning to the sentiment that makes you chew on your bottom lip, eyes flickering up to the white ceiling to stop yourself from crying. Take care of it as in going through with it? Or take care of it as in… the other option? Honestly, the latter would be your first choice, and you’re sure it’s his as well. But for whatever reason, the fact that he assumed it makes your heart ache. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means whatever you want it to mean.” Gently, he smooths a hand over your trembling thighs before they frantically search for yours. “Just… whatever you want to do… whatever you want, I’ll support it… I’m here.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in releases in relief. You feel stupid for even questioning him. After all these months of unconditional love, you should know better. Bringing your locked hands up, you kiss his fingertips. The smile it brings out of him is just as soft as your touch. “I love you so much.”

“I love y-.”

He’s cut off by the blaring ring of your timer.

“Please, can you look?” You mumble, shaking your head and covering your eyes. “I can’t do it.”

You feel his torso twist against your back as he reaches for the test on your countertop. The time between him grabbing it and the dreaded answer feels like an eternity.

“Negative.” 

“Thank fuck!” You groan, doing a complete 180 and wrapping your arms around his neck in celebration. You haven’t felt this type of excitement since you were a child, waking up on Christmas morning and seeing colorful presents under the tree.

“What made you think you were pregnant in the first place?”

You hesitate to respond. In retrospect, it’s not as valid of a reason as you originally thought. “I’ve been feeling sick in the morning.”

Pulling back, Jungkook deadpans you. “Bambi, no shit. You’ve been sick all week.”

“I know but,” you pout, twirling a ringlet at the nape of his neck, “google said I could be pregnant…”

“You’re so fucking lucky you’re cute,” he laughs, holding you flush to him and nipping your cheek playfully. “You’ve got to be the most dramatic person I’ve ever met in my life.” You know he’s joking, but the comment makes your expression drop a bit. “But that’s part of the reason I love you so much. I’m never bored with you.”

Once again, you truly don’t know how you got so lucky. 

“Alright,” he huffs, using all of his strength to haul you up into the air and walk you back to your bedroom. Instinctually and habitually, you wrap your legs around his cinched waist. “We finished Avatar last time, so what’re we watching tonight?”

You click your tongue in contemplation. “Naruto.”

“Naruto? Bambi, isn’t Naruto like- a billion episodes long?”

When he tosses you down onto the mattress, you pout and bat your long lashes at him, pulling out all the provenly successful manipulation tactics. “Please?”

“Fine,” he grumbles, plopping down beside you. “But don’t be mad if I knock out.”

And like clockwork, Jungkook dozes off in the middle of the second episode, but that’s okay, because despite how horrible the pregnancy scare was, it truly solidified Jungkook’s presence in your life. You have all the time in the world to watch hours and hours of subpar filler episodes, and you’ll do it happily as long as you’re with him.

© chryblossomjjk 2023 [do not copy, translate or repost]

#bts #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bangtan #jungkook fanfic #jungkook series #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #bts imagine #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you

[apocalypse-shuffle]

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

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“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, crying?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Ma. God, no one called you that anymore. The way your eyes begin to prickle is a clear indication.

With you Dick wasn’t the type. Once he’d worked himself up to it he’d called you mom; slightly different from the few ways he referred to his bio mother, but something shared between the two of you all the same.

And Tim? Well he wasn’t your child plain and simple. Tim still had his parents for one, and for two he was intrinsically Bruce’s. By the time he’d figured his way into the Batcave you’d been gone, most of your shit moved out of the manor, and desperately waving divorce papers Bruce refused to acknowledge in the air. You didn’t have anything to do with his indoctrination outside of exactly one instance of him finding you to ask if you’d reconsider the separation. Some Batman needed a Robin and Bruce Wayne needed his wife type shit.

Either way Tim didn’t call you any rendition of mom because you weren’t his. The most you got was him addressing you by your maiden name and then eventually your first and you were content with that.

Then if he didn’t call you mom, the girls sure as hell didn’t either. Outside of Barbara the others never even became regular conversation partners. Cass was a rare sighting in your life and Stephanie and you’s relationship would never progress past the casual advocacy you tried giving her because she was another dead Robin to add to what’s now technically a list.

At the end of the day, out of all the people who considered you a mother, only Jason added that ‘a’ and you wanted to grip that name tight and hold it to you. Break your ribs open and force it into your chest cavity. The need to fulfill that ache cuts deep and you take a step forward.

Jason startles though, undoing all his own forward progress, and you falter. That’s right. Jason didn’t like for people to touch him. Definitely didn’t like hugs either. Not surprise ones at least. Before his death you’d gotten close enough he didn’t mind when you swooped in, but now?

“Can I-? Can I hug you?” You press trembling lips together for another horrible swallow. “Please…?”

Jason jerks, two hastily aborted movements at once, before his obstructed voice meets your ears.

“Fine.”

You practically fall on him before pulling him into you. Unfortunately he’s just as stiff as his voice and you have to take a second to figure out how to slot against him.

Jason fits in your arms differently than he used to - broader and taller by a mile - but after a few beats he relaxes into them just the same. The subtle addition of weight makes a sob bubble up your throat.

You rap your knuckles on the side of the helmet.

“Take this shit off.”

He hesitates and a sharp pang manages to worm its way into the already shitty cocktail of emotions you’re feeling. It hits your spine like lightning, forces you up and has you an arms length away in half an inhale.

Maybe before now you’d been going through too much all at once for the trepidation to hit, but it was hitting now. You’d never seen Hood without- well without the Hood. Only Jumbie raised from the dead the way Jason did, and while you’d take your son anyway you could get him you wouldn’t accept some Thing parading around in his skin.

Reading your burst of movement for what it is, Jason backtracks, rising arms dropping to his sides. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Jason Peter-” you inhale deeply, catching yourself, and hold a hand up to stop him. You both ignore the obvious way it trembles. “-only… if…if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything.”

He’s slow to nod, weight shifting from his left to his right leg and back again before he says something too low for you to hear. You’re about to ask him to repeat when he speaks up, this time aiming his voice somewhere around your shoulder while bowing his head.

“No, I- Alright. Just hold on.”

Haunches suitably raised and heart in your throat you pay close attention as the helmet comes up, Jason having released some catch in the back.

It goes over, the helmet clatters to the ground, and the man who stares back at you is…hard to place.

The low fluorescent lighting of the narrow room combined with the concrete walls casts soft enough shadows over his face that while his features are warped they’re not discernible. Which means you can’t completely rule out the uncanniness wafting off of him as just your brain (along with your entire perception of the universe) splinting in half.

It makes your face heat up. He looks familiar, but you can’t say you wouldn’t have passed him straight if you’d seen him on the street. He’s too big for one, even for how you’d all imagined he’d look grown up, standing more than a foot taller than the last day you saw him. Taller than malnourishment would’ve ever let him be.

The sob you let out makes you both flinch.

One hand snaps to your mouth, the other waving him off.

“I’m sorry I- I don’t-. This is just-”

Even with the way he’s leaning away from you he shakes his head. “I get it, it's fine.”

His voice is faint, cut up and hoarse like he hasn’t used it in a while, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve heard in ages.

“Oh,” you laugh. The wet kind that makes your throat sticky. You can only stare at him, blurry form and all, words lost to you.

Eventually, after watching your fervent effort to wipe away tears that are in no way inclined to give you a break, arms crossed Jason takes a half step forward with a shrug.

“We can…try again?”

The next little laugh you let out you practically choke on but you nod all the same.

When Jason’s the first to move your heart starts speeding away like an overexcited middle school drumline. You roll with it though, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes so they’re dry enough for you to actually see him clearly for a few seconds.

When he’s directly in front of you your hands come up slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to move away. Or maybe to vanish.

When he does neither, only giving you a guarded look, you allow yourself to touch.

Problem is, the domino mask he’s wearing very quickly gets in your way and on your nerves when you move to frame his face. Quickly feels like if it’s not gone, if you can’t see his eyes, you’ll throw up.

To stop yourself from taking the risk and ripping it off you have to take a deep breath. Have to force down the thick build up of saliva gathering in your mouth so it pushes back the bile climbing up your throat.

“I’d like to see my son, Jason. All of you.”

To emphasize your point you tap the tip of your nail against the mask. There’s no intention on your part to cross his boundary but Jason’s hands snap up to hold onto your wrists all the same.

You look into the white lenses of his domino, fingers buzzing along the corner of the mask closest to them. His mouth twists into a frown.

“Please?”

You beg with the same ferocity a grieving mother once used when begging for her child back.

“You’re asking for a lot.”

He lets go and he takes a couple steps back and you don’t cry.

No, instead you swing your hands behind you. Clasping them together in a poor attempt to stop the buzzing sensation that travels from the tips of your fingers to take over your entire hand.

“Mmm,” you incline your head. “Well. I did help a boy get over first date jitters with a made up song once. Let that same boy talk me through an entire dissertations’ worth of his analysis of Their Eyes Were Watching God - as choppy as it was - because TWMS wouldn’t allow him to present it in class. Let him skip going to that same school and cry to me for hours after the death of Gloria Stanson. Remember a knife hidden in the corner on the highest shelf in his closet, and I remember not revealing any of that when I gave his eulogy because he once asked me to keep the important things between the two of us. So you don’t have to show me, but I think I make a pretty good qualifier when it comes to keeping this safe.”

You point straight to where his heart is tucked safely behind layers of gray armor before shrugging.

From the way his brows furrow over the domino you know he’s at least thinking about it so you step away to pick up your disregarded mask and stuff it in your waistband.

One blink. Six.

“You remember Rena?”

In front of him again, you rock back on your heels. “Mhm. And the ‘how to tie a tie’ lessons me and Bruce walked you through even though you didn’t wear a suit to that date. Remember that too.”

Jason’s smile is crooked on his face but it’s nonetheless present as he makes a noise of agreement.

“I’d just wanted to spend time with you two, I was never planning on wearing a suit to go to the skating rink.”

“We figured.”

You’re rolling onto the balls of your feet when that small smile drops and he shakes his head.

“I’m not that same boy anymore.”

You take in the way he could raise his hand and so easily touch the ceiling without having to jump. You clear the phlegm from your throat.

“I can tell.”

Jason grunts and makes a general gesture indicating something somewhere behind you.

“And I got no interest in trying to live up to whatever fucked up embalment Bruce’s got going on with my burnt suit in that case.”

That suit. Bruce’s memorial. His warning. Your breath hitches as you think of the smell of crisped blood and methanol. If Jason didn’t want to talk about it you sure as shit weren’t going to.

“I will one hundred percent take that into account.” You keep it simple, rocking on your heels again. He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable so there wasn’t really any debate to be had. “You wanna be treated as you are? I can do that.”

Moments pass once you’ve said your peace where Jason does nothing but stare at you. The only indication he’s at all alive being his shoulders still moving - and you are watching. Eyeing that tell tale up and down like your own life will end at its falter. The pattern is slow enough to come off as pacivity but the time between each rise and fall is too measured to be uncontrolled. Exactly three point eleven seconds one way and three point eleven seconds the other. Every time.

Then he sighs, curses, and the little veil of dissolvent for the adhesive that adheres the mask to his face is in his hand. A different vial and color than when he was Robin; you don’t know why you thought it’d be the same. Or why it makes your heart clench that it’s not.

Between one thrum of the fluorescent lights and the next Jason is peeling away the domino, and you would be lying if you claimed to know where it disappeared to after that. Too caught up on what he’d been hiding to track it.

Blue. Nothing more and nothing less. Just blessedly familiar, vibrant blue. Not the dull gray they’d become by the time you were given the chance to put a gruesome sight of a child six feet under.

The “Oh wow,” tumbles from you without permission and then there’s zero hope for the waterworks you’d been holding back. The levee fails and you’re bawling before you know it. Barely holding back snot and who knows what else since you already feel like screaming.

At that point there’s no carefully thought out sentence for you to spew, no more hesitancy, no more measured breathing, and linear thought. Just the crushing need to have him close to you again.

You’re rushing forward before you know.

Wrapping your arms around Jason the next go around is both the best and the worst thing. You accommodate his new size faster, already writing over the ways he used to fit against you with the ways he does so now, but he’s still so stiff and he’s not reciprocating the hug either.

Maybe you should let go. You crossed the boundary too fast. Were too reckless. You literally have training on this and now you’re crowding him.

Okay, you’re pulling away. It’s a herculean effort but you’re forcing your arms from around his middle. You’ve got to, you don’t want to scare him off. Not when you just got him back.

There’s a soft “Not yet,” mumbled into your shoulder and then arms finally come around yours and you don’t hesitate to snap your own back into place.

He’s hugging you back.

You cry a little harder and bring one of your arms up to drape across his shoulders, pulling him closer. When you start rocking and Jason copies your momentum you press a kiss onto his temple.

“Hi,” you stutter out. Another sob. “Hi baby.”

Since he’s finally letting his arms wrap around you you don’t hesitate to run dark fingers through the truly unruly mass of black curls on his head. His hairs’ damp - most likely from sweat - but cool. Probably being tempered by the cold air blowing into the room.

It’s when you press a kiss to his forehead that you feel something else wet and your breath stutters.

“It’s okay. I got you, everything’s okay,” you whisper.

“God Ma-” his voice cracks and then you can hear the sobs he’s trying to muffle into your suit. “No it’s not.”

“I know,” you sob. “I’m sorry- so so fucking sorry.”

You sniffle and pull away to see him better. Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes wet, and cheeks streaked with tears shed. You hold your hands up to frame his face for a second time and run your thumbs through the tear tracks. His chest heaves as his body tries to regulate his breathing.

Jason clears his throat, gaze boring into yours. “Hi,” he says.

You smile, finally beginning to map out his face. First you move to frame his cheeks, too feel the warmth in them. To see if they still feel familiar. They don’t; you force yourself to accept that fact without letting it show in your expression, letting out a measured exhale before continuing. You find his jaw is more defined now too, cheeks devoid of the baby fat of five years prior.

From then on brushing your thumbs along his brows, over the bridge of his nose, traveling over his ears and skirting around his hairline - it all fills your mind with incoherent cheers.

Your thumbs hover over Jason’s eyes and you hum when he closes them for you.

The skin underneath your shaved off pads is soft. The thin layer of protection allows you to feel how his eyeballs shift, to see the way his veins show stark under light skin, to clock the life thrumming through him.

It makes your heart feel so goddamn light. You can’t stop smiling at the sight of him. Eyes still wet but clear.

“I feel like such a horrible mother,” you hiccup, hands slide down so you can once again cup his face. “I barely recognize you.”

Jason’s breathing shakes nearly in tandem with yours and his eyes squeeze tighter shut, head turning away.

“Don’t.” He takes a second to look up. Look right through you. Lashes wet and glassy eyes open, voice grating over his next words. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame any of you for that, but especially not you.”

What you want to do is argue. You should’ve never let him put on that suit in the first place, one fucked up son should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve dropped the case you were working the second you’d heard he’d run away and you should’ve found him. Instead you keep your thoughts personal, pinning them to your brain as if it’s a cushion so that you’ll never forget, and pull your son closer. An action which he allows, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whisper into his hair. The way he instantly shakes his head makes the cool strands tickle your jawline.

“You can’t mean that.”

“If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it, Jay.”

Jason tenses before responding, words spewing without warning.

“Yeah except I’ve killed people, and I don’t regret it, and Bruce hates that - and you probably do too - but his way isn’t good enough. The people in this city deserve better so I’m doing what’s necessary-”

And that has you bristling. He must notice too because he stops short and edges away, face steeping. Caught somewhere between wanting to leave and wanting to fully kick start an argument.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! I had to split this bitch in two cause it was 5,000+ words and I’m not in the business of under-indulging myself.

Listen, I’ve looked into it. Every mother/mother figure Jason’s ever had he’s referred to as “Mom”, but me personally, I didn’t grow up addressing my own mother that way so I wanted to play around with “Ma” (differentiate a little). What's funny though, is that I’ve read Dick referring to his mother as both “Ma” and “Mom” so that’s fun.

• TWMS = Thomas Wayne Middle School

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik

#jason todd #red hood #black!reader #black y/n #black!batmom #•long overdue (the series) #batmom & jason todd #jason todd x batmom #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd angst #batfamily x black!batmom #batmom x jason todd #batfamily x batmom #bruce wayne x batmom #divorced!batmom #batmom angst #batmom #batmom!reader #batfamily x black!reader #bruce wayne x black!batmom!reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #x black reader #jason todd x black!reader #jason todd fanfiction #batfamily fic #batfamily angst

[nexysworld]

Hello!

I hope it’s ok for me to request this (and sorry if my English is not well)😭👉👈

Can I request for Leon and his girlfriend/wife being on a mission together (maybe during re4r, vendetta or re6) and during the mission reader finds out she’s pregnant with Leon’s kid. She’s maybe reluctant on telling him because it might jeopardize the mission or put more weight on Leon’s shoulders, but eventually tells him.

Leon is truly over the moon with the news but at the same time worried since they’re on the mission and was about to call Hunnigan to get her to safety. but girlfriend/wife refuses to abort the mission and leave Leon.

the angst and overprotective and soon to be father leon >u< pls

Thanks so much for the request! The plot for this one actually got away from me more than expected so it's not quite as angsty as I had planned. I had most of it written already so I didn't want to scrap it tho. I hope you like it anyway - I might just redo this one in the future because I like the prompt so much and think I could do it more justice - especially expanding more on Leon's internal feelings. ~ Expectations to Keep Going ~ Read on AO3 🖤 Requests are Open 🖤 Masterlist Pairing: Fem!Reader x Vendetta!Leon Tags: Fluff, Angst, Comfort, Unplanned Pregnancy Word Count: 2.2k

You paced back and forth in the living room of your once-shared apartment. 60 seconds felt like 60 minutes as you watched the timer slowing ticking down, heart racing. With a shaky hand you picked up the stick and to your dismay saw the little + indicating it was positive. “For fuck’s sake, this can’t be happening right now.” Ever have one of those moments where you say ‘at least it can’t get worse.’ Well, this was the universe’s way of reminding you that things can always get worse. 

Leon had walked out on you. He didn’t explicitly say the relationship was over, but he didn’t really need to. He’d shown up drunk, shoving everything he owned into a suitcase, and disappeared on what he called his ‘vacation.’ Except that vacation had lasted weeks now, with not so much as a phone call home. When you attempted to contact him, same thing, radio silence.

You tried remaining calm, knowing what had happened on his most recent mission. You just told yourself he needed time, but with each passing week the feeling that things were over kept washing over you. 

You weren’t one to wallow, freak out, or really deal with your feelings in general. So you did the only thing you knew to cope, you threw yourself into work. Mission after mission, clearing them as fast as you could – that was until weird stuff began happening. Fatigue was the first thing you noticed. You were always tired no matter how much sleep you got. Then came the nausea. Your skin had even begun to break out, your breasts were sore. It was like PMS cranked up to the max – except no period. That in of itself hadn’t been alarming since you didn’t really get one on birth control, the other symptoms though? They had freaked you out, leading you to this moment right now, standing alone in your apartment, positive pregnancy test in hand. 

“I can’t deal with this.” You said to yourself, slumping back onto the couch. Luckily for you, your phone rang. “Redfield? Yeah…yeah…No, I don’t know where he is…yeah, I can help.” 

A mission. Relief flooded through you. Was it a good idea to accept it considering your current condition? Probably not. But a mission would make a great distraction right about now. Besides, with enough willpower, you were sure you could overcome any symptoms for at least a few days, especially if the fate of the world was at stake, right?

That’s the plan. Save the world again and afterward, you’d figure out what to do. 

Your heart stopped when you saw him at the table chugging down another glass of alcohol. He didn’t look great, and he didn’t look happy to see you or the two companions who’d followed. His normally clean-shaven face was now scruffy, the bags under his eyes intensifying the steely blue even more - his hair was dark and greasy. This wasn’t your Leon. You would’ve been happier to not have seen him like this, but Chris and Rebecca insisted on locating him. “Cancel that!” Chris shouted when Leon attempted to order another glass. Leon instantly pulled out a flask from his back pocket with a smirk – of course, he had a backup. It honestly would’ve been funny and so very Leon if the context of the situation didn’t have you feeling so awful. Leon hadn’t acknowledged you once, and you hadn’t tried to speak. What could you possibly say? Now wasn’t the time to talk about your broken relationship or the other elephant in the room - he looked so broken down. “I never plan that far ahead anymore.” He slurred to Chris. “There’s no point. There’s always some new bad guy to fight. My life is just a vicious loop. So what’s the point in thinking about the future?”

Ouch .

Those words definitely stung, adding to the growing barrier between the two of you. Now a new worry bubbled in you that if you did tell him, it would be too much. That would be the thing that sent him spiraling over the edge he was already teetering - you couldn’t do that. Not to him, not to yourself. No. This was something you would need to deal with alone . 

This was a mission. You were a professional. That’s all that mattered right now – let everything else go. Following through on that was hard. Much harder than expected, especially now that you’d found yourself alone with Leon, separated from Chris, and Rebecca abducted.

Nausea had come back in full force, this was the third time you found yourself making him stop his bike so you could lurch behind a dumpster to spill stomach acid and spit. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” “I’m fine.” You assured standing up. You knew he wasn’t buying it, even a half-sober Leon still remained a great agent, sharp as ever. Moodier than usual - even if you hardly spoke. Slower than usual - almost getting mowed down by the Gatling gun in the hotel. You almost never got sick - now you’d spilled your guts several times. Something was definitely up, and he didn’t need to accuse you for you to see the suspicion on his face. Not to mention how he’d been hovering over you like an overprotective guard dog ever since the attack at the hotel.

Guilt. Guilt is what you felt when he looked at you. He was worried about you and you had the truth of what was wrong kept caged behind closed lips. You took in a few deep breaths to help ease your sour stomach - it doesn’t work and you’re in tears now as more gagged coughs are ripped from your throat. A comforting hand rubs your back as a bottle of water is placed in front of you, not bothering to question where he’d gotten it. Greedily you downed the entire thing, using the last sip to swish the terrible flavor from your mouth. “Were you bitten?” 

You shot him a glance of horror. “No! Of course not.” “Then tell me what’s really going on.” “I’m fine.” “You’re obviously not fine.” “Well of course I’m not fine. I’m stuck alone on a mission with the guy who walked out on me after 10 years together. Now can we go?” You don’t know why you said that, your mood just kept ping-ponging through different emotions. You guessed this time it just landed on anger. When his hand was on your back you wanted to cry from the comforting touch, but now that you had to stand and look at his face you were annoyed. This wasn’t the time or place. You knew that, you’d reminded yourself of it several times, and yet emotions were getting the better of you. Damn these stupid hormones. His brows came together in thought and confusion, you really weren’t acting like yourself. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” He finally responded. “I know. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have – “ “No, I deserved that. I’m surprised you didn’t come into the hotel swinging, honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed you. It was shitty how I left.” It wasn’t an apology, but the acknowledgment definitely helped a little. 

The two of you stood there awkwardly for a while. Leon had radioed Chris for a status report, his team had breached the building and were on a steady path of clearing out the enemy. It bought you and Leon a little more time to continue your awkward stand-off. He brought his gaze to meet yours again. “Look, I know I don’t deserve to know what’s going on with you. I get it. But at least for the sake of the mission, tell me what’s wrong physically. If we need a medic–” “I’m pregnant.” You didn’t know what possessed you to say it after you’d spent the entire time telling yourself that you couldn’t - no - shouldn’t. It was probably the fact you couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you anymore. But there it was, the truth slipped right out.

“What.” “I’m pregnant.” “I don’t understand.” You’d never seen such a stupefied look on him before. It was like you had just spoken in tongues, for some reason that irritated you. You finally confess your big secret in the middle of a super important mission, and that’s all he had to say? “What don’t you understand? I’m pregnant and it’s yours. You got me pregnant. I am pregnant with your baby. You put your –” You were cut off by your own crying, feeling every emotion simultaneously, the tears continued to spill against your will. Damn. Damn. DAMN these stupid hormones. 

“Ok. Ok. I get it, calm down.” He put his hands out defensively as he walked towards you, caging you against the wall. “I can’t!” You shouted. Leon pressed your foreheads together, snaking his arms behind you into a hug. He didn’t say anything, just held you tightly for a few moments letting you sob it out. Once the waterfall of tears was reduced to some hiccups and sniffling, he began to rub soothing circles into your lower back. You dared to glance up at him through wet lashes, there was an unmistakable smile plastered to his face. “It would be just like you to distract yourself from huge news with work. But you shouldn’t be here if you’re pregnant. Let me call Hunnigan, we can have a ‘copter sent in to pick you up.” “No!” You brought your hands up to push him away from you, shaking your head. “No, I am not abandoning this mission. Chris needed my help to unlock the building’s computer systems so they can collect the virus’ information. I’m not going anywhere - wait - why are you smiling like that?” His gleeful look didn’t waver. “Sweetheart…you’re asking me why I’m smiling? Obviously, because I’m happy.” “What?” “I’m happy? You told me I’m going to be a father. There’s going to be a little ankle-biting Kennedy running around. I’m happy! Not quite as happy you knew and came here anyway. I guess that’s my own fault though.” “I don’t understand. You left me. You literally said there was no point in planning for a future.” It was your turn to look absolutely stunned, it was so far from the reaction you had expected it almost gave you whiplash. He reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it assuringly. “Yeah, I was wallowing in some deep self-pity. But seeing you almost get killed in the hotel was a sobering reminder of what I can’t afford to lose. Hearing that I’m going to be a father? That doubles it for me. I realized I was looking at things the wrong way. I know I’ll always be running headfirst into danger, but maybe having a future to look forward to is the motivation I need to stay alive while I do it. Wait are you seriously –oh, come on Honey don’t start crying again.” He sighed pulling you close. “I’m calling Hunnigan and getting you out of here.” “No! I have to complete the mission. Just give me a minute.” Your words lacked the bite you intended. “Look, I think I’d already flop at this whole fatherhood thing if I let the mother of my baby get hurt or killed on day 1.” Leon pressed a few soft kisses on your forehead and wet cheeks before finally connecting your lips together. He tasted like alcohol masked with mint and the short hairs on his face scratched you, but it was still comforting. “Let’s negotiate then.” You offered. “This isn’t the time for that. You’re jeopardizing the mission and you could get killed, it’s not safe.” His tone was caring, but stern now. “Look. I know it was stupid of me to take this on while pregnant. You’re right it was a distraction and I thought I could handle it better. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only one who can get into those systems.” You managed to finally get the tears to stop, rubbing your eyes dry and raw. You could see he still wasn’t fully convinced. “Leon, there isn’t going to be a future for our baby if we can’t stop this. Please.” “Fine. But only if you promise to stay on the defensive and avoid action as much as possible. Do as I tell you to and let me handle any enemies that his team may have missed.” “Come on Leon, I can handle–” “No. We do things my way or I’m calling Hunnigan and you’re leaving.” You were annoyed despite knowing he was right. You would’ve argued further but the look of worry on his face shut you up instantly. “Alright. Alright. I’ll follow your lead, promise.” 

“Good, and Baby?” “Yeah?” “No more missions for a while. Got it?” “Deal.” You shook his hand as if it were a business meeting, rewarding you with a laugh on his part. He captured you in one more quick kiss before leading you over to his bike, both steeling yourselves back into your professional personas. You hopped onto the back, wrapping your arms around him tightly as he took off in the direction of the building to get the remainder of the mission over with. 

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #vendetta!leon #Resident Evil #Resident Evil Vendetta #Resident Evil Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Reader Insert #x reader #Female reader #Fem!Reader #Anon #Ask #Requests

[niefics]

01 | Confrontation

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — SYNOPSIS : Actions comes with consequences, as reader has to live with her dumb decisions as she finds out she’s pregnant by a one night stand.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — WARNINGS : Cursing, being pregnant ??, angst, asked to abort, jay is cold ??

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — WORD COUNT : 1k

Masterlist — next

You sighed deeply, standing in front of the door of someone you slept with drunkenly. Biting your lip you knocked. This wasn't want you expected, this isn't what you wanted to happen the way it did but you had to live with it, at least come to terms about it and tell him.

Your knocked at the door of the nice apartment you were at, holding your purse as you waited for an answer. Opening to see a tall figure with a straight face. "You came to talk right ?" Jay spoke, no reaction, you hummed anxiously, as he moved to the side to let you into his nice apartment.

You took your shoes off as you walked in sitting down on the couch in his nice living room. "Do you want any water ?" He asked emotionlessly, even though he's showing little to no emotion he still is trying to show some type of respect for his guest since he doesn't know you well, that night you two slept together was a accident. All of it.

From when he gave you his number to talk to you more as soon as you two started conversating in the club, to when he dragged you to his apartment while drunk and needy for you. Neither of you caring about protection, and if anything happened you'd just remember to take a morning after pill .. well you didn't. You were to shocked to be in his apartment to even remember to. Rushing out immediately after waking up.

You shook your head no as you looked into his eyes. "Okay." He spoke sitting down near you but not too close to you to give you space. "Now what did you want to talk to me about ?" He spoke, sitting with his arms rested on his knees as his hands were touching. He looked as if he came from somewhere where he needed to dress formal or business casual.

You sighed, knowing you needed to tell him how you been feeling for the past month or two, you haven't had your period but you've been to busy with work and your personal life to realize, until you felt weird, your breast being sore then normal and had the weirdest cravings, you thought it would be a good idea to check if you were pregnant.

Standing in a isle staring at the multiple pregnancy tests, you start to dissociate anxiety hitting you that you might be pregnant. Especially after the random feelings of sickness before work and even during causing you to call in sick at times and get you in trouble with your boss. You sighed, finally grabbing a box and walking to the front of the store to the cashier where they checked you out. The silence was awkward and achingly loud. You took the recent as soon as your card went through taking the bag and leaving immediately feeling embarrassed for multiple reasons.

As you sat in your bathroom as you looked at the 3 pregnancy tests that were all positive you started to panic. You weren't married, not even dating and what makes it worse is .. it was by a one night fucking stand. "I'm pregnant." You said not even looking at jay, way to embarrassed. Not even wanting to look up at him, you didn't want to raise the child by yourself but you started to grow attached to the baby that was growing in your stomach as you gotten used to the fact that you were pregnant. Jay eyebrows scrunched, his head going back a little looking at you. "What?" He spoke confusion in his tone.

"I'm pregnant, and it's yours."

"You sure ?" You finally looked at him, your mood swings have been kicking your ass a lot recently, and your anger amplified a lot because of it. "Am I sure ? Jay I don't sleep with everyone. If it wasn't for your fucking persuading me to go home with you when we were both drunk we wouldn't be in the predicament would we ?" You spoke, frustration showing in your tone. "How can I be sure that it's mine ?" He spoke snapping back. "Because you're the only person I've slept with in over a year jay." You spoke sighing. The more jay realized that it might actually be his the Orr he realized what this could mean for him and his career. Jay was a son of a rich ceo, often being talked about for his good looks. So if anyone heard about this, this could cause trouble for the company and bad publicity that jay didn't want more need.

"You can't keep it." He mumbled. "What?" You asked confused. "I said, you can't keep it. This would be bad publicity for my company. I don't want to be known as someone who got a random girl pregnant." You sat there silent. Something in you didn't want to no matter what you didn't want to, you weren't pregnant long but the thought of having a child to lay with and tend to made you slightly happy. You shook your head slowly. "I can't .. I don't want to." You spoke. “I’m not doing this just for me, I’m doing this for your own good. This wouldn’t be any good for you either. They would call you names and could possibly cause you to loose your job ruin your life because of that.” He was right, you knew this was a dumb decision a very fucking dumb decision.

“I genially don’t care how they would feel about me, and if you don’t want to be there for my child then so be it.” You spoke frustration taking over you, getting up to get ready to leave. “But I’m not aborting them.” You spoke walking to the door putting your shoes back on. And as you were about to open the door he spoke sighing. “I helped make that child, and I won’t allow you to raise that child by yourself.” He spoke, knowing that wouldn’t be what his dad would want.

He knew if she really did go through with it, he would feel guilty, he couldn’t force her to abort the child they made together no matter how much hate he’d get from the public. And if he can’t get you to abort the child, he’s gonna be there for that boy or girl, even if that means you two aren’t together.

#enhypen smut #enhypen x you #jayangst #jay enhypen #jay x reader #jay x you #jay angst #jay ff #jay fanfic

[cupid-styles]

YES! I will eat up any crumbs you have!

Some ideas that would be cute to see would be would be jealousy, idk from which side. Maternity shopping or any baby shopping! First kick! Also Im not sure yet if their friends know but that would be cool to read too!

AH here u go cutie pie!!!! thank you for enjoying them as much as i do hehehe <3333

content warnings: pregnant yn/baby talk

word count: 963

. . .

"Can you stop pacing?"

Harry stops in his tracks, turning on his heel to look at a very exasperated looking Y/N. He's trying to ignore the fact that she's only wearing a flimsy paper hospital gown, legs spread with her feet in those awful metal stirrups. 

He can't help that he's nervous about seeing their baby for the first time, especially considering the circumstances — they almost didn't make it to this point and, on top of that, Y/N almost attended this appointment without him. He had to convince her to let him come; her argument being something along the lines of, "But the doctor's gonna, like... look up my vag and stuff."

(Unfortunately for her, that wasn't enough to stop Harry.)

"I'm anxious," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest as he shuffles over to her side.

"Don't get too close or I may punch you when she sticks stuff inside of me," Y/N quickly replies, holding her hand out to create distance between them, "Also, you're anxious? You just get to stand there and do nothing!"

Harry sighs. Frankly, he's a bit too tired to fight her on this. She'd been texting him all night about worries she had, wondering if the cup of coffee she had two weeks ago would hurt the baby, or — her words — "what if they look weird?"

"I know, you're right. How are you feeling?" Harry asks in an attempt to make her feel prioritized.

She shrugs her shoulders. She's surprised by his kind response and she doesn't have a good response prepared.

"'m nervous, too." she finally mumbles out, the admittance of her own worries somehow embarrassing to her.

He nods understandingly. "Well, we'll just see what happens, I guess, but at least we're here for each other. I would never want you to go through this alone."

Y/N bites her bottom lip and lays her head back against the firm cushioning of the table. 

"I would agree, but your pacing is pissing me off too much to feel grateful."

Harry's groan is cut off by a knock on the door, punctuated by Y/N's doctor's head peeking in. 

"Can I come in?" 

As soon as Y/N answers her, it's a flurry of questions and answers that only Y/N can answer. What was the first day of your last period? Do you have a history of high blood pressure? What's your family medical history? Are you on any medications? Who's your primary care doctor? When did you take a pregnancy test?

Harry's head is spinning as reality begins to hit him square in the face. He's having a child. With someone he barely knows. They had sex once — a one night stand, for fuck's sake — and now they were committing to raising a child together.

Were they absolutely insane?

He starts to think he may be when the doctor asks for her full name and he realizes he doesn't even know her middle name. Anxiety is clawing at his stomach and chest, his throat dry as the doctor rubs some weird jelly on Y/N's exposed stomach. Unexpectedly, Y/N gasps at the texture and reaches out to grab Harry's hand, muttering out something about it being cold.

He knows that he's fine, but it feels like she's squeezing the life out of his hand and it's only making his nerves worsen. He's ready to run for the hills, give her half the money for an abortion like she said a few weeks back — until it starts.

A steady thumping in quick successions. The sound fills the entire room and Harry's world stops.

"That's your baby's heartbeat."

He swallows harshly, his eyes zeroing in on the image on the screen. He always thought parents to-be that cried at sonogram pictures were a little silly — you can barely tell what's going on, but in that moment, Harry understands. It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. A series of blobs that he immediately identifies with and feels attached to — his baby.

He looks over to Y/N, who has tears streaming down her cheeks. He smiles gently and gives her hand a small squeeze.

"They're beautiful," she whispers. 

"I think they have your nose." Harry whispers back.

"Don't be dumb," she mutters, wiping the tears away, "You can't see shit, Harry."

He just laughs and asks the doctor for as many prints of the sonogram they're allowed.

. . .

"You're what?"

Y/N stares back at her and Harry's friends, all of who look like they're the ones who just found out they're having a baby.

She clears her throat, repeating her words. "I'm pregnant. And Harry's the dad."

At the mention of his name, Harry scrambles, quickly pulling the sonogram pictures out of his pocket and placing them on the table. 

"I'm sorry, what the fuck?" Lucy's the first to speak up, her eyes wide as they flicker back and forth from Y/N to Harry. "You guys hate each other."

Y/N shrugs. 

"It was a one night thing," Harry says, offering a smidgen of context.

"And so...?" Dom asks.

"We wanted to have a baby," Y/N replies defensively, crossing her arms over her chest, "I got pregnant. We talked about it. We're gonna have a kid. Any other questions?"

Lea sighs quietly, turning to look at Y/N. "We're not pissed or anything, babe. We're just concerned, that's all."

She nods curtly as Lucy reaches out to look at the sonograms. Dom looks over her shoulder, smiling fondly at the pictures.

"It doesn't have to be a big thing. Friends have babies all the time," Harry says, "Like Y/N explained, we've both always wanted to be parents and this is just the opportunity for us. I'm going to be there to support her the entire time and we wanted you guys to know what's going on."

Y/N swallows, ignoring the way her heart warms ever so slightly at Harry defending their choice. The reasoning sounds much better coming out of his mouth. When she says it, it feels like it's some stupid haphazard explanation, but with him, it's as if it's been calculated and planned.

Their friends all nod their heads as they process Harry's words.

She clears her throat, nervously picking at her fingernails underneath the table. "We're... committed to doing this together," she says, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "And we're going to love this baby more than anything else in the world."

Harry wants to reach out and take her hand into his, but he resists the urge, knowing she'd just yell at him. A gentle smile worms its way on Lucy's face as Lea nods, an affectionate look brightening over her expression. 

"We're so happy for you both," Dom says, passing the sonogram pictures back to Harry.

Harry doesn't miss the small smile that appears on Y/N's face. Besides, he can barely hold his in.

#writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles #ymls

[naddiesflower]

hi there, may i request hcs w dabi, aizawa & toga w a gn s/o whos very flirty and talkstive but when someone flirts back their brain just shuts down and they instantly become a flustered mess?🤭

*rises from the dead and drops this very very late*

Dabi

I feel like Dabi wouldn’t flirt back immediately 

But he wouldn’t outright ignore you

if anything he would entertain your flirting

You would flirt with him any chance you had

“Hey, aside from being good looking, what do you do for a living?”

This makes Dabi huff out a small laugh

“Oh you know, just some rookie villain stuff.”

There was one time you had decided to flirt with him while running away from some heroes

“Don’t you ever get tired from running through my mind all day?”

“What i’m tired of is these losers chasing us.”

One day Dabi decides to flirt back just because

You had said something (he wasn’t sure what cuz he would tune you out sometimes)

“You sure are chatty, im sure i can think of a better way we can put that mouth to use.”

……

Immediate brain short circuit

You suddenly don’t know how to function

Your stuttering is intelligible

And you can feel heat rising to your face

Dabi’s lazy smile stretches into a sinister one

“No way.”

ABORT ABORT ABORT

“Uh…well see you later Dabi-”

Oh wow and now there’s a hand planted to wall next to you

“Now hold up, where did all that bravado go?”

His face seems just a tad bit too close to yours

“My uh- the um you see, i ah-”

Dabi just busts out laughing after this

Which thankfully gives you the time to flee

You are no longer safe around this man anymore tho

It is now Dabi who is initiating the flirting

You shall now deal with the actions of your consequences

Aizawa

This guy i just know would not flirt back

It was you mostly flirting with the dumbest pick up lines

Aizawa mostly rolls his eyes

But you mostly flirt during hero work 

Cuz that’s when you bump into each other more often than not

And that’s when Aizawa doesn’t roll his eyes

But responds with variation of

“Focus!”

“We have no time for this.”

Or “must i be the one to face this type of torture?”

This goes on for the longest time

But you never tire from teasing Aizawa

Aizawa also doesn’t make any big fuss about trying to stop you

He kinda secretly looks forward to you bothering him

One day after taking down a villain he compliments you

“You did a great job taking down that villain, your form was especially great.”

Now mind you this was a small compliment

A very tame compliment 

You stop on the spot

You suddenly don’t know how to work your legs

Aizawa is confused

After a concerned Aizawa makes sure you’re okay

The rest of the day goes on normally

Though Aizawa does come to a conclusion that he tests out the next time you bump into each other

“Good job, you looked great out there.”

Oh man do your knees go weak and you’re a babbling fool at this point

“Oh uh, y-yeah, i mean- thanks…”

From now on when you try flirting with him, Aizawa fires back with actually pretty sweet compliments

Toga

You are in trouble with her from the start

Would immediately flirt back

But she doesn’t notice this cuz that’s just the way she is

If anything she’s the one who approaches you first and just starts complimenting you left and right

“Your eyes are so pretty!”

“Can I have some of your blood?”

Most people would be like wtf

But in your mind like 

“You want my blood?” 🥺👉👈

Obviously you don’t voice that out loud cuz you quite literally can’t

You kinda look like a fish out of water with the way ur trying to utter a single word out

You can almost never get a word out around her cuz she’s bubbly and just as talkative as you if not more

Which somehow leads to you making it a goal to at least not be a blabbering fool around her

It’s an ongoing challange that you can never seem to accomplish

The most you were able to get out around her was one (1) small compliment

Which didn’t phase you at first because you had genuinely meant it

“Ah, Himiko you have a really cute smile.”

She gets all starry eyes and blushy

But you don’t notice cuz you're mentally celebrating not acting a fool around her

However, that’s short-lived as soon as she wraps herself around your arms and drags you somewhere around the hideout while you’re mentally short circuiting

#mha x you #mha x reader #mha scenarios #mha imagines #dabi scenarios #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #aizawa imagine #aizawa x reader #himiko toga x reader #toga x reader #toga himiko

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over XVIII (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, forbidden relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

You laid in bed, fingers clutching your pillow as you tearfully stared at your window. It was locked, as it always was these days, but that didn’t matter much when Rafe had already cemented himself in your life. Your throat hurt, and your eyes were tight from how much crying you’d done, and as your parents’ voices traveled through the wall, you felt your eyes water again.

They’d been arguing all afternoon and all night.

About you.

Your dad was too disappointed and too angry to even look for a silver lining in this while your mom, who’d always spoke of grandkids for as long as you could remember, was trying to find some positive in this. Her hurt and disappointment were still palpable too. After all, what parent dreamed of their eighteen-year-old kid getting knocked up before they even went off to college or had some semblance of a life?

You closed your eyes, thinking of how Rafe ruined everything.

As much as you hadn’t even wanted to the first time, you were resigning yourself to getting another abortion. Before, where you’d at least had some semblance of hope that a baby would put things into perspective for Rafe, now you knew just what he was capable of. As much as it didn’t sit right with you, you were much surer this time around.

…but then Rafe happened…again.

Your mind took you back to earlier in the day when you’d slapped him in the bathroom. You were sure that you’d never hit him before. In all the madness of what he put you through, you’d never tried to hurt him in any way that wasn’t self-defense. When the slap barely did anything, you’d hit him again and again.

While your parents were talking to Ward about your future, you were trying to hurt Rafe as badly as he’d hurt you.

“I can’t believe you,” you’d choked out, vision blurry from your tears. “I can’t believe you.”

That was all you’d been able to say for a while, so in shock and disbelief at what he’d done. Not even just with telling your parents, but getting you pregnant on purpose in the first place. You knew that he did. Everything was too coincidental. Not to mention, his words from that last night were still plain as day in your head.

He’d promised that everyone would know you were his.

“If you think-.”

“If I think what?” he’d wondered, stepping towards you and crowding you against the wall. “Hmm?”

You had swallowed, tearful gaze holding his cold one as he stared you down.

“If you thought I was going to let you get away from me, get rid of my child,” you flinched at the emphasis there. “…move on and run off to college like we never happened, maybe you are dumb.”

Your lips trembled, nails digging into your palms.

“If you’re even thinking there’s some way you can get out of this, I’m all too happy to tell you you’re wrong,” he spat. “My father will fight whatever legal battle you try to throw our way, and you know it.”

Rafe’s nose brushed yours, and the only sound you could really register was your heavy breathing.

“That baby is a Cameron. It belongs to me,” he quietly told you. “…and so does its mother.”

You had furiously blinked, more tears falling, and Rafe had reached up to wipe them away. His hands rested on your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your damp skin, and you had watched his face fall some, evening out.

“Don’t make this hard on yourself when it doesn’t need to be,” he’d whispered, almost begging. “You love kids. I know you do, and it’s how I know you hated getting rid of the first one.”

You’d looked away.

“You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“You didn’t give me a choice.”

Your eyes had met his again, more tears falling.

“I can take care of you both—I will take care of you both,” Rafe had darkly promised, and if it weren’t for the fact that your pregnancy had been intentional, you would’ve thought it sweet. “You’ll want for nothing-.”

“Except for someone who doesn’t hurt me and rape me, right?”

He’d pressed his lips together at that, and you shook your head, fighting back more tears.

“Rafe, you can’t do this,” you’d shakily whispered, tone pleading.

His brows drew together, and he tilted his head.

“…and what are you going to do to stop me? Hmm?”

You hadn’t had an answer for him.

“You can try and press charges, but we both know that won’t end well.”

You’d looked down at that.

“You can try and run from me, but I will always find you,” he’d promised. “…and if you think you can sneak off to Charlotte again, I’d like to see you try.”

You’d closed your eyes, hating the truth in his words more than anything.

“…and beautiful…”

You’d reluctantly opened your eyes at the nickname, trembling as Rafe pressed his hands to the wall on either side of your head. His dark blond hair kissed his forehead, and his blue eyes gleamed dangerously.

“If you try to keep this baby from me, I’ll ruin your fucking life.”

You released a shaky breath as he looked between your eyes.

“I’ll show you just how bad things can really get.”

You couldn’t imagine how things could get worse, but if Rafe was consistent with one thing, it was proving that particular thought wrong. When he reached up to touch your face, you shivered, and you could see that he was looking to where the faint bruise on your cheek would be if it weren’t for your makeup.

“It doesn’t make sense to try and do things the hard way each and every time when you’re just going to get the same result—right back to me.”

Rafe’s words rang true, even now as you laid in bed, but it didn’t mean you had to like them. God, you knew that coming up with anything to fight Rafe wouldn’t end well for you. You knew that it would only prolong the inevitable, but you had to at least try. You wanted to look back and at least say you tried. It was the right thing to do…right?

Sleep barely found you, and you tossed and turned most of the night.

As precarious as you wanted to claim your future was, it really wasn’t. There was really only one clear path, and you hated it. The events of yesterday didn’t even feel real, and yet, they were. Your parents knew about your relationship with Rafe, and they knew you were pregnant, and instead of the horrifying truth, Rafe had painted you both out to be some lovesick teenagers who just got too caught up in the whirlwind of it all.

Your dad hadn’t even said a word to you since yesterday, only your mom asking how you slept and if you’d eaten. It wasn’t unusual for her to ask those things, but you both knew there was a hidden meaning behind it. You hated the way she gazed at you, like you were precious, in a delicate position.

Like you were eating for two, now.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she finally asked long after breakfast was over.

You both were sitting on the couch, and you stared at the wall as her gaze rested on you. You wanted to tell her it was because you’d only just found out yourself, but even revealing just how partially sinister Rafe was would come back to bite. If your parents knew the truth, they’d try to kill Rafe or throw him under the jail in a heartbeat, and Rafe was right about a lot of things lately, but especially when he’d said that Ward wasn’t going to let you smear the Cameron name.

Even if it was all true.

“I was scared, I guess.”

It wasn’t a lie.

You were scared. You never wanted your parents to know about any of this, to look at you with the disappointment they’d worn yesterday. You went to the fancy private school. You had the grades for scholarships and to get into any college you wanted. You didn’t stay in trouble like Pope. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen to you.

“Rafe sure does seem to care about you, a lot…” you closed your eyes at that. “…and he seems to really care about this baby too.”

You didn’t know what Rafe was.

He claimed to love you, but that hadn’t stopped him from hurting you in more ways than one. He claimed to care about this baby, but already he’d brought it up as an excuse to hurt you if need be. Rafe just didn’t like losing. At least, that’s what you thought, but even the sorest of losers wouldn’t go so far as to propose marriage. You really didn’t know what Rafe was, but determined to keep you was evident more than anything else.

…and you didn’t even know why.

“He’s so young, just like you, but he seemed very sincere when he talked about wanting to marry you.”

You swallowed at that.

“Do you want to marry him?”

That question didn’t require any thought.

Of course, you didn’t want to marry Rafe. You didn’t even want to be near him, but you kept that to yourself, merely shrugging. Your mom sighed, and you could see that she was trying to be gentle about all of this as opposed to your dad who could barely look at you.

“You do want this baby…right? Rafe definitely made it seem like you did, but I realized that I never got the chance to ask you.”

“I don’t know,” you quietly told her.

Deep down, that was the truth.

Like before, you didn’t want to get rid of it, but also like before, you knew that you needed to. If you ever wanted a chance at a life away from Rafe, you needed to, but you knew there was no chance of you getting to Charlotte without Rafe stopping you before you even made it on the Ferry.

“Well…that’s okay,” she relented, patting your leg. “You still have some time to think about it and talk it over with Rafe.”

You resisted the urge to huff at that, hating that your mom was so privy to this part of your life that you didn’t want anyone to know about. Hearing her talk about you and Rafe like some couple made your stomach turn, and you licked your lips as she continued.

“Just in case you’re…worried about what your dad and I might think, I want you to know that I’ll be happy with whatever you decide…”

You looked at her at that, and your shoulders dropped. The smile she sent you was comforting, but tight.

“…so, you should do what you feel is right, regardless of how you think it’ll make us feel.”

You could see the glimmer in her eyes, the hope on her face. Your mom was saying all the right things, but anyone could tell that she wanted you to keep this baby, no matter how much she tried to hide it. You didn’t even have the strength to tell her that because of Rafe, she’d probably get exactly what she wanted.

“Maybe…maybe we can get you to Charlotte again. Or maybe there’s someone on Outer Banks who…”

Pope trailed off as you lifted your head, looking at him with a blank face. It had been days since you’d been ambushed by Rafe and his dad, your dad still wasn’t talking to you, and Pope… Pope was desperately trying to come up with anything to get you out of this situation. You were still waiting for the other shoe to drop where he realized just how you became pregnant again.

After all, it happened after the day Pope learned the truth, and in this whole madness, his mind wasn’t letting him linger on the elephant in the room.

“You have to do something.”

“For what? For Rafe to stop me? Get mad at me again? Take it out on you again—or dad?”

You shrugged, finally feeling…defeated, and you could tell that it was written all over your face. Rafe had gotten to you because he was right. The only chance you had was to get off this island and never come back, and that just wasn’t practical. You were eighteen and pregnant with no credit, no savings, and no means of surviving away from your family. Even if they helped you out, it was just another way Rafe could find you and drag you back, and you didn’t need your family feeling any worse than they already did.

Especially Pope.

Besides, you hated Rafe, but you loved your family more than you could ever hate him, and you’d miss them too much. Even just the thought of trying to make it without them and with minimal contact was enough to make your throat tight. Rafe had you well and truly stuck, and as much as you didn’t want him to be right, he was.

Anything you did would just prolong the inevitable.

…and that’s how you found yourself in Bunny’s car on the way to the Cameron residence. You’d told your parents where you were going, and your mom had swallowed down her obvious curiosity while your dad had simply nodded. He still hadn’t spoken a word to you, and you tried not to take it personal, knowing how much this was to process even without the details only you knew about.

You found your hatred of Rafe bubbling to the surface at that.

Rafe’s inability to keep your relationship perils between you two was infuriating. First, he brought Pope into it, and now his dad and your parents. Maybe that was why he kept getting the upper hand because between the two of you, you were the only one who felt you had something to hide. Rafe had wanted the relationship out and in the open from the beginning, and you never foresaw your desire for secrecy being used against you one day.

Bunny was definitely curious as she dropped you off, and you ignored the questions in her eyes, only telling her you needed to talk to Rafe about something. It definitely wasn’t a lie, but the something in question was a pretty big something that you were choosing to leave out. You sighed to yourself as she drove off, thankful that Pope hadn’t been home when you left. Your brother would’ve happily tied you down to keep you from going to see Rafe alone.

The smile that Rose gave you when she opened the door told you that she knew.

You swallowed.

“Is Rafe home?”

His truck was in the yard, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” she sweetly said, gently rubbing your back as she ushered you inside. “He’s just upstairs but let me go and get him.”

As she made her way upstairs, you decided that you hated this already. She’d looked at you like you were some miracle sent from God to tame her demented stepson. She’d looked at you like some saving grace, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know she viewed you as an extension of Rafe in some way. Now that you were carrying his child, you belonged to him in their eyes, and the thought made you sick…because it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Movement at the top of the stairs drew your attention, and you absentmindedly took a step back at the sight of Rafe. You kept your eyes on him as he descended, and that smug curve of his lips was almost enough to make you flip him off and leave with no intentions of ever coming back. You faintly took note of Ward standing near the stairs as Rafe approached, but it was hard to focus on him.

Rafe had a way of stealing all of your attention, both the good and the bad.

Neither of you said a word as he walked outside, you following close behind. You were somewhat nervous as you followed him to the dock, recalling the last time you were with him near water. Rafe seemed to read our thoughts as he eyed the way you lingered on the grass, and you took a deep breath, glancing away.

“I don’t want to be with you,” you finally said. “I figured I’d make that clear up front.”

That obviously wasn’t what Rafe wanted to hear if the way he frowned indicated anything.

“You’re not good for me, and you’ve done too much to even consider moving past it all, and you know what else?” you licked your lips. “I don’t want you around this baby.”

Rafe shifted at that, glancing away, and you watched the sunlight glint off of his blue eyes.

“It’s not fair that you can do everything you’ve done, and still get it all. Everything you want. I hate it,” you choked out. “It sucks that you can hurt me over and over again and still have the right to call this baby yours, raise it with me, be in it’s life…and all because of who your dad is.”

He wouldn’t look at you, and you blinked back tears, struggling to swallow.

“It really fucking sucks…but there isn’t anything I can do about it,” you whispered, folding your arms over your chest just as he looked at you. “So, tell me what you want…”

“Besides you?”

“You’re not getting me,” you sneered. “I can’t keep you away from this baby, and so I can’t keep you out of my life, but we are nothing.”

Rafe smirked at that, and you glared at him, stepping closer.

“I’m serious, Rafe. You got what you wanted—me pregnant and tied to you forever, but that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to us. You’re it’s father, and that’s it,” you explained with a shrug.

Rafe slowly nodded, softly chuckling to himself, and it made you grind your teeth.

“We’ll see,” was all he said, and you didn’t know why that made you angrier than anything else, right now.

You pressed your lips together, angrily shaking your head at him.

“Fuck you,” you breathed. “You did a shitty thing, you know that?”

He didn’t respond, and you continued.

“My own dad can’t even look at me,” you tearfully confessed. “They never expected this from me, so does that make you feel good? Huh? Do you like that you just completely screwed me over?”

“Well,” he slowly started. “Maybe it’s a good thing you won’t be there much, anyway.”

You frowned at that, pausing as you blinked at him.

“What…what are you talking about?”

Rafe moved towards you, and you were frozen with confusion, studying his face as he reached up to brush his fingers across his mouth. His blue eyes drank you in with a small smile.

“You’re pregnant, beautiful,” he said as if that explained it all. “You need the right foods, the right vitamins, the proper care.”

You swallowed.

“You’ll need regular check-ups and constant looking after that your parents can’t give you because they both work, and I’d die before I trust your brother to make sure this baby is born healthy.”

Your lips parted, and you sharply inhaled. Rafe swiped his tongue between his lips, reaching up to gently touch your face.

“I’m a lot of things, but I won’t be a deadbeat. I’m going to be there for every moment of this pregnancy, and it’s either I come live with you, or you come live with me. Everyone involved knows what the obvious answer is,” he paused, letting out a breath. “Everyone except you apparently.”

You slapped his hand away, feeling like you’d been sucker punched.

“Rose and I don’t work…not yet, anyway,” he chuckled, and you didn’t linger on what that meant. “…and we have so much space here. You need to be in a place where you can be comfortable, and once my dad is finished with your parents, they’ll see it that way too.”

Tears finally spilled over, and you stumbled away from him.

“…and as for us,” his fingers grazed your neck. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

His soft voice reached your ears, and Rafe pressed his nose to your hair, deeply inhaling.

“I hear those pregnancy hormones can be a bitch to cope with without some…help.”

You pushed him away, and the sound of his laugh filled your ears as you stumbled back to the house.

#dark rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #Outer Banks #outer banks fanfiction

[cts-ryu-writing-desk]

Melissa is Overdue

This was a little piece I thought up on a whim. A Pregnancy that went well overdue. Anyway this was pretty fun to work on.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Melissa was just an average woman living in a small town. One day in the fall, she discovered that she was pregnant. Melissa at first was rather reluctant to discover this, as she was now all alone. Of course, it would happen after her boyfriend left her with his blonde whore of a waitress from the local diner. She was heavily contemplating aborting the baby. But eventually changed her mind. The reason she never divulged to anyone.

Melissa was already a rather plump lady to begin with and as the pregnancy progressed she wasn’t exactly overjoyed about it. She was hoping for more of the easy-to-manage symptoms with her pregnancy, like tiredness, and some morning sickness.

What she learned is that it is more of a roulette wheel, and what she got was a sensitivity to smells, wild and erratic mood swings, and incredibly tender breasts. At least when she discovered she was having a baby boy. If she was going to have one at least she wanted it to be “easy” as she’d put it. 

Weeks turned to months, and Melissa's baby grew bigger and bigger. Her plump tum rounded out into a fully-fledged baby bump by the time she reached six months. As her pregnancy developed into more of the later stages she talked with her doctor about her plan. “I want a water birth, I’ve already been in talks with a few different midwives,” she told her nurse

“I can see you’ve set your sights on it,” the nurse replied

“I have,” She told her doctor confidently

One thing that she absolutely did not want was to be cut open in any regard. She knew tearing might happen and resigned herself to that. But did not want to be cut open surgically if she didn’t need to. Something she voiced with extreme prejudice to her doctor, Gregory Lipshcitz, many times over several appointments.

“I just wanna make sure that you have a backup plan should something go wrong.”

“I know and nothing will go wrong, 'cause I already have it all planned out,” she told him

She was getting closer to her due date, July Second. Melissa was already a few weeks away. As she ran through everything she had planned out meticulously every detail from when she expected to start feeling her contractions to the hour she expected her baby to be born. She wanted everything to fall into place according to her own time and her convenience. But as July Second came and went, the baby didn’t so much as attempt to arrive.

“Sometimes babies come when they’re ready,” her closest friend told her

“Bullshit,” she replied “They can come when I’m ready for them”

A trip to her doctor would confirm this fact. However, he was out of town. And the stand-in, Doctor Edward Thompson, did not feel the same as she did. “You only missed it by a day and the little guy seems fine and healthy so, I don’t feel there is a need to induce your labor right now.”

‘I can think of several,” She pointed out to him, partially annoyed that her plans were ruined.

“Well we can agree to disagree,” Dr. Thompson told her, “I’m sure he’ll come out when you least expect it,” he told her wishing her well as she left the hospital

Melissa drove home with her bump nearly against the steering wheel. She started to look into ways to naturally induce her labor. She tried them all. She tried exercise, according to one study she saw a two-and-a-half-mile walk every day or a thirty-minute workout could help pop her. But nothing came of it except a daily fatigue halfway through the day. She ate a bowl of dates every day hearing that they could induce labor. Again there was nothing. 

The last thing she tried was sex. With no real boyfriend to fuck her rather regularly she took to having one of her friends dick her down nice and hard. But that too didn’t induce labor, even after getting fucked several times a day all she got was more frustration from the fact that he was less than reciprocating to her own needs. It had now been two whole weeks and she hadn’t even felt so much as a contraction.

Now at her doctor at forty-two weeks, huge and overdue she wanted to know if she could be induced now. “Despite my stubborn boy, he does need to come out eventually”

Dr. Thompson of course said he would consult with her primary doctor on this matter. With the go-ahead, they were ready to begin. While a nurse was setting up the IV line Melissa was asked, “So you haven’t felt any labor pains? No Braxton hicks? Nothing?”

“I wish I did,” she said

Not that she had pitocin coursing through her system. They waited for the telltale sign that it was doing its job. They waited the allotted forty minutes, but Melissa didn’t feel a thing. Not so much as a single cramp. Her water didn’t even break. An hour passed, but still nothing. Ultrasounds confirmed the baby was alive and healthy. “I don’t understand it,” Dr. Thompson said aloud

Objecting to use it again. They started to wade in on the idea of their next course of action. Melissa stayed in the hospital that night as they kept a close eye on her. She ended up sleeping rather soundly that night. Only really woke up to pee cause her son was using her bladder like a pillow.

Several doctors were gathered around Thompson and Lipschitz. Looking at extra copies of the ultrasound other doctors weighed in on the matter. They noted that the baby hasn’t dropped into position yet which could be the root cause. One suggests that there may be a different method of induction. All of them still neglect the fact that Melissa was over forty-two weeks pregnant, and her water didn’t break even after having pitocin in her system. Hours passed, and before she knew it another day had passed.

Melissa finally buckled and relented to her earlier point. “Fine, just give me a C-section! Let’s get this over with,” she told them.

The doctors didn’t waste any time. However, it didn’t exactly go according to plan. Bizarre and unforeseen circumstances caused a pause or a hindrance every time she was going to be wheeled in for a cesarean. An electrical fire erupted as they prepared the room for Melissa. Another surgical room had the ceiling collapse in on it. The nurses talked amongst each other about how it felt like this was an eerie coincidence.

Melissa was starting to feel it too. “Am I just gonna be cursed to be pregnant forever?”

“No,” One nurse tried to console her. 

“Then why haven’t I felt anything, any sign that this kid is gonna be coming out of me.”

Unsure how to respond. The nurse simply replied, “I’m sure that your son will be coming out any day now,”

Another week passed and she was now three weeks overdue. Walking felt rather cumbersome, and her waddle stride didn’t feel like it covered enough ground. She complained about how her son was just getting heavier and heavier.

The doctors still didn’t have an answer. The hospital was rather cautious about attempting to induce her again. The two surgical rooms they had lost were still in the clean-up phases. They absolutely did not want to risk a freak accident happening again and taking out another room.

Despite the hospital administration's growing concerns, Melissa remained determined to go for another. A different hospital. A different part of town. Only to be met with the same thing. A freak accident, this one a chemical explosion, the cause of which was still being determined.

“Oh god,” Melissa uttered upon hearing the news that her procedure was being moved to another date. “I’m gonna be fucking pregnant forever aren’t I?” she asked with a melancholy head hunched down over her massive baby belly.

Melissa felt her son moving, a little food pressing against the skin. She closed her eyes and tried to hold back her tears. Was this supposed to be a sign? Was this her baby's way of telling her that he was never going to leave her?

Several more weeks had passed and she was now sitting at a staggering fifty-two weeks. Her stubborn boy refused to budge. Not so much as a sign that the baby was coming out. He rested nice and high, not even descending. It was getting harder for Melissa to walk around and carry the weight of this pregnancy.

Sitting down for too long made her legs go numb. And lying down she found it was getting harder to stand back up. The way she waddled she was bound to knock things down more and more making trips to the store all the more challenging. She was getting embarrassed by her size. She was beginning to feel like she was under some kind of curse, a curse to carry her son in her womb forever.

One night before bed. As she lay there overburdened Resting as comfortably as she could, she started to question her baby, “Why haven’t you come out? What did I do to you? I carried you, I fed you so you’d grow, I did everything to make sure you grew healthy.” She was starting to tear up, “So why… So why won’t you come out?”

She waited. Nothing. She felt him lay there against where her hand was but not so much as an arm moved.

“What did I do wrong?” she asked

That night in her dream, she was standing there massively overdue. In her dream, she knew she had been pregnant for years. Her son just got bigger and bigger, never leaving the confines of her womb. She strained her back to keep her massively distending pregnant belly from scraping against the floor. The floor was a pedestal of stained glass heavily embroidered with imagery of broken hearts. She could hear every plan she ever made, every little detail she had ever planned out. A single question from one person she had overlooked. An interaction that seemed rather unimportant at the time.

“It doesn't sound like you love them,” a woman commented she too was expecting a baby herself

It was when Melissa was in the store buying some maternity clothes. “That doesn’t matter, Until they’re here it's all about me,” she said arrogantly

“That’s so sad,” she commented back. “How could you not love them before they’re born?”

Something Melissa never answered then. She woke up to see her huge belly, her hand still resting on it gently. With a soft voice and a gentle caress, she muttered the words to her sleeping baby boy, “I love you, Joshua. I love you,”

She felt him move that fluttering feeling; like back in the earliest stages of her pregnancy. Melissa closed her eyes and said it again. Faintly she started to feel the weight shifting. And the sensation around her uterus. A tingle at first that got stronger. She was fifty-two weeks pregnant, and with three simple words, she started to feel the early signs of labor. Melissa hoped he’d be coming out soon, happy and healthy, she didn’t care what happened to her now. But it wasn’t to be, she carried for another forty-eight days with no sign of ending in sight. As week sixty approached its end, her waiting son chose then to begin his birthing.

#pregnant #pregnancy #pregnant story #female pregnancy #pregnant kink #preg #overdue pregnancy #very overdue pregnancy

[elisela]

‘this is my husband/boyfriend/partner etc.’ + NurseyDex

that's mine nurseydex, alternating pov

.

Nursey goes flying. Headfirst into the goal, arms flailing, Will thinks he hears a yelp sort of flying. He only resists the urge to roll his eyes because Bitty’s looking right at him and he doesn’t want a lecture. 

Still—when one of the assholes on the other team barks out a laugh and says, “Who was that, Bambi?”, Will can’t help but sigh.

“That’s my teammate, asshole,” he says, and cuts over to check him against the boards. 

—

Derek misses the days that the frogs were wide-eyed and respectful in the Haus. These kids—he’s going to need some sense knocked into them soon. They’re loud, rowdy, and far too interested in integrating into the group by joining in on the teasing, which is a right they have not yet earned.

Like now, when they’re giggling to themselves and looking at him.

“So—” one of them starts, smirking, and never finishes.

“So,” Derek repeats, jerking his thumb at Dex, “that’s my roommate.”

The laughter grates on his nerves, but not as much as pretending he doesn’t care about sharing a room with Dex.

—

Nursey is … singing? Will thinks that’s what he’s trying to do at least, and he’s heard him sing almost every day in the shower so the warbling coming out of his mouth is surprising. He’s not saying Nursey is good by any means, but he can sound decent with the right song and this … this is not the right song.

He doubts the fact that all the words being slurred thanks to being absolutely trashed is helping.

Will stays at the bar until the song is done, resolutely facing away from the somewhat dimly-lit karaoke stage so he doesn’t get dragged into participating. Luckily—or not, considering Ransom and Holster seem to have disappeared so the drunken idiot is now his responsibility—Nursey doesn’t say anything when he comes crashing up to the bar except, “Tequila shots?”

Will can barely understand him, but the look on his face—the one that appears whenever Nursey thinks he’s had a particularly good idea—speaks volumes. “Water,” he says firmly, sliding a waiting pint glass over. 

He really doesn’t understand whatever Nursey mumbles then, but he has more pressing problems, because his lap—previously empty of everything except his coat—is now occupied. “Jesus,” he mutters, trying to wiggle away. “Dude—Nursey—”

“S’comfy,” Nursey says, and Will tries once more to get him to move to his own seat with no avail.

The bartender, when she returns, gives Will a raised eyebrow. “He bothering you? I can get him out.”

Will sighs. “He’s a friend,” he says, and adds, “so he pretty much bothers me all the time.”

“Ya love me, pretty boy,” Nursey says. He starts to laugh—at what, Will has no clue—but it makes him wiggle in a way that Will isn’t sure he’s entirely comfortable with, and Nursey goes sliding to his own seat after another shove.

“Shut up and drink your water,” Will says, and motions to close their tab.

—

“That’s Jack,” Derek says, nudging his grandmother and pointing at the television, where Jack is leaning on the boards and chatting with the coach. “He’s on the Falconers.”

“I’m rooting for them,” she says, and tuts when Derek makes an aborted noise. “Hush, you don’t get to choose who I like. Is he a defender?”

Derek’s been playing hockey most of his life and every time he watches a game with his grandma it’s like she’s never heard of the sport before. “No, he’s not a defenseman,” he says. God help him, he’s never going to get through this game alive. 

The shot switches to a close-up and she hums. “Handsome.”

Derek shrugs. Jack’s fine, he supposes. A bit too bland for him, nothing that really stands out, not like—”And that’s Dex—Will—over there, in the white. Will—he’s my—” he swallows a bit too hard.

“If you think I haven’t figured out you like men and women, Derek, we’re going to need to have a conversation regarding your assumptions about my intelligence.”

He wonders if God would actually strike him down if he prayed hard enough. “He’s my boyfriend, Gram,” he says, staring resolutely at the television.

She hums again. “That Jack is more handsome though, don’t you think?”

It’s going to be a long game.

—

Will’s trying to hide. Table at the back, hat still on and pulled down low, black hoodie and black jeans. Anything to make himself blend into the background, because he doesn’t want to be caught dead here.

He also doesn’t want to be involved in any conversations, not that the girls at the table next to him have picked up on that. He’d made two fatal errors: being cordial when one of them had said hello, and admitting he’s never been to an open-mic poetry night.

They haven’t stopped talking to him since. 

“Okay, this guy—I’m not sure he’s your type, you know? Not that you aren’t like, super intelligent—I mean you’re here, right, so obviously—but he has a lot of heavy themes in his work if you really dig in and you really need to hear them a few times to peel back the layers. I’m hoping he reads the tree above the grave again, it’s—”

She cuts off, finally, when a cough sounds from the front and Derek begins to speak. There’s utter silence while he recites words that Will’s heard a hundred times over in various iterations, tweaked and stressed and polished until he could probably say them in his sleep, then an excited outburst of conversation among applaus when it’s over.

“Amazing, right?” she says, and keeps talking while Will nods. “Have you heard of him before?”

Will looks at her. “He’s the one I came for,” he answers honestly, grinning for the first time all night when he sees Derek making his way over. “He’s my husband.”

#'this is the only fic i'll write' i said #ha #what an idiot i am #nurseydex #missanniewhimsy #eli writes #omgcp

[writers-potion]

Idea Generation Exercises for the Writer

"Right now it's a notion, but I think I can get money to turn it into a concept..and later turn it into an idea."

Take a Good Look Inside Yourself Before Your Start

Your story comes from you. Evaluate your ideas and modify them using a "personality filter". Does it hit a nerve in your soul? Do you resonate, personally, with what the story is aimed at?

What do you care most about in the world?

If you were to write your own obituary, how would you want it to read?

What is your physical appearance? How do you feel about it? How does it affect you?

What do you fear the most?

What are our major strengths? What do youwish you were good at?

What are your major faults?

If you could do one thing and know that you would be successful, what would you do?

What are three events from your childhood that helped shape you into the person you are today?

What are some of your annoying habits?

What secret in your life do you hope is never revealed?

Some Rules:

Schedule a regular idea time. At least once a week, for more than 30 minutes

Select an idea-generation exercise below

Let your imagination run wilde

Record everything without cutting anything. Do NOT xensor yourself in any way

After 2-3 sessions, assess you ideas

Repeat.

The What-If Game: read the newspaper/watch TV, asking "What If" at the end of each article.

Titles: come up with a good title, then craft a story that would go with it

The List: Make a list of nouns that bring back some memory to you with one- or two- word reminders. (e.g. the hill: that I accidentally set fire to when I was 5)

Issues: make a list of this world's problems that push your buttons. What make you angry? (e.g. abortion, gun control, talk shows)

See It: Sit down and close your eyes. List the first three things that comes to your mind, picking the ones that get your juices flowing the most. Sit back and "watch" as the random story unspools in your mind.

Hear It: Listen to music that moves you. Close your eyes and see what pictures, scenes or characters develop.

Character First: Develop a dynamic character, then see where he leads. Recreating characters from popular TV/books/movies or going through obituaries can be helpful.

Stealing From the Best: Take the germ of another plot, then add your own twist to it. Originality is the key to plagiarism.

Flipping a Genre: Turn genre/trope expectations upside down and see what happens.

Predict a Trend: Novels can be "hot" because of the subject matter alone. Read the news and see what people are killing each other over nowadays - and hop on the topical wave!

Noodling the Newspaper: Scan the newspaper for interesting stories, something you can use later. Capture interesting pieces of info and store it away for later.

Research: Choose a nonfiction book on some subject you wanted to know about. Skim the book for an overview, then jot down the ideas that come to you. Read the book in more detail, and flesh out the ideas you have.

"What I Really Want to Write About Is...": Get up in the morning and start typing on a blank document: what i reallt want to write about is.... Just write for ten minutes without stopping to loosen up your senses.

Obsession: Create a character and give her an obsession. By its nature, an obsession controls the deepest emotions of a character and thus prompts her to action. Ego? Lust? Looks? Careers? Revenge?

Opening Lines: Write just the opening lines. Then, write a story that goes with it.

Write a Prologue: Gripping openings are farily easy to write. The trick is putting a book after it. The ideas you generate with a good proglogue may lead to a full story.

The Mind Map: (1) choose a word or concept. (2) allow you mind to jot down connections to the word. Fill the paper. (3) Look for a pattern. Can you link these items into a story?

Socko Ending: Ending often make or break a story. Visualize a climactic scene in the theater of your mind. Play around with the characters, heighten the conflict and emotion until something unforgettable happens. Then ask: (1) who are the characters? (2) what circumstance brought them there? (3) how can I trace back the story to its logical starting point?

Occupations: What we do is inherent to our ways of thinking, the kind of culture we live in, etc. Refer to the Dictionary of Occupational Titles and see which occupations spark an idea.

Desperation: You're sitting before a blank screen and there's nothing in your head. You're down to your last two brain cells and slowly losing one of them. Good. You are a desperate writer. The answer:

JUST WRITE.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee! ☕

Reference: <Write Great Fiction: Plot and Structure (techniques and exercises for craftin a plot that grips readers from start to finish)> by James Scott Bell

#writer #writers #creative writing #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writing inspiration #writeblr #writing tips #writers corner #writers community #poets and writers #writing advice #writing resources #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #helping writers #writing help #writing tips and tricks #how to write #writing life #let's write #resources for writers #references for writers #writing prompt #on writing #writerscommunity #writer on tumblr #writer things

[carlsdarling]

We need a 3 of no mercy please I beg of you

No Mercy Part III

Many requests for this 😊 The love-hate-story between Carl and Negan's daughter continues... Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, angst, abortion theme, unprotected sex

You had been back in the sanctuary for a few weeks now. After your period failed to start and the nausea continued, you panicked and took a count. Your periods had never been regular, but now you came to the conclusion that you hadn't bled in at least eight or nine weeks. The last time you had bled was before you had slept with Carl for the first time, that time behind the horse stables. Anyone who wasn't completely naive could have figured it out sooner: You were pregnant. You sat in your room and sobbed desperately. Under no circumstances must your father find out about it.

No, you could not have this baby. There was not even a doctor in the sanctuary since your father had burned the last one alive. In your distress, you sought out Amber, who - at least that was your assumption - knew about such things. "Amber, I'm pregnant," you said straightforwardly.

She looked at you with widened eyes. "It's not really true, is it? You're kidding."

"No, it's true." You burst into tears.

Amber quickly locked the door to her room. "Okay, and who's it from?"

"It's Carl's. Carl Grimes," you confessed, embarrassed.

"What!" exclaimed Amber in horror. "Oh my god, Y/N. Negan is going to flay you and Carl alive."

"He mustn't know, Amber, I can't have this baby!" Full of panic, you clutched her thin wrist. "What can I do?"

"How do you feel about Carl?" inquired Amber sympathetically. "Was it just a one-night stand, or...?"

It took you a long time to answer. "No, it was... more. I hated him like hell in the beginning," you said pensively. "We still had sex on and off, and it was great. But then... Carl is... he's so special. I think maybe I've grown to like him. A little bit, at least." Sheepishly, you played with the bed covers. "But it's not mutual, unfortunately," you then added sadly.

"Too bad," was all Amber said, "Carl's got guts, and he's handsome, too. It was very brave of him to break into the Sanctuary back then. He'll make a good leader someday." You had never thought of it that way - to you, Carl's action had just been stupid and careless. Now you realized that Amber was right and how courageous Carl was; even all the other times he had rebelled against Negan, even though Negan was much older and stronger than Carl was. He had never let your father intimidate him. Not even when Negan wanted Rick to cut off his arm. "Didn't you use any protection?"

"Well, sometimes not," you evaded, hiding from her that Carl's breeding kink had been part of your mutual attraction. You yourself had loved the feeling of him lavishly spilling his seed into you, and now you were receiving the reward. Somehow you had assumed that nothing would happen. Which had been stupid, of course.

„How long is it since your last period?“

"More than two months," you mumbled.

Amber took a deep breath. "That's too late for the morning-after pill. Way too late."

Frantically, you considered, "What other options are there?"

"Without a doctor? Hardly any, unless you want to die trying to get an abortion," Amber clarified to you relentlessly.

You cried again. "But there must be something! Herbs, something! Wait." An idea had occurred to you. You walked over to Amber's closet and pulled out a wire coathanger. "I saw this in a movie once. You have to help me."

"No, Y/N. Oh no. Forget it," Amber fought back. "You're going to bleed to death, and it's my fault."

"Like you just said, Amber. My father is going to kill me. Please," you pleaded.

She relented against her knowledge. "All right, same time tomorrow, here. Katya will be back soon. And I can't promise you it'll work, and it'll be painful as fuck." You nodded in embarrassment and fear. The danger of dying during an amateurishly performed abortion was real.

                                                           ***

You went back to your room and wept. You didn't want to abort Carl's baby, that was the truth. You constantly saw Carl's cute face in front of you, heard his mocking remarks, felt his hot breath on your skin. You were dreaming of him. You were longing for him. You might as well admit it to yourself: You loved Carl Grimes, and you missed him sorely. And now you were carrying his child, and that couldn't be. You'd probably never see each other again, and either way Carl wouldn't want a baby with you, let alone a relationship.

But everything turned out differently than planned. When you went to dress yourself the next morning, your father burst into your room without knocking as you stood there in your underwear. Horrified, you stared at him, unable to cover yourself. Negan's gaze immediately captured your swollen breasts and ever so slightly bulging belly. His eyebrows rose, then he averted his eyes in bewilderment. "Come to my office immediately when you are dressed," he ordered expressionlessly.

You were standing in front of him with a palpitating heart. "Whose is it?" he demanded to know harshly. "It can only have happened in Alexandria, you are already starting to show, and you were vomiting on the ride over here." Angrily, he marched back and forth.

"It... it's from Carl," you said in a low voice.

Your father eyed you, stunned. "Please what?" he then shouted. "You were spreading your legs for the future serial killer? Unbelievable," he laughed bitterly.

"No, it wasn't like that, it..."

"What do you mean? Did he rape you?" he asked lurkingly.

"No!" you said firmly. If Negan believed that, he wouldn't rest until he had killed Carl. "No. It was... consensual." Your face reddened.

„Fuck it“, Negan ruffled his hair, perplexed. "Get your bag and come along," he then ordered, grabbing your arm and dragging you outside. There he gestured for you to get in the car.

"But what..." you started.

"We're driving to Alexandria," Negan announced grimly. "Let's see what fucking Carl Grimes has to say about this. And Rick, under whose roof you've been living." The ride passed in silence, except that once again you felt nauseous. You were tense and anxious, unable to gauge what your father was up to and how things would proceed. Finally, the Alexandria gate appeared in front of you; the guards immediately got into position when they recognized Negan. He got out and raised his hands in the air. "I want to talk to Rick," he demanded. "You see, I'm not armed." It wasn't long before Rosita and Daryl escorted you both to Rick's house. You hadn't seen Carl in so long, your heart pounded excitedly and somehow you felt an anxious anticipation mixed with fear.

Rick gazed open-mouthed at you and asked you into the kitchen in a reserved manner. "I thought we had everything settled for now," he said icily to Negan. "So why are you stalking us again?"

"Well, it's not my fault," Negan replied aggressively. At that moment, Carl entered the kitchen, closely followed by Enid. They held hands, and you quickly looked down at the floor. You never thought it would hurt so much, although you should have expected him to find another girl. He probably loved Enid - he had never loved you. Carl looked from one to the other in surprise.

"I don't understand," Rick said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Well, it's about Y/N and Carl," Negan replied with a cutting tone. "I assumed Y/N was safe under your roof! You personally guaranteed her safety!“

Rick began to look more and more confused. To him, you seemed to be in good health; a little pale, perhaps. "Enid, go home. Carl, you stay here," he then ordered in a bossy voice. Enid kissed Carl goodbye and disappeared with her head down. "Now speak up," he then turned to Negan. "Will you stop talking in riddles?" You and Carl exchanged a cautious, uncertain look.

"These two here got it going!" accused Negan at him. "Carl fucked my daughter. In your house, Rick! Don't tell me you didn't notice!"

Rick was scratching his head, perplexed and surprised. "I actually didn't, you'll have to take my word for that, Negan," he then muttered. "I just noticed that they liked each other - even if they denied it. But what the hell, they're teenagers, it's only normal for them to engage in sexual experiences, you can't help it, and..."

"Y/N is pregnant!" yelled Negan. "Your scumbag of a son made her a baby!"

Now Rick was left speechless, and Carl looked completely shocked, while you started crying miserably. No one wanted this baby but you, and everyone saw you and the pregnancy as a problem, an inconvenience. Rick grabbed Carl's wrist. "Carl! Is this true?" he asked sharply.

Carl widened his eye, overwhelmed. "I, uhm, well... it's true, we had sex." His cheeks were bright red with bashfulness.

"And did you use protection, yes or no?" barked Rick angrily, while Negan watched the whole thing with his eyebrows furrowed.

Meanwhile, Michonne entered the kitchen. "What's going on?" she wanted to know in wonder. "What's he doing here?" Accusingly, she pointed at Negan.

Rick paid no attention to her, he focused on Carl. "Yes or no, Carl?" he insisted.

"No," the latter admitted sheepishly, looking down at his shoes.

"You've got to be kidding me," Rick groaned, letting go of Carl and sinking into a chair, cradling his face in his hands. "Carl and Y/N slept with each other without using protection, and now Y/N is pregnant," he informed Michonne. "Carl, are you fucking nuts?" he then hissed in anger. "We did give you the talk on time, didn't we?"

"Now don't all pick on Carl," you timidly spoke up. "It's just as much my fault."

"Yes, indeed, it is!" your father snapped at you. "Are you too dumb to know about condoms?"

"I didn't think you'd be so irresponsible and stupid," Rick stated, shaking his head, looking at you and Carl in disbelief.

"Stop arguing now," Michonne intervened. "That's pointless. What's more important is how to proceed. How far along are you, Y/N?"

"I don't know," you said shyly. "Maybe by the tenth week?"

"We could ask Denise if abortion is still an option," Rick reasoned.

"And take the risk that Y/N won't survive it? Your Denise is not a surgeon," Negan objected. Carl remained silent.

"Y/N, what do you want? And Carl, what do you say?" Michonne looked from one to the other. "You both made this baby, after all."

"I... would it be possible for me to talk to Y/N alone?" asked Carl hesitantly. Your hands grew sweaty with stress.

Rick and Negan looked at each other. "Alright," Negan then conceded suspiciously. "But only where I can keep an eye on you guys."

The two of you went outside and stopped in front of each other not far from the kitchen window. "Ummm... so you're pregnant," Carl noted uneasily, nibbling his fingernails. So now was the time he would tell you that he felt nothing for you - nothing positive, anyway - that his heart belonged to Enid and he wanted nothing to do with the baby.

You tried not to cry as you said, "Yes. And before you start doubting it, yes, it's yours, Carl!" you added, hurt. "I have not been with anybody else but you."

He looked at you in amazement. "I know," he said, touching your cheek lightly. "I... I thought about you a lot when you were gone," he then explained, suddenly looking deep into your eyes. "Y/N, I know you don't feel the same way, but I missed you," he said softly.

"And... and Enid?" you asked in a squeaky voice.

Carl sighed. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he said unhappily. "Enid's awesome, but... I simply can't forget you."

"Carl, I like you," you blurted out, starting to sob after all. "I like you a lot, in fact."

He smiled delightedly. Carefully, he took your hands. "Could you imagine being with me? That we'd have the baby together?" You nodded tearfully. "Then come on, we'll tell them."

"You guys want to do what?" exclaimed Rick.

"We want to be together," Carl confirmed. "In fact, we like each other. I'm going to break up with Enid, and I'm going to take care of my kid."

Michonne, Rick and Negan looked at each other, wordless and baffled. Negan was the first to regain his composure. "All right, you're both coming with me to the Sanctuary then," he decided.

"That's out of the question," Rick immediately objected.

"We don't even have a doctor," you said reproachfully to your father. "And I want to stay here with Carl." Negan shook his head stubbornly. "We're not coming with you," you said petulantly.

"Y/N needs medical attention," Michonne pointed out.

Negan pondered. "All right," he finally relented. "Actually, I don't want the future serial killer in Sanctuary either," he growled with a sideways glance at Carl, who was nervously fiddling with his flannel shirt. "He's just stirring everyone up. But for now, just until Y/N gives birth. Then we'll see." Carl and you fell into each other's arms relieved.

                                                           **

Later in Carl's room, you finally gave in to your desire for each other and embraced. Carl stared raptly at the tiny bulge of your belly. "It's hard to believe you're really pregnant by me," he said astounded, touching your belly.

"Did you fuck Enid?" you wanted to know. The thought of it hurted you.

"Let's not talk about Enid," Carl dodged the question and kissed you again. "I'll talk to her first thing tomorrow. I hope she understands."

And I hope it doesn't turn out that Enid is also expecting now, you thought darkly.

"Carl, if... if we have sex now like we always do, it could harm the baby," you remarked fearfully.

He gave you a naughty grin. "Also, even though we're both into hard sex, we can do it gently for a while," he suggested. You kissed and moved to the bed, where you slowly undressed and caressed each other. Carl looked at you lovingly. "I've missed you so much," he whispered, as he lay carefully on top of you.

You couldn't wait to feel him inside you. "I missed you too," you said, spreading your legs for him. „I want you so badly, Carl.“

"Yeah, I can tell," Carl teased you, "You're soaking my entire bed right now." He propped himself up on his elbows and tenderly penetrated you, looking deep into your eyes while slowly pounding in you.

You arched your back in delight as he eagerly thrusted into you. "Oh, Carl," you breathed into his ear. "It's so good." Carl looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, all slick with your moisture and his precum. It was an incredibly arousing sight. He unfolded your labia with his index finger and changed his position slightly, so that his pelvis rubbed against your clit, driving you completely insane. "Carl," you whimpered, kissing his neck and ear. "Faster, please," you gasped, and Carl increased his pace until he was ramming his cock into you fiercely and you cried out as you cum and reared up under him, wrapping your legs around him.

Carl gave you two more orgasms so that you were just a quivering, begging mess, then he moaned loudly. "I'm cumming," he sighed, and his cum filled you warmly, there was so much that it immediately leaked out of you again, staining the already wet and sticky sheets.

You lay together relaxing and stroking each other. Carl's heart was beating a fast rhythm, and you remembered the day when you feared he was dead. "I was really afraid then that you were dead or turned," you said softly. "I couldn't have stand it."

"And I thought you really hated me and didn't reciprocrate my feelings," he admitted. "Yet I was already in love with you. I couldn't admit it, though." He smiled wryly.

"Carl?" you asked after a while, as you lay snuggled together, enjoying your intimacy and being so close to each other.

"Huh?" he replied sleepily.

"May I see your eye?"

He sat up, suddenly appearing to be tense. "Um... why?" he hesitated.

"Well, now that we live together and everything... you don't have to hide it from me anymore," you said softly. „It's certainly not good for the scar if you keep it bandaged at night, just because you're shy in front of me.“

With shaky fingers, Carl fiddled with the bandage, then dropped his hands again. "Y/N? Please, don't say anything spiteful about it," he pleaded. "Whether you really mean it or not, I don't care. Just don't do it." You had never before seen Carl so vulnerable. "I know it looks gross."

You hugged him tightly; you wanted him to feel safe with you. "Carl, it doesn't matter. I don't care what it looks like. It’s ok." He precariously took off the bandage without glancing at you. Well, it wasn't the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, but it was part of him, and you didn't mind. You would soon get used to the sight, and then it would just be normal. Not beautiful, not hideous, just normal.

"It... it looks nasty, doesn't it?" he asked anxiously.

"It does look bad ass," you said honestly. "But seriously, I don't give a fuck, and I don't think it's ugly. I love you, Carl.“ You pressed your smooth cheek against his right, maimed one.

He hugged you back with relief. "I love you too, Y/N." His lips touched yours.

___

Taglist:

@genshinsbiggestsimp

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes smut #carl fanfiction #carl grimes #carl grimes imagines

[ibrithir-was-here]

What were interactions between toddler and/or kid Quincey and his Father like? i imagine the Count spent at least some one-on-one time with his little diavol

Oooh he was all about this unholy child-thing,born with fangs, hungring for blood from birth. The child can grow and learn and walk the day without loosing strength, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to him in ages! And the chance for moulding this new kind of creature from birth in his image almost makes up for all the inconvenience he’s had to suffer since his aborted move to England. It’s certainly a delightfully entertaining new way to keep his two new acquisitions in line.

He’d never had an heir, one doesn’t need children to carry on a legacy when one plans to live forever. But it’s been so long since any of his possessions really interested him to this degree, and he finds he’s rather thrilled to take on the title of ‘Father’.

He’s more than happy to let Jonathan and Mina deal with all the actual parenting parts though,. Childcare is for women and vassals, babies are loud and messy and he has far more important things to do, like standing menacingly on a turret plotting future conquests and remembering the glory days.

But he always makes time to take the child under his wing and teach him his Lessons. Like the glorious history of his house, the proper way to introduce one’s self in company to put them at ease so as to better needle out their weaknesses, the best way to break an enemy’s spirit. True the boy seems to have a soft heart now, no doubt due to his Papa’s meddlesome influence, but Dracula knew from the first time the days old infant bite at him, searching for blood, that he’d found a whole new means of immortality

Also Doodling/writing all this reminded me of a certain conversation over on Discord about Dracula wanting to preen just a little too much one night…

(Obviously Jonno does survive but this incident is yet another reason that Quincey getting careless when those teenage growth spurts hit really freaks Mina out)

Also if you want some really great Dracula interactions with young Quincey in the Blood of my Blood AU please go read @pinkninjapj ‘s excellent fics

"Lessons"

"Love is Loyalty"

Honestly go read all their stuff it’s sooo goood and delightfully creepy, they were very influential in creating the dynamic between Quincey and the Count in this

Edit: Been pointed out that I should make clear that Quincey here is still only Jonathan and Mina's son. He's only a vampire because Mina got bit while carrying him. Dracula is in no way his bio dad--he's just the guy who decided to try and steal the title :p

#my art #blood of my blood #Dracula #quincey harker #mina harker #jonathan harker #other people’s awesome writing #friend writing #dracula fanart #dracula fanfiction #dracula bad ending #(I promise we will jump back to the on going story I just hit a lame Winter Low Energy bit 😅) #tw blood #tw teeth