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steddieas-shegoes · 7 days

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cw: mentions of scarring, canon-typical violence, flashback (not graphic), minor body horror (again, not graphic, mostly just emotional feelings about scars)

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Everyone gave him weird looks when they walked in, quickly schooling their features when they noticed he was awake and watching them.

He didn’t know exactly what that was about.

They had him on a lot of good drugs.

But eventually he got weaned off them, and he noticed the pull of bandages on his side, and his arm, and his neck, and his face.

He was still unable to get out of bed. Still couldn’t even reach his arms above his chest for more than a few seconds.

But he damn sure reached up to feel the cloth and plastic surrounding his cheek. How had he not noticed for days? How had no one bothered him about it?

Maybe they had and he just didn’t notice. The morphine was one hell of a drug.

Wayne was soft, patient with him. Saw him touching it, saw the way his eyes filled with tears. He’d never been particularly vain, hadn’t cared much about what he looked like to others, but this felt bigger than that. This felt like he was changed in a way that everyone could see.

Add it to the list of things people could bully him for.

He cried himself to sleep, Wayne’s hand in his, silently comforting in the way he’d always done.

When he woke up again the next morning, he was alone.

It was the first time he’d been alone since the boathouse.

He could swear he heard bats outside his door, screams coming from the attached bathroom, flashes of someone dying on the ceiling.

He felt the sharp sting of teeth puncturing his skin.

He felt hopelessness creep into his bones as he gave in.

Maybe this time they would finish the job.

“Eddie!”

Steve Harrington’s voice broke through the thoughts, panicked enough to bring Eddie back to his hospital bed within a second of hearing it.

“Shit, are you okay?” He continued, hand brushing against Eddie’s bandaged cheek.

Eddie nodded once, closed his eyes, leaned into the touch.

He could blame it on any number of things if Steve felt weird about it. The morphine, the flashback, the loneliness.

“You’re okay, Eddie. I promise. Won’t let anything happen to you,” Steve whispered.

Eddie believed him.

He fell back asleep with Steve’s hand gently cupping the mangled side of his face.

If Steve could still touch him there, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Steve came by every day, sometimes in the early morning, before visiting hours officially started, sometimes well after Wayne had left to get some sleep. He always smiled when he walked in, a genuine one, not the one everyone else gave that was so fully of pity and pain he couldn’t bear to make eye contact. He sat down on the side of the bed, not the chair like everyone else, not scared to be close.

And every single day, without fail, he would run his finger along the edge of Eddie’s bandage on his face, watching his own movements and cataloging any changes.

Eddie sat quietly, still, scared to put words to anything happening. Scared to tell Steve what it meant to him to have someone acknowledge his pain in this way. Scared to think Steve could mean anything by it.

It was easy to pretend Steve was doing this because he cared.

Maybe he did care.

But he didn’t care the way Eddie wanted him to, needed him to.

So he stayed quiet, still.

He watched.

He fell asleep while Steve talked about his day, the kids, what Joyce made Hopper do around the house.

He woke up alone most days, but that was okay, because Steve would be there eventually.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

“You ready to get that thing off?” Wayne asked, gesturing to the bandage.

“Oh. Today?” Eddie suddenly didn’t want to ever be without the bandage. Removing it meant he’d see what was under it.

It meant seeing how much that place had ruined him.

The pull of the stitches hadn’t been as obvious with the pull of the bandage masking it.

But now it’s all he felt.

The nurse smiled at him as she put some antibiotic cream over the area, saying he would probably still have to keep it extra clean for the next week or so while the stitches did their job.

Wayne smiled at him in the way that meant he didn’t really want to smile at all, but knew Eddie needed him to.

Steve didn’t come.

Eddie didn’t sleep.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

He woke up with panic in his chest and a silent scream in his throat.

He woke up with Steve’s hand on his face.

Gentle, soft, but a strong comfort.

“Promise I washed them first. They said we have to be careful about germs,” Steve said quietly.

“You don’t have to. I know it’s…it’s gross. It’s ugly. I’m ugly.”

Steve shook his head. “No. Not gross. Not ugly. Alive.”

“Steve-“

“You’re alive, Eddie. You could have your entire face held together by staples and you would still be a miracle. You’d still be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Well, Steve’s charm wasn’t an exaggeration, was it?

He wasn’t even sure if the skin barely pulled together could blush anymore, or if the heat that should be on his cheek was burning on the outside the way it felt like it was on the inside.

“It’s gonna be awful when it heals. I saw it in the mirror.” Eddie could feel every stitch in his jaw, the few that spread across the corner of his mouth and bottom lip, the ones that were nearly up to his ear. “I’ll always have a crooked face. The scar will always be huge. It’s all anyone will see.”

“Then they aren’t looking.”

Eddie bit his lip, eyes searching Steve’s. “But you are.”

“No. I’m seeing. There’s a difference. I see you. I see what you’ve survived. I see the mark it left on you. I know it wasn’t just the scars that cover your skin.” Steve leaned his head down, touching Eddie’s forehead with his own. “We all have them. And we’re all still here. Your heart’s beating. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Who knew you were so good with words?” Eddie smiled sadly.

“Robin says I’m just good at not having a filter.”

“She’s right as always.” Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, turning as slowly as he could to kiss his palm. “You’re not scared of it.”

“No. Are you?”

“I’m scared that you’ll change your mind when it’s always there as a reminder of what happened.”

Steve kissed his nose, making him smile for the first time in what felt like years.

“I’ll have the reminder that I got you out of there. That no matter what, the bats couldn’t finish the job. That you were stronger and you made it.” Steve let his hand drop, but quickly laced his fingers with Eddie’s. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you to trust me, but will you? For today?”

“Just today?”

“I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“And what? Every day after that?”

Steve smirked.

His eyes were glistening with tears, but Eddie could tell it wasn’t sadness or fear.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

They hadn’t even talked about feelings, not really. Nothing that made any sense to Eddie, nothing that they could define. A part of Eddie was still convinced he was in a coma and dreaming this entire conversation up.

But even the nurse had noticed the way Steve watched him, how he touched him, how he fought for him. She said he’d been a firecracker from the moment he carried him into the hospital, dripping blood on the tile, staining the halls with his demands for help.

Wayne said he barely left his side the first day, only doing so when the doctors had told him they would call the cops if he didn’t.

Erica even noticed how things had changed between them, stating that she refused to watch her babysitter and the only DM she had respect for make out.

But Steve held Eddie, made him feel like he could get out of the hospital bed and live a life that wouldn’t keep him running. Steve was there.

Steve might even love him. If not now, then some day.

And Eddie could trust him today.

He could probably trust him tomorrow.

“Kiss me?” Eddie probably shouldn’t. The stitches tugged when he talked, and another mouth anywhere near his wounds was just asking for an infection.

But Steve would be careful. He knew what Eddie could handle.

It was barely a kiss. A graze of the lips at most.

But it was the best kiss Eddie had ever had.

At least until tomorrow.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #yall I am having thoughts about Eddie with a very large face scar and it led to this #I know people have drawn stuff before but I’m #I mean like what I am thinking is from his bottom lip across his entire jaw #to his ear and then down his neck #and it’s not remotely even or straight #very jagged when it heals because they weren’t really aiming for stitching it straight they just wanted to get it closed #also a firm believer that Steve has no filter at all and is SO GOOD at romantic declarations because of it #like he doesn’t edit anything #if he loves you you’ll know because he says I love you in all words except those at first #anyways wrote this during dessert for my besties birthday dinner so #not checking for typos hope there aren’t any lmao #if my phone autocorrected she’s probably wrong

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ovaryacted · 3 months

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ok bothering u with another big-brained thought about sub!leon..

leon thinking he's in charge because you let him cum in your mouth only for you to grab him by the throat, part his pretty lips, and spit it back down his throat so he swallows his own cum <3333

and he would do it because he's so fucked out and pathetic for you!!! he is such a good boy!!!!

ok, hahaha. i need to take a cold shower byeeee

love, elle

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

ELLE YESSSSS I like this sooo much omg. Pls keep bothering me with your big brained ideas cause I LOVE THEM MUAH.

The instant switch that goes off in his head from dom to sub when he thinks he has power over you because you let him fuck your throat and of course it feels good. He doesn’t ask to get his dick sucked in the first place, usually he’s content with getting whatever he could out of you, whether that be a kiss or your cunt, he doesn’t care. So long as he’s touching you, that’s all that matters to him.

But when you come back up to kiss him and he tastes himself on your tongue, it makes him twitch underneath you all over again. And there’s a lightbulb that goes off in his head when it happens, and now you’re in full control of him. Hand on his neck, pushing him back towards the bed and straddling him. All he can do is whine under his breath when he feels you grinding against his cock, his tip pressing against your entrance over and over again and never really slipping inside. It’s just enough friction to feel good, but not enough for him to feel the way he really wants.

You tease him so much he feels like crying, like he might die if he doesn’t get to feel you clenching and pulsing around him. But before he could fall apart, you slam your hips down, hearing the delicious shaky moan he releases before cumming inside prematurely from of all the edging. And you don’t stop, you can’t stop. You don’t plan on getting him off easily until he’s an overstimulated crying mess underneath you. You’re going to fuck him until he can’t think and he’s drooling, and when you kiss him again, you can still taste him on your tongue and that helps you cum faster.

What’s better yet is when you spit in his mouth directly, just get to see how the drool starts to spill out of his mouth when your fucking him. Whether or not it’s with a strap or with your pussy, he’ll be fucked out of his mind either way.

#ovaryacted asks #₊˚⊹ ♡ ─ elle baby 🧡#sub leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy drabble #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #this is so big brained of you bestie #I wrote this at work LMFAOO #I’m just crazy

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virescent-v · 5 months

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I’ve always wanted to see a fic surrounding this: the aftermath of Emily’s rescue from Mr Scratch. Maybe a fluffy bath moment at home or sweet smut vibes?

Aftermath

A/N: Bestie! I loved this idea. Tbh, I had to watch that ep first because I had no idea who Mr Scratch was. I'm only on s5 of my watch through hahaha. But I watched it, and wrote this! I hope it does it some justice. I think this is really my first take at a hurt/comfort fic.

Word Count: 1.6k (I broke my less than 1k word challenge, oops) Warnings: honeslty, not too much. There is some slight smut tho.

You were told to wait at home. But the wait was excruciating.

You hadn’t gotten many details from Penelope other than Emily had been kidnapped, drugged, and had gotten rescued. She was otherwise unharmed. You only knew that she was chasing a high profile psychopath; someone that had even Hotchner running into WITSEC.

So, you were waiting. Impatiently. For your girlfriend to come home. So you could check her over yourself, especially since you knew she wasn’t going to be responsible and go to the hospital.

You were broken out of your inner anxious ramblings by Emily stumbling through the front door, all but dropping her bags at her feet and practically running right to you.

“Em,” you whispered, gathering her in your arms. You could feel her slightly shaking, the adrenaline of everything finally crashing on her. “You’re home, baby, and safe. You’re safe now,” you said, continuing to whisper sweet words to her, rubbing your hands on her back, helping to wear off some of the epinephrine coursing through her.

You tried to pull away, so you could look at her, really look at her, but her arms shot out and grabbed you around your waist, pulling you even closer to her. Like she was trying to burrow into you.

“Not yet,” she whispered, her nose dragging up the side of your neck, breathing in your perfume.

“Okay, okay.”

It takes a couple of minutes; you can feel Emily mouthing something against your skin, as if she’s trying to ground herself, reminding herself that she’s not with him anymore. Eventually, though, she loosens her grip on you, allowing you to look at her face for the first real time since she got home.

When your eyes connect, you can see the tears shining in hers. You can feel the weight of her stare, silently communicating between the two of you.

I almost died.

But you didn’t, love. You’re home.

You trail your hand up her arm, across her shoulder, and over her heart.

You’re alive. You’re safe.

As you tap your pointer finger on her chest in time with her heartbeat, she takes a shuddering breath, a few tears finally making their way down her cheek. She blinks a few times, not trying to hide the emotion escaping her, before taking a deep breath that seems to use all of her remaining energy.

“Can- can we take a bath?” She asks, timidly. As if you would ever deny her anything.

You don’t say anything. You just grasp her hand in yours and lead her to your bathroom. You sit her on the toilet, tucking some of her stray hair behind her ears. You reach over to your oversized tub, turning the water to just on the side of scalding. The temperature Emily prefers.

As the tub fills, you watch Emily, rubbing your hands on her knees. She’s still occasionally shaking, but not as badly as when she came in. Her gaze isn’t focused on anything, worrying you that she might start receding back to memories from earlier. You know she’ll be hit with nightmares later, something you’ve dealt with before and know how to handle. You just want to prevent that for right now.

Once the tub is full, you add some bath water oils, a eucalyptus smell. You’ve found that it’s better for keeping Emily calm over lavender or vanilla smells.

You start to strip, placing your clothes in the hamper. Emily still isn’t focusing on anything, her eyes settled on her hands on her lap. She isn’t even registering that the bath is ready, so you approach her quietly.

“Em, baby, the bath is ready. You need to get undressed.”

Her eyes tracked up your body, but there wasn’t her normal heat in her gaze. Only as if she was making sure that it was really you.

When your eyes connected, you had to stop yourself from gasping. Her eyes were turning red from trying not to cry, almost overflowing with unshed tears.

You crouched down in front of her, your nude form not even a worry. You rubbed your thumbs across her cheeks, trying to get her to release her emotions. You’d take them from her if you could.

Emily feels your thumbs rubbing back and forth, letting your love for her ground her to this moment. Eventually, she closes her eyes tight, all of the tears breaking free, and she starts to sob. She collapses into you, burrowing into your neck again. This time, you can hear her mumbling, wheels up, I’m home, wheels up, I’m home over and over again. A mantra.

You give her a few minutes, letting her get out most of the current wave of emotion. You know it’ll hit her again later, likely many times, and you know you’ll take them all in stride. Anything for her.

Another deep breath, another slow release from you. You reach over and grab some toilet paper, wiping at her teary, snotty face. You can tell she almost cracks a smile at the noise her nose makes when she blows it into the tissue; she’s slowly coming back to herself.

After you toss the tissue in the trash, you grab the hem of her shirt. Tugging on it, Emily raises her arms, allowing you to undress her. There’s no sexual charge to your movements; this is purely emotional, intimate connection between you and your girl.

You get in the tub first, spreading your legs so Emily can settle between them. Usually, she’s behind you, always pampering you. It’s only on rare occasions do you get to be the one caring for her, so you take pride in your movements, your ability to calm her when she most needs it.

As she settles in front of you, you feel the last of her energy leave her. The hot water around you soothing sore muscles, easing her overworked nervous system. Her heart rate starts to slow, her breaths becoming deeper, slower, longer.

While you know that her body is physically relaxing, you know that her mind is not.

You never get the details of the case. She never wants to burden you with the gruesomeness of her job, doesn’t want you to worry more than you already do. Emily’s a profiler, can read anyone in the room and pinpoint their motives. But you’ve become an expert in Emily.

You help her through the aftermath as best as you can, providing her with the space to unwind in whatever what she deems necessary - or whatever way her body deems necessary. Sometimes it’s a hot bath and a good meal, sometimes it’s body-wracking sobs on the couch, and sometimes it’s taking her to the local gym to spar with someone and let her anger out.

You see sides of your girlfriend that you know no one else has or ever will. She’s a strong, independent person with walls taller than Everest. Somehow, you’ve managed to climb them, repel down them, and settle in. Emily let you settle in, let you unwind the barb wire around her heart. You’d protect it with your life.

You start rubbing a soft cloth with your body wash across Emily’s body; she’s always taken comfort in your smell after a bad case. You make sure to go slow, not knowing what happened to her, not wanting to trigger anything unknowingly.

As you reach her bent knees, you feel her flinch a little. You stop immediately, trying to check in with her again. She’s mouthing the same mantra: Wheels up, I’m home, wheels up…

“Em? Do your legs hurt?”

A slight shake of her head. No pain, which likely means it’s something mentally.

You continue slowly, letting her feel the cloth on her legs. “Open your eyes, Em. Your legs are okay.”

You watch the side of her face, watch as her eyes blink open, watch as her eyes track your hands up and down her leg.

Another deep, shuddering breath as you feel her relax back into you. She continues to watch your movements, her eyes growing more focused as they move back up her torso.

“I need,” a whisper, caught in the dryness of her throat; she clears it before trying again. “I need you to touch me.”

You release the cloth, notice it float away to the end of the tub. Your hands wrap around her, settling lower on her belly, resting there. You watch the side of her face again. “You sure?”

You would never take advantage of her, not while she’s vulnerable. You’ve had this conversation before, about how sometimes after certain cases she just needs to feel connected to you, feel intertwined with something that is real.

She turns to look at you, her nose brushing against yours as she whispers a strong, steady, “love me,” against your lips.

She trails her hand to yours, interlocks your fingers, before bringing both of them down to her core. Interconnected, simultaneously, you start rubbing slow, steady circles on her clit, working her up easily, lovingly.

Each brush of your fingers against her has her twitching, rolling her hips into your hands. Her head thrown back against your shoulder, you can see her feeling you, feeling your love for her. The only thing on her mind now is her, you, and the way that you make her feel. Each stroke of your fingers is a promise, a vow to protect her, keep her safe, love her. It’s a love letter of all of the things you wish you could voice, of all of the ways you care for her.

As she nears her peak, your lips find her ear as you whisper over and over I love you, you’re home, I love you…

Her back arches against you, her hips pressing more fully into your hand. You help her ride through the waves, gathering her in your arms as she settles back down. Your lips brush light kisses around her temple and cheek as she catches her breath.

“I love you,” she says. “I’m home.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #virescent v fanfic #ask v!#emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfiction #i somehow wrote and published three fics in one day???#who am i????#god i love emily so much #thanks for the prompt bestie!!#if theres mistakes in this do not let me know #i read through it once before posting ahhaha

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girlfriendpato · 4 months

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It Was Like This: You Were Happy by Jane Hirshfield

Merry Christmas clara @frickinsweet from your secret santa <333 I hope you have a wonderful 2024

ps I've absolutely butchered this gorgeous poem (cutting out an entire stanza and a half) so obligatory link to the poem!

#f1 #f1edit #kirian.edit #i wrote a really long note and analysis on media in f1 + the narratives in sports but then decided that will be for another day #i really hope you like this bestie know you only stated 3 drivers as your favs but this poem just did not work with them so vouwbrvu #once again merry christmas and hope you have a great day ahead of you <33

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cassandrattpd · 4 months

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just watch as i crucify myself 💘

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heyitsrink · 2 months

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a quiet afternoon

I've been wanting to draw the Fool and Jofron being the best of friends for ages and here they are!! Carving and drinking tea (maybe spiked with a bit of brandy) and gossiping about all the Jhaampe drama.

#realm of the elderlings #rote #rote fanart #the fool #rote jofron #assassin's quest #the farseer trilogy #the fool and jofron: certified besties #YOU WROTE TO JOFRON AND NOT ME?!?!?!

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bruciemilf · 2 years

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Hi, Lee! Your AUs have given me many brainworms so I thought I'll share my brainworms in retaliation XD

No capes actor AU

Bruce inherited his love for theater and acting from Alfred. He's usually shy, awkward and a nervous wreck (think Battinson) but once he's behind a camera, he plays his role flawlessly. He can be the confident and gentle prince charming, the suave and flirtatious rogue or the cruel and sadistic monster. It doesn't matter, as long as the camera is rolling, Bruce Wayne is in character.

An important thing to note is that Bruce Wayne is unbelievably attractive. So, you have an attractive actor playing all these hot characters, what do you do? Create thirst traps obviously!

The kids suffer for it. Bruce keeps winning 'The Hottest Man Alive' and they can't even read reviews of movies their dad is acting in because all the comments are about how sexy he is. They're scrolling through twitter and suddenly someone tweets about the veins on Bruce Wayne's arms.

STOP! Their dad is lovable, innocent and sweet. Stop corrupting him with your lust!

Bruce stopped accepting romance roles because his kids begged him to (in an attempt to stop the thirst) but it got worst! They tell him to mention them in every one of his rare interviews (he's very shy so he doesn't do much interviews) to signal that he's a dad and very unavailable and the internet loves a DILF so you can guess what happened. They can't win. No matter what they do, people keep thirsting over their dad.

The kids are suffering and Bruce? Mr 'please don't perceive me' Wayne? He straight up blocked every mention of himself on the internet so he sees none of it. He told the kids to do the same but they wanted to read about how much people love their dad (they're very proud of him) so they endure the daily psychic damage and simply suffer.

I???? THIS IS A MASTERPIECE NEVER A MISTAKE. PERIOD EXCLAMATION MARK YAS MAMA SLAY THE WHITE HOUSE DOWN

If I may add

BECAUSE he's a highly requested actor who's almost always in the headlines, Bruce can't see his babies as much as he wants to, so all those mother henning instincts can't be bottled up.

Bruce earns himself the reputation of being the Mom Friend to his co-stars.

There's a viral video somewhere of him doing Harley's make up for her because she claims only he can do it right, and a video of him feeding Selina yoghurt, and tying Harvey's shoelaces between takes if they film a project together

Personally, a huge fan of the " actors who play assholes but are in fact the biggest sweethearts " breed, so I'm gonna need the villains being cute as fuck behind the scenes.

If they're doing an intense fight scene, Bane apologizes to Bruce continuesly because the guy insists on doing his own stunts. Bruce always giggles between being patched up and pats his arm

Damian refuses to be left at home, and there's absolutely a viral video of tiny damian wayne jumping to kick and punch at Clark's leg (who plays Gray Ghost's rival in the movie) when he " attacks" Bruce and it made everyone's day

Selina accidentally injures Bruce the MOST and there's compilations of her accidentally kicking him straight in the jaw, or punching him, or dropping stuff on him, and looking impossibly guilty about it. " I'm sorry - I'm so sorry baby" and Bruce of course always is like " It's okay :D"

Bruce's trailer is everyone's hang out spot. He does instagram lives where he talks about theory and lore and technicalities, and there's just someone or someones always there!!

Diana practising sword fighting, Harley doing tik tok dances, Pam watering the flowers he gets everywhere they go in full Mother Nightmare get up, and they're just there to see him blush and mumble at the thirsty comments

Also the batkids are jealous of every single on screen child Bruce films with, because he's so affectionate and loving with them. Jason's twitter is just him dunking on every single child co-star and he's not at all sorry about it

#bruce wayne #actor au #dc #dc comics #btw i have not forgotten abt the little one shot you wrote me for the league finding out bruce's true identity and bestie lets talk #i love love love your bruce so so much i will actually die if i dont get more content of him #batfam

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stupidlovergirl · 8 months

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Thinking of...

Working out with Beel!

Beel, who is a gym bro, will give tips to anyone if they ask for it

So of course, you got curious!

Beel, who takes you to workout with him one day, and gives you a basic run down of do's and don't's.

Beel, who helps you stretch! He makes sure your not hurting yourself! He's right in front of you showing you what to do, a big smile on his face

Beel, who teaches you how to lift! He's so in his element telling you why you don't lift you max every time

Beel, who runs on the treadmill next to you if you suggest cardio! He says not to try and match him and you understand why when he easily reaches speeds past even Olympic runners can't reach

Beel, who leaves you to do a little more intensive training for himself after you say it's alright! But he always trying to keep an eye on you!

Beel, who does a cool down with you, and launches into another explanation on why it's important, and your realizing that he is so smart about all of this?? You knew he knew his stuff, but man's listing scientific data dawg

Beel, who gives you a protein shake! He smiles real big as he drinks his, saying how this was one his favorite things after a workout (you agree)

Beel, who takes you to eat after if you suggest it, and after asks if you want to do it again next week, with the biggest puppy dog eyes, and even though you feel exhausted and feeling pain in muscles you didn't know existed, you agree

Beel, who smiles a 100 kilowatt smile when you agree, and you sign your fate if working out probably every week

#i wrote this. because i wish i had a gym bro bestie. to encourage me.#Everyone needs a Beel in their life #obey me x reader #obswd x reader #beelzebub x reader #obey me x you #obswd x you #beelzebub x you #bunny's.game.collection

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dontcallmeeds · 1 year

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Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

Eddie takes the piece of metal for the new piece and runs his torch along it. The flame flickers against the silver as he does, white hot.

But instead of bending it quite yet, he hammers down on it roughly before flicking the flame over it again. He bends it around the sizing device, still estimating Steve’s ring size to be just under his.

Once it’s shaped and melded together, he hammers it more, giving some of it a rougher edge.

The next part is tricker, the oxidation process.

Eddie is grateful his uncle stays out of his room and his business, he’s sure by now that the noises that aren’t just Iron Maiden or his own musical talents have caused confusion and intrigue.

He meant to tell his uncle about his jewelry, but honestly it made him nervous for people to see his work and know it was his. Like suddenly they’d change their minds and decide it was actually quite shit.

Especially the person he was giving most of his projects to.

Eddie takes out the clean plastic box from under his work station and puts a paper towel on the bottom, soaking in ammonia. He covers it with a plastic lid after the smell hits him and opens his tiny trailer bedroom window.

Realistically, he shouldn’t do this in the confined space, but he figures he’s inhaled enough bad shit; he’ll survive.

Eddie opens the box again to take a piece of tinfoil next and puts it in the middle of the box for the ring to sit on, then rolls the ring in the ammonia. He pours salt onto the ring, focusing on the spots he hammered more.

Placing it on the tinfoil, Eddie smiles to himself. This piece is going to be beautiful, but it’s also rougher than the last few pieces.

Steve would probably think his secret admirer, a woman no doubt, bought it from somewhere a little edgier. Eddie sighs at that thought, wishing he wasn’t such a coward. Wishing he could just tell him outright.

But it really wasn’t that simple.

As Eddie sketches out the final details of the ring, he hears the front door open, figuring Wayne might’ve come home on lunch. He had been doing that a lot lately, coming home from work to eat, to check up on Eddie.

But Eddie startles when he turns around to his own door swinging open, something his uncle would never do without knocking and waiting on an answer.

Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair stand in his doorway, arguing something about their character sheets for the next campaign and apparently needing Eddie to be the tiebreaker.

Before he can hide the sketch or the box with the ring—

“What’s that?”

They ask it in unison with wide eyes and pinched noses, staring at the box containing his next secret gift to Steve.

“Nothing,�� Eddie moves it aside with the sketchbook on top, trying to walk forward until they all go into the living room. He isn’t that lucky.

“It looks important,” Mike tries to look over his shoulder at the work station.

“Yeah, looks like a secret,” Lucas so helpfully chimes in, little shit.

“Can you guys drop it? What’s this about your—“

“We can stand here all day,” Lucas folds his arms with a smirk, nudging Mike’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m what Nancy likes to call ‘insufferable’,” Mike follows up, and Eddie has to stop himself from snorting at that.

“Fine! God, you guys are the worst and I’m starting to regret bringing you under my wing,” Eddie doesn’t, not once, but who is he if not dramatic, “you have to swear to secrecy of the highest level. It’s quite literally life or death.”

They exchange looks and then smile wide at Eddie, nodding in agreement with the terms. He takes a deep breath and starts.

“Eww, seriously? Steve? Like my sister’s ex, that Steve?!”

“For the millionth time, baby Wheeler, yes. Like your sister’s ex,” Eddie rubs his temples, having to literally repeat himself for the last twenty minutes.

The boys finally stop asking questions shortly after, at least about Steve.

“So how long does it sit like,” Lucas gestures vaguely to the now fully covered box, “that for?”

“About twenty four hours,” Eddie answers.

“So you make your own? All your rings and chains?” Mike asks, seemingly dropping his whole Steve grudge. For now.

“Yeah, have been since I was sixteen probably,” Eddie outstretches his hands and stares down at them himself.

“Cool,” is the last thing Mike adds before they seem to move on from the subject all together and ask about their character sheets once again finally.

The night becomes an ongoing argument, Eddie having to break them up multiple times. But he can’t help but feel a little relieved from being able to have people who know about his secret.

The teens leave late with promises to keep everything under wraps, they of course both want updates, even begging to come with to drop the next ring off. Eddie says he’ll think about it, but they’ll be louder than his clunky van so he’ll just tell him later he forgot.

The next afternoon, the ring is ready to pull out and he looks it over with pride. Taking fine grit sandpaper, he rubs over the piece and inspects it thoroughly to make sure it’s ready for final touches.

Taking a silver wire that he already prepped, Eddie takes jewelry pliers and wraps it around the thinnest piece of the ring. He fires over it and looks it over one last time.

It’s everything he wanted it to be, nothing else he’s given Steve has looked like this.

Smiling to himself, Eddie puts it in it’s box and writes the note to accompany it.

‘Stevie, something different.’

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whorekneecentral · 1 year

Note

hmmm okay would you feel some toto after today? the launch had me 👀 i’m ngl

maybe something casual like hes still working so hard to get everything perfect for testing? and then you try to get him to take a break, maybe with prompt 6 and 67?

-🐣

this is from the merc launch 😭 this has been in my inbox for way too long lmao // prompt: “I didn’t realize I needed your permission” + “you cocky bastard.” “what’s that ? you want my cock?”

"Mr. Wolff?" You knocked on his door, peeking into the dressing room. "20 minutes to launch." You tell him, giving him the time warning.

"Come in for a minute, would you?" He calls, back turned to you. You step into the room, letting the door shut behind you. "Tie or no tie?" He turns to face you, holding up the black tie.

"I rather no tie but up to you."

"I didn't realize I needed your permission," he starts, causing your brows to furrow, "you asked my opinion." You rolled your eyes, earning yourself a smile from him.

"I'm just teasing, y/n."

He tosses the tie onto the chair, moving closer to you. His arm out in front of you and instinctively, you reach out to fix the cuff of his sleeve.

"Aren't you always?" You glance up at him, moving onto his other sleeve. "You cocky bastard," you mumble. Toto grabs your chin, pulling you to look at him.

"What's that? You want my cock?" He asks, feigning a look of confusion. Your cheeks are bright red, you can feel the heat and his gaze is not helping.

"Stop that." You tell him, pulling away.

"Stop what, sweetheart?"

"They need you outside in 15," you remind him, letting out a breath. Toto's hand rests on your hip, looking down at you. "Then you better behave so we're back in time, hm?"

#bestie im so sorry I didn't realize you gave context until after I wrote this lmao #hopefully this is okay #🐣 anon #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff smut

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stevebabey · 1 year

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ahh congratulations on your milestone!!! thank you for all of your works!!! (also this concept is so cool and fun for a follower celebration!!!)❣️❣️

now, i just have to see what all the hype is about over at Lovers’ Lake ❤️‍🔥 88 from prompt 5 “kisses in which ‘i’ll kiss you right now to prove i don’t feel anything for you’‘ but the kiss proves the opposite” with best friend stevie??

thank u honey!!! i sincerely hope you think lover's lake is worth the hype <3 and this concept bro... ur brain is so delicious i literally sent this 2 like 4 ppl when i got it being like BRO so i hope i do it some justice <3 i manipulated the prompt a bit & it got a bit long but bleh <3 enjoy! (2k & fem!reader)

“I’m telling you Steve, there’s something seriously wrong with me!”

The words carry across the flat expanse of Lover’s Lake, your voice echoing over the ebb of the lapping water. Your resounding groan is much less loud, muffled as you bury your face in your hands. You’re curled up, knees drawn to your chest. The wooden slats of the dock dig into the bottom of your thighs.

Beside you, Steve chuckles just a bit at the drama of it all. So you had one bad kiss? It wasn’t the end of the world. Though from your reaction, you certainly seem to think so.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” He assures you, because he means it. He’s sat on your left, both arms resting atop his propped up knees, and he leans over to nudge your shoulder with his.

“So what if it was a bad kiss? I’ve hardly heard great reviews about Jeremy Parton. It doesn’t matter—“

“Ugh, it does matter, Steve.” You interrupt, pulling your face out from hiding.

Steve’s thankful that you don’t look teary-eyed, because he hates seeing you upset, instead only just a bit embarrassed. You’d called him not 20 minutes ago during what was supposed to be a date with Jeremy Parton, a plea for him to come pick you up.

Steve hadn’t been able to discern over the phone why you suddenly needed rescuing, yet came to get you all the same. You hadn’t offered up the details when he showed either, just tried to melt into the leather of his passenger seat, arms crossed.

It went without discussion that you two would wind up down at Lover’s Lake. Together, you and Steve have wracked up hours on hours here, spilling secrets and laughter beneath the moonlight. It looks the same as ever tonight, pale illumination casting delicate shadows across your face.

Steve can see the effort you’ve put in for the date; your lips a little glossy, your eyes somehow wider and sweeter. You’re enchanting beneath the moonlight, Steve thinks fondly. Then desperately tries to rein the thought back in, tries to stuff it back away because he’s here as your best friend — who you called after your date with someone else.

“Why?” Steve brings his focus back to your current predicament. “Why does it matter so much that you had a bad kiss? I’ve had plenty!”

You groan again, slumping over and hooking your chin over your knees. Steve thinks it makes you look adorable.

“It’s different with you, Steve!” You protest. “It’s like, of course, all the girls you go out with are into you but with me the date is— ugh, it’s like who knows if they actually like me?”

“Woah, woah,“ Steve interrupts with a wave of his hands. “You think the kiss was bad because he wasn’t into you?”

Your embarrassment creeps back up, crawling across your features apprehensively. You smile weakly at Steve, knowing he’ll disagree with what you’re about to say.

“Summer O’Brien said that,” You pause and swallow, feeling more foolish by the second for taking her words so seriously now that you have to explain them to Steve. “Some guys go on dates even when they don’t like the girl. And if the kiss is bad...”

You trail off, voice meek as you take in Steve’s furrowed brow. He looks serious, frowning at the planks of the dock as he mulls your words.

“That it means that he doesn’t like you?” He asks sincerely. He is trying hard to understand why one butchered kiss had warranted such a reaction. You nod, pulling your knees in tighter to your chest.

Steve can’t help it, he snorts in disbelief. “That’s complete horseshit. That— that makes no sense! With that logic, if I kissed you it would be a terrible kiss because- because I don’t like you like that!”

Oh, fuck. Steve regrets saying it the moment it’s out of his mouth.

Because it’s not the truth. Even if he hasn’t fully admitted it to himself, deep down, Steve knows there’s a part that’s always considered it. A small piece of his heart that had been cordoned off in case you ever wanted it.

In that moment, Steve is taken aback by how quickly the desire flares up in his chest, warm and longing. He wants you to want it.

Thankfully, you don’t scrutinize his words too hard. Instead, you laugh a bit too bitterly, gaze returning to the mirror surface of the lake ahead. “That’s... not the same thing, Steve.”

You sound dejected, like Steve had missed the point, slumping down a bit further.

“Y’don’t believe me?” He finds himself asking, leaning closer. He plants a hand on the ground beside him, shifts so you’re even closer.

You perk up at his question and swivel your head in his direction. He doesn’t miss how your eyes steal a glance at his lips, how your grip on your arm tightens just a tad.

“If I kiss you — a proper good kiss,” Steve wills his voice not to waver over the coming lie. “Even though I don’t like you in that way, will you accept that Summer O’Brien talks nonsense?”

You’ve gone wide-eyed, silent at the close proximity between you and Steve now. But still he catches the small, nearly imperceptible, nod you give. You clear your throat, straightening up just a bit and accidentally bring you two nearer as you do. You can feel Steve’s breath fan over you face, can count the freckles on his nose when you’re this close.

His hair ruffles under a soft wind and his hazel eyes watch you intently, waiting for a clearer sign that he’s allowed to kiss you. Your heart softens, even more so than when he’d first brought up a kiss between you two.

You nod again, “Yeah. Alright.”

Steve nods as well, as though steeling himself and you find him searching your face — hunting, scouring for something in it. You’re not sure if he finds it.

You’re not sure what can be read on your face; if he can see the nervousness that’s got nothing to do with being kissed and all to do with being kissed by him.

It’s almost comical that your miserable kiss with Jeremy has somehow led you here. About to kiss the man who had consumed your thoughts and ruined the last kiss you’d received.

It’s bittersweet that it’s to prove a point — to prove his feelings are not at all the same as yours. There is no desperately pressed down pining from him that you’ve become so accustomed to yourself. You’re foolish to hope for more, you think. Maybe worse is that you’ll take what you can get.

A kiss from your best friend, as a consolation to soothe your heart over the fact that he doesn’t feel the same. Won’t ever feel the same.

Steve moves first.

Where Jeremy’s lips had been rough and dry, Steve’s are soft and sweet. Softer than you’re expecting. Your eyes slide shut instinctively as the plush feel of his bottom lip meets your own, gentle in the way it scrapes across yours.

You can’t help the quiet gasp that catches in your throat but Steve doesn’t kiss you. He hovers, lips catching softly against your own, not quite moving forward. He’s still asking permission. Still giving you time to pull out if you change your mind.

Something thrums in your chest at his care, spreading warm and nervous in all the right ways. In all the ways that had been wrong earlier in the evening. It whips up inside you, some tornado of affection and this time, you’re the one who moves forward.

You capture Steve’s mouth with yours, leaning into him, and Steve’s responding hum may as well be your favourite song the way it echoes in your head.

His hand moves, hesitating for only a moment before he cups your jaw and pulls you in even more. The kiss is breathtaking — the sweet press of his mouth against your own that inspires pure elation between your ribs, warmth that urges you forward until your hand twists into his shirt without thinking.

The kiss breaks. Suddenly, one kiss becomes two, becomes three, because Steve has to drink his fill while he’s allowed. You respond in earnest, stealing kisses just as fervently.

He knows now this is a mistake. Steve isn’t sure how he’s ever supposed to go back to being just your friend now that he’s had a taste of your lips, now that he knows what it’s like to kiss you and hold you and— shit, Steve’s pretty sure he’s red in the face, heart racing so loud you must hear it. He’s given himself away.

“That...” Steve croaks, unsure where he’s going with this. He’s still trying to save his heart after being burnt so many times. He realises his hand is still cupping your face and releases you.

Your face crumples a bit at the motion, pulling back, and Steve can see how you suck in a breath. “So,” You begin, voice quiet. “That was proof of a good kiss even though you don’t like me?”

You’re repeating his own words and yet Steve’s lie sounds so much worse on your lips. He shakes his head, dips in closer, trying to regain that closeness you’d given up.

“Yes. No! I mean,” Steve fumbles for a bit, trying to read your shielded expression desperately.

He can’t tell if the thread of hope, the part of him that sings she likes you too is some false voice leading him to treachery. Steve decides it doesn’t matter; not when you’re looking at him like he’s just hurt you instead of kissed you.

“I lied.” He breathes, a tiny shake of his head. Your head tilts up in an instant, some mixture of expressions crossing your face. Steve continues, the truth rolling off his tongue easy now that he’s broken the floodgate. “I lied. I said I don’t like you like that and that was a lie. I’m sorry if that— shit, I didn’t think the kiss would...”

He trails off, apology and explanation all bundled up and forgotten as Steve tries to comprehend everything that kiss had forced to the surface. Had you felt it too?

“Would what?” You ask timidly. Something splashes quietly in the lake behind you. Steve can see the twilight moon reflected in your eyes. He thinks it might be his new favourite colour.

“Would feel like that.” He whispers, eyes locked on yours. “I didn’t know it could feel like that. I don’t think a kiss has ever—” He breaks off, some disbelieving laugh punching out of him, a gentle smile curling on his mouth. “—Ever made me feel that way.”

Steve’s lost control of the situation entirely. What had started as him comforting his best friend had spiraled to suggesting a kiss to convince you of a lie to this.

The question, the want, comes from deep in his chest, pulled from his very bloodstream.

“Can I do it again?” He asks.

His hand moves to cradle your jaw, just as he had been not a minute ago, and his heart flip-flops at the way you lean into him. It could be on purpose — or by pure instinct. Steve isn’t sure which one he prefers, just that he could get used to the weight, to holding you this way.

He barely manages to murmur out his please? before your lips are upon his again. The force of it pushes him back, surprised for a moment before he catches himself. His other hand sweeps around your middle and he pulls you in tighter.

“Yes,” you murmur, the words scratching against his lips between the kisses. Your chest heaves, your heart soars, some happy ache in your chest. It’s a wonder you both manage to stop smiling enough to kiss.

“Yes, anytime.” You promise, a little breathless. You mean it. You want him to kiss you now, tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, for as many days as he’ll allow.

Anytime. Steve likes the sound of that. He thinks he’ll start with right now.

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whomstdvelynt · 1 year

Text

#teehee.txt #polls #based on a poem i wrote el oh el #also. LET THE BESTIES SAY I LOVE YOU TO EACH OTHER.#also also. i am fully expecting this to be bad lol. I'm not that good at writing anything that isn't an unfinished fic

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catofthecanals289 · 11 months

Text

all the lights

a maxiel drabble for my beloved @lilyrizzy Happy Birthday, the world is suhc a wonderful place simply for having you in it. I love you so much. (contains medical stuff and mpreg [sort of, it’s complicated])

The answer is no. It was ’no’ twenty minutes ago and it’s still a no now.

Daniel doesn’t want to leave. He is not going to leave, that’s what he told them when they asked for the first time, the second time, but the third –

“Sir,” the nurse or midwife or doctor, Daniel doesn’t know, doesn’t care says, having sat down on the chair next to him. “Surgery will take a bit longer still, you are not missing anything by going up to the unit. But you are missing something by stay here. Please, consider.”

What’s there to consider? Daniel doesn’t ask.

He presses his lips together, tilts his face away, fixing his eyes on a spot on the floor. His leg keeps bouncing, his hands clam and sweaty, grasping each other. His heart hasn’t stopped hammering against his ribs for hours. Not since he woke up to Max’s panicked voice, finding blood between his legs.

Days have passed since that moment, but according to the clock, it’s not even been two hours.

“Sir,” the woman says again, brows drawn together when Daniel glances at her.

“Max’s here. So I’m here,” he says tightly, voice feeling rough, unused.

Has he spoken since they took Max from him? Since they wheeled him into the operating room? Since he called Max’s name, desperate, and Max turned his head, skin pale, eyes wide. He’d opened his mouth but the door had shut before he could.

“And your daughters are upstairs,” the woman pushes.

Daniel –grimacing, eyes squeezed shut- nods. “Yeah, well.”

“They need you.”

“Right.”

He shakes his head, lips pinched together.

“They do.”

“For what?” he looks at her again and he can tell she’s taken aback by his cutting tone, but-

She puts her hand on his shoulder, a small, cautious smile on her lips, eyes almost pleading. “You’re their dad. They need you.”

“I’m- Right, yeah. No. I-” He shakes his head again, leg bouncing, heart racing. He can’t fucking look at her. She must think he’s a terrible person and maybe he is. Maybe he’s been a terrible person throughout this entire pregnancy but- “I need to be here. I need – Max.”

He gestures in the direction of the operating room.

They weren’t ready. This wasn’t supposed to happen. So soon. And not like this.

32 weeks, that was the goal. 32 weeks so the babies would be big enough to not- So they’d be stronger. Their lungs, and- And so much. Daniel listened to the doctors, he swears he’d listened, but- They have a calendar at home at the fridge and just the day before yesterday Daniel crossed off the 28 week mark. They only just-

Max had watched from the bed, directing Daniel, handing him the marker, hand on his bump and he’d told Daniel, when Daniel had counted the weeks that were left and only gotten paler, that everything would be okay. That he was excited to meet them. Their girls. And wasn’t Daniel?

But Daniel is a terrible fucking person and all he wanted, all he wants now, is for Max to be okay.

“We can make a new one,” he’d told Max when they first found out, terrified and confused beyond anything. “We just- Max. Max, c’mon. Please.”

He’d wanted an abortion. They’d told them it was safest. That Max- Max’s body wasn’t made for this. He had the parts, yes and none of them fucking knew until- But his body wasn’t fucking meant to do this. It was dangerous. He could die. None of the do doctors, none, none of the experts and specialist-

But Max had wanted to try, hadn’t wanted to make a new baby through surrogacy, or have one by adoption. He’d wanted this. Their miracle baby, growing inside his body against all odds and logic. And Daniel had nodded and said “okay,” and there were moments where he’d thought he could do this, could be a dad. But he was wrong. He was so fucking wrong. He can’t do any of this. There is still blood on his hands and if Max dies-

“Wouldn’t Max want you to at least go see them?” the woman asks voice even gentler now, and fuck, Daniel has to wipe at his eyes again. “When he gets out of surgery, he’ll want to hear how they are doing.”

“You can tell him,” Daniel croaks, tasting salt on his lips.

He doesn’t know shit anyway. Even if he went to see the girls, he- What does he know? Jack shit. He doesn’t- They don’t even have names yet. They couldn’t decide and now-

“He’ll want to hear it from you,” she insists, and she’s right, but-

“He might fucking die,” he says, trying and failing to smile. “He might not ever hear anything I tell him ever fucking again, so-”

“So all the more reason to,” she cuts him off. “Sir, there really is nothing you can do here right now. But you can do this.”

He can’t. He really, really can’t. Every step he takes makes him feel more sick. He’s lead through a corridor. A door, another door, another corridor. There are signs and numbers and he can’t read any of them, can’t look at the pictures on the walls a t the people they pass, not that there are many. It’s still- The sun hasn’t even risen yet, it’s not-

“Congratulations, c’mon in,” a woman, smaller than the one before says, kind smile on her lips, paired with her words it feels almost mocking though.

He stares at her and right, they are in front of a door, two names written on colorful cards.

Verstappen 1, Verstappen 2.

“What-” he says, gesturing to the cards.

“Oh, because there weren’t names yet. Or have you picked?” the woman says.

Her name tag ready Hailey, Daniel can’t remember if she told him or when he’s been handed over to her, his head is still spinning and he’s pretty sure he might throw up.

“We- No. We hadn’t- We thought we still had time, I-“

“That’s okay, don’t worry,” she says, offering another smile. “Lots of parents haven’t decided on names yet when it’s baby time. Even if it’s full term pregnancies. Just tell us when you know, yes? Now.” Her smile widens a little. “Would you like to meet your daughters?”

“Just- I need to go back downstairs?” he says, turning to look where- but he doesn’t know. Which direction was he- How is he going to get back? He doesn’t-

There’s the nurses’ station right there, eyes on him, whispers.

“Well, how about we just go in and I introduce you, yeah?” Hailey says, unperturbed. “Now, I need you to take off all jewellery on your arms and hands. Watches, bracelets, rings – that includes wedding rings. Then please wash your hands very thoroughly at the sink and then when your hands are dry disinfect them. This is very important you need to do that every time you come here. No exceptions. We also need to talk quietly. No loud noises in this room please.”

He nods.

She opens the door.

“So, the girls are doing well,” Hailey says, as they walk up to the first of the – the incubators. The lights are dim in the room, but there’s still some sort of blanket over it, but she removes it and then- “This is number 1. She and her sister both need some help breathing still, which is to be expected at 28 weeks. They are also very small for their gestational age, which we assume is due to the conditions, which- Well.”

She smiles, a little awkward now.

The conditions. She means Max’s womb. Max’s hormonal situation. The way the placenta attached, how it couldn’t- Max wasn’t made for this. Or not- Only sort of. Just- It wasn’t ideal. Not for Max or the babies. Just a fucking fuck up from nature and now Daniel is a father and so is Max but Max might die and there is a tiny little creature lying in a plastic box in front of him, stuff strapped to its little face, frail, twig like limbs tucked in close to its body, chest rising and falling so quickly, wires everywhere and-

“So she’s got 725 grams, and her sister is at 680 grams, which-”

“I don’t know what that means, I don’t-” He shakes his head, throat tight, stomach twisting.

She’s- His- Their girl. She’s- She’s so fucking small, he doesn’t-

“Oh, 25.57 ounces,” Hailey explains. “That’s her. And our little lady over there, she’s got 23.98.”

“That’s-”Again he shakes his head, having to turn around. “That’s too small. That’s not- No. That’s-”

“That is very small, yes,” Hailey allows. “But, sir. Right now they are doing well and we are monitoring them. “They get some help breathing, but thanks to the RDS prophylaxis your- The mo- Your partner received their lungs are doing pretty well. The girls are both breathing on their own. They received surfactant already. No brain bleeds so far, and-”

“Okay, yeah, I- I gotta go back downstairs,” Daniel cuts in. “I’ve got to- Max- My partner, he is still in surgery, so.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “Oh, sure, yes, but, if you- Well, it would be so incredibly beneficial for your babies to get skin to skin contact? It’s- We call it kangaroo care and-”

Daniel laughs, he can’t help it. It’s a shrill, crazy little sound and before Hailey can say anything there’s a cry.

A tiny, barely there, barely audible cry, coming from behind Daniel. Coming from - her.

She-

Daniel turns around and there she is, her little miniature face twisted into a grimace, little mouth quivering and the sound she makes- IT shatters his heart-

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, love,” he whispers quickly, desperately, hands flying, helpless in front of the plastic wall. “I’m- Shit. What- Just- Because I’m Australian, I was-”

He looks at Hailey, terrified. She needs to do something, she needs- His little girl is crying. She’s crying and she’s just so small.

“It’s okay, you just startled her,” Hailey says softly. “The loud noise. It’s okay. We’ll just- You know she is still adapting. She’s not- We always say they need a little bit, to truly arrive, you know? To the world? Everything is so much for them. The noise, the light, everything. So we try our best to shield them, but positive stimulation is just as important as shielding them from negative one. And part of that is skin to skin. It’s- She needs you, sir. They both do.”

She’s still crying. It’s a pitiful little sound, not like the baby cries Daniel remembers form Isaac or Izzy or Leo.

“But Max-”

“Labor and delivery will call us,” Hailey says. “They’ll inform us and we’ll inform you. I promise. Now, please. It’s really, really so important for your babies. ”

She tells him to take off his shirt. She puts him in a chair that reminds Daniel of a sun lounger except he’s not getting a tan. His heart is beating out of his chest. He’s lying there shirtless and terrified and Hailey and another nurse who introduced herself as Abby hand him tubes and wires and then- then There’s first one baby on his chest and then another. Two tiny little creatures. They tell him to hold him. Put his hands on their backs as they sort out the wires and tubes and everything and his fucking- One of his finger is bigger and longer than each of their legs and their hands-

“Are they- Is this-” This can’t be right. This can’t be- They are too small for him to hold, to lie on his chest and be covered by towels. They fucking- There’s a heating lamp, they need- “Shouldn’t they go back in the boxes?”

„The incubators?“ Abby asks, frowning. “Oh, no, not his is best for them. Skin to skin. With mom. Or dad. It’s the best for them really. Helps them stabilize their temperature and heartrate, breathing, everything.”

“Yeah, but-”

Daniel feels so helpless, useless. He’s just- He’s nothing, no one. He just- They don’t even know him. They grew inside Max, they know him, his heartbeat, his voice, Daniel just-

“They know your voice too,” Hailey says, almost like she’s read his mind. “So you can talk to them quietly. Sooth them if they need it.”

But they don’t. They are both quiet now. Both just there where the nurses put them on Daniel’s chest, bellies down, heads tilted towards each other, little hands on Daniel’s skin, it’s- It might be the most surreal thing Daniel has ever experienced. Three hours ago it was just him and Max in bed together and now he’s alone in a hospital room with their daughters and Max-

“Can you call?” he asks, keeping his voice low, despite its tremble. “Down to- Ask how he’s doing? Max? He-”

“Of course.”

Two hours pass before the door opens again and it’s not just Hailey or Abby, but both of them as well as two other people in scrubs and a bed. A bed with Max inside and a number of things attached. IV pumps and stuff, Daniel thinks, but he has no eyes for any of that. Just Max. Max who seems to barely be able to tilt his head, looking around, looking for-

“Max,” Daniel croaks and on his chest one of the babies splays her fingers, almost making him choke up again. “Maxy, hey. Hi. How-”

“I’m okay,” Max croaks, voice hoarse and barely there, probably because of the tube they had shoved down his throat for surgery.

“He lost a lot of blood,” someone Daniel doesn’t know says. “And we are admitting him to the ICU so this is just for ten minutes tops, I’m sorry, but-”

“Let’s just sort this,” Hailey cuts in, smile on her face.

There’s a flurry of motion then, pushing around of equipment, adjusting tubes, wires, everything and it seems like a whole lot of work but Daniel doesn’t care because by the end of it they have somehow managed to fit Max’s bed next to the chair Daniel is in, the tubes of baby 2 sort of half under Max’s pillow who looks even paler than before, exhausted and only half awake.

“Hi,” he says, and his hand-

“I can’t,” Daniel whispers. It kills him not to reach out, not to take Max’s hand, but. “I got-”

“Oh,” May blinks and then Abby leans over pulling back the towels a bit so Max can see the girls. “They are so little.”

“Yeah.” Daniel nods, but he manages half a smile, tears gathering in his eyes again. “They are. and they’d really like names, I think. And meet their papa.”

“Oh,” Max says again. “Hi, babies. It is your papa.”

#maxiel fic #maxiel writing #i wrote this for my bestie #but yall can read it too if you want #some of you may know i have complicated thoughts on mpreg #this is how it works for me #and do not come for me becaus ehte nurse says upstairs and rules may dictate the NICU and labor and deliver yneed ot be on the same level #shhh #it sounded better in the dialogue

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