#sorry for emotional dump in the tags ! still touch and go ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scarlettriot · 3 years ago

Note

Okay. I've been sitting on this one for a couple days. Wanted to see more of the family dynamic before planting the idea in your head 😅 But I was initially inspired by the rivals to best friends to lovers fic with Shoto (thank you, again). Anyway...

Shoto and "spending time with each other's family, with the family constantly pointing out how good you would be together because you're just that compatible"

In my head it's a relatively complete Todoroki family, but just Fuyumi and Natsuo would also be good. Also in my head it's an extension/elaboration of that first fic, but you know I'm down for whatever lands in your head 😝

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x F!Reader

A/N: Since your ask was inspired by the rivals to besties to lovers... I present to you... this f*ckin' thing!

Seriously, I probably put too much thought into this but enjoy some background of these two goofballs.

I headcanon Shoto having a stutter that comes out when he's too emotional/nervous. IF YOU AREN'T CAUGHT UP ON THE ANIME OR MANGA SOMETHING MIGHT BE SPOILED. I also didn't really proof this so sorry...

Readers parents are reporters/journalists. Reader has a quirk that allows her to adapt her body to situational needs.

Warnings: SMUT (just some cute sexy times but still minors DNI), swearing, very slight temperature play, undertones of standard Todoroki family trauma.

Word Count: 3K

Six Years Old

Shoto and you walked side by side out of your classroom at the end of the day to wait for your parents and his dad to come to collect you both. But, the minutes ticked by, children ran along, until it was only you and Shoto left.

"My father probably had to deal with bad guy stuff and didn't tell my sister to get me today..." He sat with his chin resting on his knees.

"If it's bad enough, my parents are probably reporting on the bad guy stuff." You were right beside him, pushing pebbles together between your feet.

"Sho!" A spiky white-haired boy came rushing out from the school. He was dressed in a jersey, ready for practice, "Why are you still here?"

Shoto merely shrugged, "I don't know. No one came to get me."

His older brother shook his head. "Dad forgot to call Fuyumi's school again. Big surprise. Wait on the playground and if no one's come to get you, we'll walk home together after practice, okay?"

"What about Y/N?" He called back.

"We'll walk her home first!"

He nodded and let Natsuo run after the other boys.

You two dumped your bags beside the swing set, Shoto settling for taking a seat on one of them while you took off up one of the ramps. "Come play with me, Roki!"

"I'm not supposed to play, remember?"

You stopped giggling and hopping to give him a pointed glare. "Fine. We won't play, we'll train."

He looked up at you suspiciously, "Train how?"

This had to be worded carefully or you knew Shoto wouldn't go for it. "You're a hero and I'm a villain, heroes have to catch villains, so catch me!"

"That's easy, if you were a villain, I'd just freeze you in place and then you'd be caught."

Why did he have to bring logic into everything? There had to be a way to get him to just be a kid.

"You make it sound like I'd be easy to catch! But, if you need something harder, don't use your quirk. If you touch me, then I'm caught." It was tag, you were convincing him to play a game of tag with you cleverly disguised as training that his father could potentially approve of and Shoto took the bait.

"When do we start?"

"Right... NOW!"

Two-toned eyes went wide, watching you jump and squeeze your way through a gap to climb up on top of the slide. "You're so far away! Be careful!"

"I'm a villain, Roki! You'll never catch me!"

He raced up the slide, forgoing standard playground rules for tactics he'd been taught. Getting to someone quickly was more important, take the fastest route possible. Shoto hoisted himself up onto the roof of the playset just in time to watch you slip down over the other side, a fit of giggles in your wake.

But, you didn't drop into the playset, instead, you balanced along one side of the monkey bars, arms splayed wide while you hurried across and Shoto stopped dead in his tracks. "Y/N! That's n-not safe! You could fall!"

"No kindness for bad guys! You gotta catch me Sh-"

Just as he feared, your foot slipped and your hands flayed. He shot out a slide of ice, letting you ride it down to the mulch below. "Y-you're not a b-bad guy! You could have been real-ly hurt!"

It was the first time you'd seen Shoto so worked up. "Roki... my quirk-"

"Your adapt-ting isn't th-that fast!"

He was right, any situation you put yourself in, your body needed roughly a minute to respond and alter to your specific needs. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But, if we're gonna be heroes then we gotta be ready for tricky stuff."

That look in his eyes wasn't going away. You couldn't tell if it was anger... or fear, all you knew was how much you didn't like it. "Come on, let's keep playing. I'll catch you this time and I won't go climbing where I shouldn't."

It took him a minute before agreeing.

You'd been chasing Shoto for another twenty minutes when a familiar voice called your name. Your father, with his large grin, walked from the sidewalk, "Sorry, kid, you know the bad guys don't always care when we gotta snatch you from school." He spun you around in his arms when you jumped on him, "Grab your bag. Let's make sure dinner's on the table when mama gets home."

"Daddy, no! I can't leave Todoroki by himself."

Your dad looked over where Shoto stood alone, watching the two of you. "You're right, kiddo, we sure can't." He walked by your side over to him. "Shoto, right? My daughter has told me a lot about you."

Shoto just nodded, not knowing what to say, "We don't have to rush home, keep playing around."

"We weren't playing," Shoto corrected him before you could tug him away, "We're training!"

Your father just laughed, watching the two of you go around and around.

Another half-hour flew by, your father just sitting on a bench enjoying watching his daughter and the boy she'd been chattering endlessly about for weeks.

Being a reporter, he knew exactly who the young man was, who his father was and all he could do was hope the man's piss poor attitude didn't extend to his home life too.

He didn't have much hope though, not after learning about the accident that claimed the life of his eldest son, his wife being sent away, or the burn that suddenly appeared on little Shoto's face just last year.

If anyone was able to see past all that madness though he knew it was you. You'd been a ray of determined sunlight from the moment you came into his life, never giving up on anyone or anything.

"You've got some nerve," He turned to the deep voice and narrowed blue eyes, "Showing up at my son's school, watching him like some damn creep, what the fu-"

"You will watch your temper around these children, Todoroki, got it?"

"How dare you!"

"My daughter is playing with her friend."

"My son doesn't have time for friends."

You and Shoto came jogging over, "He's not my friend," All three sets of eyes were now on you. One thrilled, another stunned, and the final, oh, they looked broken, "Todoroki and I are not friends, we train together every day at school during breaks and in class when allowed. 'Cause, we're gonna be heroes one day, and that means all the training we gotta do it. Right, Todoroki?" You bumped his shoulder.

"R-right, yeah, w-we train."

Your father put a hand on your shoulder when Enji Todoroki set his sights on you. "You want to be a hero?"

"Yes, sir."

"It isn't easy, hard work, all the time. Shoto trains every single day."

"I know."

"So does my daughter." Your father added.

"Shoto, does she keep up with you?"

"Uh, yes, s-sir. She u-uses more hand-to-hand styles th-though."

"You need to work on that." His gaze rose, "Your daughter is welcome over on weekends only if she'd like to use our facility."

"We'll discuss it." He picked you up, setting you on his knee, "She's been doing just fine, but, who am I to keep her from her training partner?"

You wiggled before getting to the sidewalk, remembering you had a book Shoto had needed and running it over to him while he waited for his dad to get Natsuo. "Hey, did-did you really mean th-that w-we aren't friend-ds?"

You made sure his dad wasn't looking before giving Shoto a quick hug, "Silly, Roki, of course, we're friends. But, your dad doesn't like friends... so partners and rivals?"

There was the smallest smile on his face, "Partners and rivals."

Thirteen Years Old

The door to the Todoroki's training room slammed open. You and Shoto lay on the floor with heads side by side, chest heaving, sweat clinging to the both of you. "He's gone for the weekend!" Natsuo announced with a cheer, "Whoa, what have you two been doing in here?"

"Training," Shoto told his brother while he tried inclining on his elbows, "Like, we do multiple times a week."

"So that's what the kids are calling it now. Got it, cool, cool," Both you and Shoto shot him a look, "Anyways! I'm having some friends over but I just wanted to let you guys know you could like, relax for once if you wanted."

It was rare you got the chance to hang out with Shoto at his house and not need to be in constant fight/study mode. But, here was the perfect opportunity. Shoto glanced over at you. "Would you want to have dinner and maybe, um, I-I'm not sure."

Natsuo laughed from the doorway, "It's dinner and a movie, Sho. I know you don't really get to be a teenager but, you should at least know how to ask someone out!"

"Wait, b-but I'm not, I'm not asking you out. Just dinner and... movie, as partners."

Flustered Shoto Todoroki was one of the best things to witness. "I know, Sho. Dinner and movies sound good. Can I shower though?"

He nodded, letting you go off while he sought a shower of his own. His sister was in the kitchen when he walked out, a towel still drying his white hair. "I hear someone has a date," She beamed and kept babbling before he could get a word in, "I started making her favorite for dinner, I'll tell her it was your idea though. I've been waiting for this day!"

"Fuyumi! It's not a date! It's j-just Y/N and I eating dinner."

"And watching a movie."

"Y-yes, that too. But, it's just friends, don't make this into so-something weird."

She looked over the rim of her glasses with a sneaky grin. "You're stuttering, Shoto."

He sealed his lips tight and begged her to do the same when he heard the bathroom door open.

Fifteen Years Old

"Sho, there's no way. I barely took down like three of those robots. Other people were cutting them down left and right!"

Your head fell on the table, the envelope from UA still unopen between your fingers. He had nothing to worry about, accepted thanks to recommendations but you, you weren't so lucky.

You gave it your absolute best though, pushing yourself to what felt like your limits in hopes of being accepted but, hell, all you'd really managed to do was help some other examines that had fallen into a man-made river during the test. After they were safe, you only had time to take down a couple robots that were nearly dropped anyways.

The envelope was plucked from your fingers. "What are you doing?"

"Do you want to open it?" Shoto asked.

You shook your head, "But, I don't want you opening it either!"

"I can ask your mother to, she's just in the den, right?" He was already up from the table.

"That's not what I meant, Shoto and you know it!"

You stood behind the sofa and he was in front of it, mirroring your steps with a smirk. "Well, I want to know. Because said we're partners, rivals, I can't just go to a school where you're not."

"You can't just open my mail either! That's like illegal or something! Not very hero-like."

"I'm not a hero yet." He ripped the envelope open and you lunged over the sofa at him making him abandon the letter in order to catch you. "That was very dramatic-" Your attention was stolen by a hologram appearing sideways of a tiny bear? A mouse? Oh, he talked.

Shoto righted it and it wasn't long before your entire house was filled with cheers. Still on the floor, you hugged Shoto tight, his arms circling around you, "Told you, you'd get in."

Your mother had heard the bickering a few minutes ago but stayed in the hallway to let you work things out yourself. Ready to assist if only you asked but, Shoto was there for you, just as he always was. She watched you chase him around the living room like you'd done as little kids, saw you launch yourself at him like the kids you still were.

She hid a soft smile when you cheered and wrapped your arms around him, thanking him for all the support and help he'd given, listening to him return the sentiment.

Through the evening celebrations, she swore she could see the future unfolding before her eyes, faster than it ever had before.

How he held every door open for you, listened whenever you spoke, the way he looked at you when you were talking about everything you hoped to achieve.

And how you reached for his arm when crossing the street, scooted closer so he could put his arm around you when a brisk wind blew, how you watched him when he was busy doing something else, it filled your mother with so much warmth.

"So, are you going to ask him out or wait for him to do it?" She asked as you got ready for bed that night.

"MOTHER!"

She just laughed and walked down the hall to her own room and wondered if you'd have a fall or winter wedding.

Seventeen Years Old

The chatter faded into background noise once you were in the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and filling it to the brim with water and hoping it would loosen whatever this ache was in your chest.

It was supposed to be a fun holiday break. Endeavor was at some hero conference so most of your class planned for a sleepover at Shoto's to celebrate the holiday. And still, something pulled inside, wasn't settling, wouldn't ease up-

"Are you alright, Y/N?"

Fuyumi stood just a few feet from you, worry creased between her brows. "Yeah. Oh yeah, I'm fine, just getting some water!"

"I've known you for over a decade now, I think I can tell when you're lying." You took a long sip, trying to think up something to say so you could get out of this. "I overheard some of the girls talking, saying they think my baby brother has a crush... I'm guessing you think so too?"

Again, you didn't say anything and so she placed her hand gently on your forearm. "Shoto might have a crush, but, I don't think my brother will ever look at anyone else the way he looks at you."

Her words didn't relieve the ache in you, only added yet another layer because it was becoming very apparent that you weren't sure you could look at anyone else the way you looked at him either...

Twenty Years Old

You laid in the quiet of Shoto's bedroom after your run, the shower you shared, with your chin on his chest, cool fingers making lazy patterns over your skin. "My mother is going to be insufferable when she finds out about us." You grumbled.

His laugh was low but absolutely perfect, "I think my sister's going to be worse."

With a jolt, you shot up, hands beside his head. "What's your father going to say? All these years of being your not-friend! He's going to have a fit!"

He just rolled his eyes and flipped you both over, strands of red and white hair falling in your face, his nose brushing against yours. "It's a good thing that fourteen years has made me care a whole lot less about what Endeavor thinks."

Shoto's lips met yours for what felt like the hundredth time that night, slow and easy, using a knee to nudge your legs apart for him again while he worked his way down your jaw, down your neck, "Can we wait to tell them, just for a day or two?" You cocked a brow at him even though he was still trailing down your body, "They're all so nosy, I just want you to myself for a day or two." He kissed between your breasts, "Maybe a week if you let me." Lower his lips ventured, "We don't even have to leave this apartment..."

His tongue, cooled to a temperature he quickly figured out you preferred, licked a lazy line making your answer turn into a needy whine. "Sorry? Was that a, 'yes, Sho, that sounds like the best idea you've ever had?' Yes, yes, I know it is."

As soon as you opened your mouth, he pulled your hips so his tongue was flat on your core, holding you tightly to him. Your hands fisted the silky sheets, letting him have his way with you yet again. He'd bring you close to the edge only to back off, "Did you say you want to stay here for two weeks? Even better, darling." And he'd start all over again.

It took him only minutes to have you crying his name again, kissing his way back up to your face. "You have- a- very- persuasive argument," Panting, trying to come down from your high, "Let's just tell 'em the next time we see them," Your hips wiggled against him, despite how many times you'd already fucked you still wanted more, "If we don't see them for a couple months, eh, who cares?"

Three-Days Later

"Pay up! I said before they were 21!" Your mother was boasting to your father.

"Technically, Shoto turned 21 last month." Rei pointed out with a smile while Endeavor just shook his head at the antics.

Fuyumi was already asking Shoto how he was planning on proposing, turning the poor man into a stuttering pre-teen again.

"WAIT!" Natsuo slammed his cup down on the table, "You mean, you guys haven't been together since you were like thirteen!" He started listing off all the couple-y things you two did, the flirting and little banter, he'd witness while Fuyumi patted his shoulder.

"They're together now, that's all that matters."

#mha #bnha #mha fluff #mha smut #bnha fluff #bnha smut #shoto todoroki headcanons #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki fluff #shoto todoroki smut #todoroki smut #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #shoto x reader #shoto x y/n

583 notes · View notes

thirsty-flygirl · 3 years ago

Text

Touch Me

A Javier Peña x f!Reader Romance

Rating: Explicit - language, canon violence, sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll. You know the drill, no one under 18 allowed.

Word Count: 1688

Tags: let me know if you want to be! @katareyoudrilling here is the next part if you want to read!!

A/N: I do not speak Spanish so I have to thank the beautiful and talented @flightlessangelwings for helping me with the one line in this chapter!!

Part V: Kevlar

“Absolutely not.”

All eyes swiveled to Javier, eyebrows collectively raised at his refusal. You grit your teeth, trying to swallow your rage at the authoritative finality in his tone.

“I’m sorry?” You replied quietly, your words laced with fury despite your best attempts otherwise.

Javi propped his hands on his hips and offered you a level glare before responding.

“There’s no way you’re going out there.”

Steve gave a low whistle, looking down at the scarred surface of the conference table. Carrillo crossed his strong arms, turning to stare out the window.

Well, shit. So much for back-up.

“Where the fuck do you get off telling me what I can and can’t do, Peña?” Forget professionalism, you were out for blood.

“I know you think you run the show here, but Murph and I have just as much invested as you do.” You couldn’t believe that this was the same man who, less than two weeks ago, had effectively dumped you before you were even together. Since then he had said maybe seven words to you, without the balls to look you in the eye for a single one of them.

And now he wanted to dictate your involvement on missions?

Hell fucking no.

“Listen, this is my intel and my operation,” you seethed, clenching your fists and swallowing the raging desire to punch him in his smug face, “so you can cut the macho bullshit, Javi.” You pointed a shaking finger in his direction.

“I. Am. Going.”

He rounded the table, infuriated, and stopped just shy of where you stood before continuing.

“I’m not gonna let you go out there on a shitty tip and get yourself fucking killed! What if your guy is working for Escobar?”

“Not all of us have to fuck our informants to get good intel, Peña,” you hissed scathingly, watching with a twisted feeling of victory as his eyes flashed with anger. “Although,” you continued, letting a suggestive smirk slide across your face, “maybe if I did I could get to Escobar himself.”

Bingo.

Javier’s expression grew thunderous, eyebrows pulling together. He thrust his hand out, catching your wrist in a loose grip and pulling you toward him.

“If one of those bastards ever lays a hand on you, I’ll—”

“Enough.”

Three sets of eyes snapped to Carrillo, still standing by the window. He stared Javi down, the tension in the room palpable like an approaching thunderstorm, air heavy and electric with the heightened emotions pouring from each of you. Javi glared back, nostrils flaring and jaw grinding, still holding you close like he was afraid you would disappear.

Only seconds passed until, but it felt like an eternity until the fingers wrapped around your wrist fell away. You rubbed the skin there absently, not hurt so much as trying to shake the effect his simple touch had on you. You cleared your throat and continued, quietly but firmly.

“I’m going, Javier. You and Steve stay on the radio.”

You walked from the room, trying to calm your racing heart as you made your way outside. Crossing to where Carrillo's men were gathered, you offered them a nod as you reached into the truck, pulling the vest from the front seat and situating it over your head.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what you were up against, didn’t know the risks involved. You had gotten word from one of your informants that a drop was happening tonight and one of Escobar’s inner circle would be there. Capturing another well-known sicario was one step closer to getting Escobar himself, and you would be damned if you stayed behind while your partners took the lead.

For Javier to try and pull rank on you just showed how little he thought of you as an agent. His meaning tonight was clear: don't send a woman out to do a man's job.

The thought infuriated you, but you couldn't deny it fucking hurt, too. You'd thought he saw you as true partners, equals, that you were in this together. Now, it was like every facet of your complicated relationship was in question; did he only see you as a distraction, a roadblock to getting what he really wanted?

You pulled the velcro straps to tighten the vest around your ribcage, the renewed force of your anger propelling your movements. “Fuck,” you muttered, quickly unfastening the hook-and-eye fabric that you’d secured so tightly you could barely breathe. Focusing on the task at hand, you didn’t realize that Steve had joined you.

“Hey,” he called out softly, approaching you like you might turn your anger on him next. Your head snapped up at his voice, pausing in your movements to discern whether or not he was there to convince you to stay behind.

Steve held up his hands as he approached in a sign of peace. “I’m not here to argue, honey.” His blue eyes shone with such affection that you didn’t even give him shit for the pet name. Resting his hands on your shoulders, Steve ducked his head to catch your eye.

“Don’t leave without talking to him.”

You huffed and shrugged Steve’s hands off you, going back to tightening your kevlar.

“Why, so he can try to keep me off the op again?”

Tears stung your eyes and you pulled your lips together tightly, willing the sudden influx of emotion away; you couldn't let the men surrounding you see you in a moment of weakness.

Your vision blurred and you fumbled with the straps of the vest, unable to get them situated properly around your body. After a moment Steve reached out and gently covered your hands, moving them away so he could help.

“He’s scared out of his mind that this could go ass-up,” Murphy replied calmly, easily fastening the vest snugly around your torso. “I know you say your guy's legit, but if he flips and this turns on you, then we're handing you directly to Escobar. Javi's just trying to watch out for you." He regarded you silently for a moment.

"He only wants to keep you safe."

A watery laugh escaped you and you swiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. "Why? So that the two of you can rush out like heroes?" You shook your head. "Do you think I haven't thought of what could happen, Steve? If this mission does go south, I want it to be my ass on the line." Reaching out, you grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

"I need to make sure you're safe, too."

Steve smiled and pulled you in for a one-armed hug, landing a kiss on the top of your head. "We'll be on the radio. First sign of trouble, we're heading out to you."

"Deal." You looked over at Carrillo finishing up with the Bloc then giving you a nod to signal it was time. “We gotta go.”

You moved toward the truck, switching your brain into gear and letting the complications of your personal life settle into the recesses of your mind for the time being.

“We good?” you asked Carrillo, sliding onto the bench seat next to him. He replied in the affirmative, his deep, gravelly voice matching the rumble of the engine. Situating yourself, thoughts focused on the mission, you almost didn’t hear your name being called. Somehow filtering through the literal and figurative noise, Javier’s voice broke your concentration.

“Wait!”

Frowning, you watched as he jogged up to the side of the truck, his eyes wild with panic. “Don’t leave yet, I have to talk to you.” His words rushed out as he met your gaze. He swallowed thickly before continuing.

“Please.”

You swiveled your head toward Carrillo, who pounded a fist against the steering wheel and replied in short, clipped Spanish.

"Qué carajo, Peña?"

Javier ignored the colonel's outburst, instead keeping his wide brown eyes on yours.

"Please, just give me a minute."

Dropping your head you sighed loudly, throwing an apologetic glance at Carrillo before opening the door.

“You have exactly one minute, Javi.”

He walked a few feet away from the truck and you followed behind, wondering what had shifted his mood so drastically. Inside, his dark eyes had been alight with frustration, impatience, even anger. Now, he radiated a frantic energy that exacerbated your anxiety. You watched silently as he raked his hand through his dark hair and braced his hands against his hips.

“Javi, talk,” you insisted, crossing your arms protectively against your chest. He blinked at you, ran a hand roughly over his face, and exhaled deeply.

“Don’t go.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you exploded, foregoing your defensive stance in favor of throwing your hands up in the air. “Are you that much of an asshole that you really don’t trust me to handle this on my own?”

You turned to leave, furious, making it only a step before Javier’s warm hand wrapped around your bicep, pulling you back to face him.

“It’s not about the goddamn mission,” he growled through gritted teeth, his face inches from yours. He paused, eyes locked on yours, before continuing in a low, fierce voice.

“I can’t risk something happening to you."

You shook your head, blood rushing in your ears. What was he trying to say? Was this some perverse way to get you to abandon the mission, by using your feelings for him to manipulate you?

“No,” you pushed at his broad shoulders, forcing him to release you. “You can't do this...I won’t let you do this, not now. I have to go, Javier.”

You turned away, jogging back to the truck and throwing yourself in the passenger seat. Carrillo swung out into the street quickly, the small caravan containing the rest of the Search Bloc following close behind.

Left standing on the concrete as daylight turned to dusk, Javier watched you go with a sinking heart, dread and sheer terror churning in his gut at the idea that he might have missed his last chance to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he needed you. . .

. . . That he was in love with you.

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #javi x reader #steve murphy #horacio carrillo

194 notes · View notes

bokettochild · 3 years ago

Text

Violet

So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?

I wrote a thing based off of it.

I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...

Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.

There are many things you do not do in Castletown.

One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!

They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.

It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?

Maybe it was because they were split.

It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.

True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.

In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.

That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.

He made small talk.

It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.

“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.

“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”

Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.

Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.

Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.

Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?

What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.

Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.

Bravo, Rancher, bravo.

“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”

“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.

Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.

They needed a distraction, fast.

So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”

His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”

Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.

Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.

Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.

“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”

Woman?!?!?!

“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”

Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?

A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.

“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.

Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”

The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?

“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.

“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.

“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.

People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.

“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.

“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”

The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.

“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.

“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”

“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”

And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”

Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.

Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.

“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”

It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.

“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”

Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.

He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.

“They thought we were married....”

Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”

“Yeah.”

"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.

Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe crack #idiot writes crack #lu four #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wind #lu twilight #animatic #legend and four are best friends shoot me

262 notes · View notes

jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

644 notes · View notes

hyuckssunchip · 4 years ago

Text

[8:55 pm] - Pt. 2 (happy)

Pairings: Taeyong x Reader

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), violence (hitting), angst

Synopsis:

‘when he hurts you’ boyfriend drabble

a misunderstanding escalates to something more, what will happen to their relationship??

(note: this is just a character, i trust that Taeyong would never use violence)

Tag list: @popsuhcle @ne0yong

Part 1

It had been almost a week since Taeyong was able to get in touch with you, and although he was desperate to, he didn’t try very hard. He didn’t seem to have the time nor the will too.

It had been almost a week when Doyoung showed up at your door.

By the look on his face he was more than drained by the constant work and practice he was putting into their next comeback. You couldn’t even imagine what Taeyong looked like. He always seemed to show his wear and tear the most.

“Doyoung?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Y/N, hi.” There was a pause, as if he was regretting coming here. “Can I come in?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, not even realising that he was still standing in the doorway. Stepping away, you gestured for him to enter, taking notice of his heavy steps.

You offered him a glass of water and seat, which he gladly took, glancing with pitiful eyes in your direction. You weren’t dumb, you knew why he was here.

“Taeyong….” He started slowly, gauging your reaction, continuing only when he was sure that you weren’t going to kick him out. “I think you should talk to him, he’s not doing well.”

A frown flitted over your face, “What do you mean he’s not doing well?”

Doyoung just shook his head, “I don’t know much about what happened between you two, Taeyong wouldn’t tell me anything, but I know that whatever it is, it’s taking a toll on the both of you.”

He glanced at your appearance, and you tightened your jacket over your shirt.

But any guilt or hurt quickly caved to anger, “Why should I be the one to reach out first? He was in the wrong and if he can’t talk to me… if he has to go through you… I don’t think that he’s really trying very hard.”

“I’m not going to defend him, because I don’t know what happened, but… he really does care about you. He’s just stressed and overwhelmed right now.”

You cast your eyes downwards, fumbling with your sleeves. “That doesn’t make it okay.” You mumbled out.

Doyoung was silent for a while.

“I know.”

He heaved a sigh, standing up from his seat with his hands in his pockets. “If you do want to talk it out, Taeyong’s been locked up in his studio for the past week. You’ll know where to find him.”

You shut your eyes tightly, jumping slightly as the soft slam of the door. A wave of guilt washed over you. Things had gotten out of hand then, it wasn’t like it was all his fault, you had egged him on. After all it takes two to tango.

You groaned, flopping onto the couch and throwing your arm over your face, heart already decided.

The familiar brown door stared back at you, as if testing you. You weren’t sure how long you had been standing there, hand growing tired with the bad full of food, dangling with a heavy presence.

Was this a bad idea? Would things end up like they did last time?

Your thoughts teased you, caving into your irrational thoughts.

“Y/N?”

Your breath caught in your throat as his familiar voice startled you from behind.

“Oh.”

Taeyong scratched the back of his head nervously, eyes unable to reach yours, not that you were trying.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

A lie.

“Oh.”

He gestured to the door and moved to open it for the two of you, standing beside it as you entered first.

The room was a mess.

For someone as cleanly and perfectionist as Taeyong was, you couldn’t believe your eyes. There were empty take out containers, heaps of clothes from long nights stuck there, papers strewn over every possible surface.

Your face scrunched in guilt. This wasn’t like him at all.

As if he realized, or had seen your expression, he quickly moved to shoved things off, making room for you to sit, which hesitantly took.

A moment of awkward silence later you cleared your throat. “Here, uh.. I brought you breakfast. I didn’t think that you had eaten yet.”

There was a smile plastered on his face, but it wasn’t real. It didn’t reach his eyes the way that you were used to.

“Thanks, yeah I’m starving.” But all the while he took his food, his eyes never left yours.

Instinctively you gulped, pulling away. You wrung your hands at the awkward air that settled over the room.

“Can we talk?”

Taeyong tensed at the question as he played with the straps of the bag.

“Yeah.”

He sunk into the seat across from you, running his hand over his face in distress.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you first… about uh… the other day.”

Your mouth stayed shut, but your eyes begged him to continue.

“Look, I… I fucked up. Like really bad. First of all, I should never, never have laid a hand on you. If there’s one thing that I regret… ever is that. It was unwarranted and no one, especially you deserves to be treated like that. You have every right in the world to be upset and angry, and I would too, if I were you.”

He paused to breathe, weary of your reaction. You stayed silent to let him continue.

“If you would let me explain what you saw too… I promise you that it’s nothing like what you thought it was.”

He took a deep breath continuing when you let him. “That… She’s a sound producer that SM is using right now, and she’s been really trying to bounce ideas off of me. I promise that it’s nothing more than that. And the picture… it’s not like I chose it, apple does that stupid thing, you know, where it automatically updates the contact.”

Taeyong sighed, not willing to look back at you in case you didn’t agree with his excuses.

Little did he know you were doing the same. Communication. That’s all that was needed and all of this could’ve been avoided. If you weren’t so stubborn and actually willing to listen to an explanation, your relationship would’ve never been in this mess.

“No, I’m sorry.” Taeyong whipped his head to find your eyes. “I was stubborn and upset and… there were a lot of emotions going on. I handled it horribly, and it’s no wonder things went horribly wrong. Yes, what you did was wrong, but it would’ve never gotten that far if I just listened-”

“Stop it. You keep painting yourself in this way. Like you’re the cause of everything, like it was a domino effect. But let’s be real, it was both of our faults. If we can… learn and grow from this, as people and partners…”

You smiled at him, “I’m sorry.” He tried to interrupt. “No, just let me say that one more time. I am… really sorry. And… I love you so goddamn much.”

“Not more than I love you.”

You found yourself pressed against his chest, wrapped between his familiar arms.

You let it last for a couple more moments before you pulled back. “Let’s get this place cleaned up, it literally looks like a dump, and that’s not an exaggeration.”

His face screwed up in agreement, “Yeah… I’ve uh been stressing a lot. You noticed?”

You smacked his chest playfully at the comment.

“Oh, and don’t think that I’m not gonna make up for our anniversary date. I’ve been working on my present for months now, you are not leaving without it.”

You didn’t think that your smile could get any wider.

Part 1

111 notes · View notes

jordanstrophe · 4 years ago

Text

For Your Own Good

CW: Emotional Whumpee trying to extract revenge, rough/harsh caretaker, manhandling, forcefully carried, past torture implied, angst

Whumpee had gone insane.

Even after being rescued, they never let themselves recover. They spent all their time locked away in their room tracking whumper’s location, predicting their movements and planning their revenge.

They wanted them to suffer. Even if it was but a fraction of what they felt.

A soft knock came from Caretaker, who held a tray full of snacks and a drink.

“Whumpee? You didn’t come for dinner again. I’m getting worried about you. Can you please try to just nibble on someth-'' Caretaker froze mid sentence when they saw their room trashed. Paper littered the floors, holes in the wall from their fist no doubt, and Whumpee hunched over a desk scribbling away on a map with a red marker like a madman.

“Oh, whumpee...” Caretaker sighed, setting the tray next to them. “How long have you-” -”Enough!!” Whumpee snapped, hardly glancing away from their work. “I have to-... I have to find them!” They cried, slamming their fist on the table.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry.” Caretaker raised their hands and backed away.

“I’ll leave the tray, please, try and eat something.” They quietly reminded before shutting the door.

The next day, Caretaker had to do a double take when they saw Whumpee up and... Excited?

“I found them! I know where they are!” Whumpee cheered, struggling to pull their coat on. “What? Whumpee, you can’t be serious! You’re still recovering!” Caretaker argued.

“I’m fine! I can do this.” They hissed.

“Do what, Whumpee? What are you doing to do when you find them, hmm?”

“I-... I know what I’m doing...”

“Do you!? You've hardly taken care of yourself all week! You’re in no condition to face them! Please, let someone else handle this. I don’t want to see you hurt yourself even more.” Caretaker pleaded.

Every word seemed to make them angrier as they stormed out with a groan and slammed the door behind them. Caretaker practically mimicked their groan before running out to follow them.

They made it to an old crumbled shop. Whumpee struggled to pull themselves out of the car as they staggered to keep their balance as soon as their feet touched the ground.

“Hey” Caretaker called, grabbing their arm. “You can hardly walk. Please, stay in the car. We’ll get them, okay?” They tried to sooth.

“I have to do this... I’m going to do this. You can’t stop me.” They slurred, ripping their arm from Caretaker's grasp as they swayed and rapidly blinked to focus.

“Whumpee... I know you want to. But you can’t.” Caretaker’s hand found their cheek as they turned their head back, their hand feeling damp with tears. Whumpee’s eyes widened when they felt them too, reaching up and touching their soaked cheek. They whimpered miserably, their arms falling slack at their side and began to tremble.

“I-...I’m sorry..”

“No.” Caretaker cooed, brushing the hair from their face.

“I’m sorry.”

Before they could register what they even meant, they were already bent over Caretaker’s shoulder and carried back to the car.

“Wha-?... No! Stop it! Put me down!” They screamed, weakly hammering a fist into Caretaker’s back. They swung the car door open and dumped them into the back seat. Whumpee struggled, writhing and sobbed hysterically in their grasp as Caretaker just held them tightly against their chest.

“Caretaker stop! Let go of me! I have to do this, pl-ease!” They cried.

They held them there for what felt like hours until they started to drift off, the exhaustion and stressful week hitting them like a train. Whumpee’s cheek was squished against their shoulder as their breathing began to slow and relax, their eyes falling closed.

“I’m sorry. It was for your own good.” They whispered, knowing Whumpee couldn’t hear them.

But they didn’t need to.

Tag list: @grizzlie70 @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @mascmasochist @hamiltonwhumpdump @shokuhoemisaki

o(^∀^*)o Thank you for reading!

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #caretaking #defiant whumpee #stern caretaker #broken whumpee #recovering whumpee #whump prompts #caretaking prompts #harsh caretaker #emotional whump #vengeful whumpee #midnight poooost again

105 notes · View notes

walkerismychoice · 3 years ago

Text

Queen of My Heart - Chapter 38 (The End!)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake X MC, Liam X Olivia, Hana X OC Lydia

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The show comes to and end, and Riley contemplates her future

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I’ve finally brought this series to an end. There was quite a long time I thought I may never finish. I want to thank all the readers and friends who’ve read and encouraged me along the way. I want to especially thank @debramcg1106 as of late for helping me work through the ending and pushing me to finish it out. This is the technical end of the story, but I do have an epilogue planned as well.

Tag List: @khakie4 @dreadpirateemma @ritachacha @blackcoffee85 @choices-fanatic @boneandfur @butindeed @simplyaiden-blog @bobasheebaby @traeumerinsworld @theroyalweisme @umccall71 @lizeboredom @debramcg1106 @enmchoices @withice @viktoriapetit @mfackenthal @drakesfiance @drakelover78 @speedyoperarascalparty @silviasutton1989 @krisnicjack @devineinterventions2 @choiceswreckedme @notoriouscs @blackcatkita @hamalu @akrenich @drakewalkerfantasy @jamielea81 @andy-loves-corgis @jlouise88 @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @i-miss-trr @dragonball-luver @gkittylove99 @lovingchoices14

Word Count: 2230

Queen of My Heart Chapter Index

Due to everything that transpired, filming of the finale was delayed two weeks. Riley was grateful for the time and hardly left Drake’s side during his recovery. He was sent back to the palace after a couple days, and Riley had to convince him that whiskey was not a suitable replacement for the antibiotics and pain medication the doctor prescribed. Reluctantly he obliged. He worked with physical therapy, and by the end of those two weeks, you’d have hardly known he’d been injured at all.

Olivia was salty her ball had been ruined, but the production staff made up for it, giving her and Liam an overnight filmed at Olivia’s northern Lythikos retreat. She was still worried the country would favor Riley with Liam, but Kat assured Olivia between her heroic actions, personal growth, and some favorable editing, it would be hard for most people not to be on her side.

As for Madeleine, it was still unclear if she would be charged criminally or would be incompetent to stand trial due to her mental health, but either way, she wouldn’t be a danger to anyone for quite some time. It was questionable if Jo’s involvement in the whole thing broke any laws. She wasn’t Cordonian, so she couldn’t be charged with treason for skirting security and endangering the life of the crown prince, but authorities were looking to see if there was anything they could make stick. At the very least she was blacklisted and would never work in television again.

So finally, on a calm, clear, day, there was only one obstacle left. Riley met with Liam, adorned in a stunning, body-hugging, Swarovski crystal filled dress, to put on the performance of a lifetime and act as if he’d shattered her heart. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. There were a couple of takes where neither of them could keep a straight face followed few that were unbelievably dramatic, but ultimately Riley was able to tap into her vulnerability and the tragedy she had faced to bring genuine emotion and tears to light. It didn’t matter that it was unrelated to what was happening in the scene, it was real. Kat said it was perfect, and Liam was free to propose to Olivia.

-----

Now that all is said and done, who will Liam choose to be his future Queen? Will it be the fierce Duchess Olivia, or the plucky newcomer Riley? Stay tuned for the finale of Queen of My Heart.”

Maxwell draped his arm around Riley’s shoulder. “What do you think, sis? How did I do on my television debut.”

Maxwell, Bertrand, Savannah, Hannah, Lydia, Liam, Olivia, Riley, and Drake were all huddled in the palace screening room to watch the finale as it aired.

Just about anyone would have been an improvement over Chad,” Riley teased, ”but the squid suit was definitely a nice touch. Your delivery was great, but did you have to call me plucky?”

“You know I had to play it cool,” Maxwell explained. “Plucky is good, but not over the top. Don’t want anyone thinking I’m playing favorites because you’re my sister.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “The suggested ‘noble newcomer’ would have been sufficient.”

“It was a stylistic choice.” Maxwell made a gesture with his hand indicating a mock hair flip.

"Ugh, enough about Maxwell," Olivia groaned. "I'm ready to get to the good part. Can we just fast-forward through any mushy Liam and Riley stuff? Nobody needs to see that."

"I second that." Drake raised his hand in rare agreement with Olivia.

Liam just shook his head. "I know nobody watches live network television anymore, so you must have forgotten how this works. There's no fast-forwarding. Not even through commercials."

"That's fine with me." Lydia chimed in. "More time for making out."

"Lydia!" Hannah's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

Lydia pecked her on the lips. "Sorry babe. You're just too damn cute when you blush."

Hannah remained quiet but her smile gave her away. Lydia, with her outgoing, bold, and slightly unpredictable personality, was the perfect complement to Hannah being so shy, proper, and focused. They brought out the best in each other, and the difference in Hannah between when Riley met her until now was night and day.

The friends watched the show and Riley only cringed at herself in a few places, which was much less than she thought she would. Things did get a bit awkward during the montage of kissing scenes between Riley and Liam, and Maxwell and Bertrand made a show of covering their eyes for the steamier parts. They all laughed inappropriately when Liam dumped Riley since they knew it wasn't real. And then finally when Liam proposed to Olivia, everyone cheered.

Riley thought of her friends and family at home. She pictured aunt Susan, Sarah, and Daniel all rooting for her and how disappointed they must have been that she "lost." She couldn't wait to tell them, however, she hadn't lost at all.

"Wow, Livvy." Drake quipped, bringing Riley out of her deep thoughts. "How much did you have to pay them to give you such a flattering edit?"

Olivia threw a pillow at his head which he deftly dodged. "Fuck off, Walker. You were so desperate to get on the show, you leapt in front of a bullet."

"Now, now children." Liam said in a mock scolding tone. "Let's all play nice."

"Yes, father," Drake and Olivia replied in unison, causing laughter to erupt around the room.

Riley still didn't have all the answers about what her future would hold, but she had found her people. Where she was in that moment was where she needed to be.

Savannah yawned. "It's getting late. We should probably go and relieve the sitter." Riley hasn't wanted to pry into Savannah and Bertrand's relationship, but they were working together to parent Bartie and things seemed to be falling into place for them.

"Yes, yes." Bertrand agreed. "Time is money!"

"Oh my god, Bertrand." Savannah rolled her eyes. "Life isn't all about money."

"She’s right." Maxwell propped his arm on Savannah's shoulder. "Besides, now that the show is over, we'll be getting some money, and Kat said if viewers responded well to me, they would probably offer to extend my contract in the franchise. By the looks of these tweets, I'm going to be rolling in dough. 'That Maxwell guy is so hot...ridiculously funny...just what the show needed.' Should I read more?

"Please no." Bertrand groaned. "We can talk finances later. Goodnight, all."

As the rest of the crowd dwindled, Liam asked Drake and Riley to stay behind. He kissed Olivia and promised to join her when the conversation was through.

"So what's up?" Drake got right to the point once only the three of them remained.

Liam cleared his throat. "Well as you know, I highly value your loyalty to the crown."

"Heh." Drake let out a terse laugh. "I don't really give a fuck about the crown, but I do care about you."

"In any case, you take your job very seriously and I could see you as head of the guard one day, once Bastien retires." Liam paused before continuing. "However, I do have another proposition for you."

Drake raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Go on."

"How would you like to be the head of Valtoria?" Liam asked expectantly.

Drake' eyes narrowed in contemplation. "I thought Valtoria was unoccupied. Is there a new Duke or Duchess there now that needs a security detail?"

"No, no." Liam laughed. "Well, there could be. That's what I'm trying to ask you. I would like to give Valtoria to you."

"No fucking way. You have to be kidding me. Did you sign up for some royal version of a prank show now?" Drake scanned the room as if searching for hidden cameras.

"I'm serious, Drake. I think you would make a fantastic duke."

Drake scoffed. "I'm a commoner who despises most nobles and everything the monarchy stands for."

"That's exactly why you'd be perfect for the role." Liam explained. "Cordonia needs a fresh perspective - someone who can resonate with the people the monarchy serves. Just think, you could have a real voice in creating change. I don't want to rule like my father has and his father before. I want the people to have the representation they deserve, and you are a key to that."

Drake sighed deeply. "I don't know Li. Even if I could do this - if I wanted to - what makes me worthy? What's everyone going to say when they find out you gave an average dude the title of Duke just because he's your best friend?"

"I'll tell them that Drake Walker is anything but average. He's smart, capable, and fiercely loyal. He's saved my life more times than I count and has more integrity than anyone I know. Public policy can be learned, but these qualities cannot be taught. He may not be noble by blood, but he is my family, and he belongs."

'Wow, Liam." Drake ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say."

"You're quiet over there." Liam directed at Riley. "What do you think?"

"Me?!" Riley had been as shocked by this as Drake, and she didn't know what to think. This was about Drake, not her. Did her opinion really matter? "I, uh.... think this is really Drake's decision."

Drake took Riley's hands in his. "But it's yours too. I mean, if we are going to be together..."

"Oh, well..." How was Riley supposed to help Drake decide such a life altering thing when she didn't even have her own life sorted out?

Drake didn't leave her fumbling for too long. "Liam, I really don't know if either of use is equipped to answer this question right now. It's a very generous offer, and the fact that I'm not totally shutting you down for suggesting such a ridiculous thing as me being a Duke should tell you I'm genuinely willing to entertain the idea."

Liam chuckled. "I completely understand. This life is new to both of you in different ways, and to navigate a new relationship on top of all that is a lot to ask. I'm in no hurry to fill the vacancy. Consider it an open-ended invitation. I trust that you'll be ready to make your decision long before the public pressures me into making a new appointment."

"Thanks, Liam." Drake gave him hug and patted him on the back. "Now get back to your fiancé before she blames me for keeping you too long."

-----

Back in her palace guestroom, Riley nestled into Drake, her head resting on his chest. "It's been quite a night, huh?

"You could say that again." Drake pulled her tighter against him.

"I kind of feel like we're moving so fast, we're skipping steps - like we're being asked to decide the rest of our lives before we even know what we want to do tomorrow." Riley knew nobody was outright asking for an immediate decision, but she felt the weight of everyone's expectations. Whether she stayed in Cordonia or went back home, she'd probably be disappointing someone.

"Who says we have to?" Drake asked. "You heard Liam. He doesn't need an answer right away. I Know you haven't decided what you want, and I sure as hell don't know what I'm going to do yet. Why don't we take some time together to just...be. Do normal couple things and see where the relationship takes us."

"Normal couple things... I mean I don't know how I can go back to my normal peasant life after attending weekly balls dressed in couture gowns," Riley teased, "but I think I could make that sacrifice for you, my commoner boyfriend."

"Hey, watch who you are calling commoner." Drake pinned Riley down and tickled her sides until she begged him to stop, and he collapsed beside her again. "I just may outrank you soon if I so choose."

Riley laced her fingers through Drake's. "It's crazy to think how our lives have changed in a few short months. I don't think I could have made it through all of this without you, and not just because you kept literally saving my life."

"You may not have taken a bullet for me, but you've saved me too. For once in my life, I see multiple paths with meaning and purpose. I've seen so much of myself reflected in you, but it id the version of me I want to be, not the one I was. You've shown me trials and hardships don't have to make you bitter, and that you don't have to fit the cookie cutter mold to find your place here... Oh, God, listen to me. What have you done to me Bennett?" Drake shuddered in mock disgust.

Riley softly pressed her lips to his and pulled back with a smirk. "I don't think I can take all the credit, or the blame as you might put it. But enough talk about the future. You said we should focus on the now, and right now all I need is you."

"Well then, your wish is my command." Drake pulled Riley tight to him and then they lost themselves in each other, completely unencumbered by any decisions about their future. Those could wait for another day.

#playchoices fanfic #drake x mc #drake walker #the royal romance #choices trr #qomh #my fic

44 notes · View notes

limitlessgojo · 3 years ago

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 10)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Wait For Me

Next Chapter: Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill Event

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

We are halfway through the story~ I never planned for this to be over 40k😅 but I've added some integral scenes in the later chapters. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10: Invisible Ties

You couldn't sleep at all the few nights that followed. Mai and the others noticed your fatigue. They worriedly asked about you and let you cuddle into them and nap when you had some free time.

Miwa even let's you stay with her in her room at times, and it does help for a bit, but you don't want to bother them. And something was telling you it wasn't just regular fatigue.

You sometimes zone out in class and could barely stay awake during physical training. Eventually, you consulted Utahime about your possible insomnia.

You had a feeling it was tied to your feeling of unrest over your soulmate bond. It didn't help that your soulmark was stinging and all your heart wanted was to be with Noritoshi. There was a strong sense of unease over this bond.

You pulled down your sleeve to reveal the mark on your wrist flashing madly like a broken stoplight. You groaned and shoved your face into your pillow.

You've taken to wrapping a black velvet ribbon on it during the day, to not attract attention. If this light flashing keeps up, you might have to use a thicker fabric.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was feeling the same uneasiness you did. He tried to shake it off and act as natural as he could around you, but even he was still shook at how quickly your negative emotions transmitted over the bond.

He was in his room and it was past 11. He tried to get to sleep, but found that he couldn’t so he tried studying. He was actually distracted for once, looking over his desk at the soulmate record and diaries of Hotaru and found himself reading them.

◇◇◇

On the other hand, you were restless in your room.

"I shouldn't bother Noritoshi senpai but..." You glanced over at your clock. 12:06am. Just past midnight, he was surely asleep. And yet you found yourself grabbing your pillow and blankets, and quietly making your way to his dorm room.

It was as if your body was moving under the command of your red strings. Pulling you back to the man who was responsible for messing you up like this.

You stood outside for a good 5 minutes, contemplating on whether or not you should knock. You haven't had a proper sleep in nights and it is starting to show in your studies.

Finally, you decided to quietly knock a few times. A beat passed and there was no response. You were about to walk away when the door opened. He was awake to your surprise.

He was in his dark navy Kimono, hair wrappings undone. Some strands of his hair fell over his eyes. At that moment, you thought to yourself that he was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Can I help you y/n?” He was staring at your pillows and blankets.

Ah right. All of the sudden you feel so small and dumb for coming all the way here for no good reason. “Ah, Noritoshi senpai. Um, good evening.” You scrambled for words.

“I, uhm, I’m sorry I can’t really sleep- Ah what I mean to say is that I haven’t been sleeping well lately and I was wondering if I-” a cold gust of air blew past you and you shivered.

Noritoshi’s eyes widened at this and he pulled you into his room and closed the door behind you. He was so close, your face turned bright red. Way too close for comfort.

He seemed to get the hint and took a step back from you. “So you want to stay the night with me, is that what you’re getting at?”

You stayed still before slowly nodding, then looked up to see his reaction. His face was like stone, nothing was giving anything away. He didn’t look so happy to see you in your opinion.

“I’m sorry to disturb you…. I was gonna…. ask… if I ….. could … sleep …. on … your floor…, “ your voice was getting smaller and softer with each word, heart clenching painfully. Your fists tightly scrunched up in your blankets.

Suddenly he leaned down close to bring his face to yours and raised his hand. You flinched and closed your eyes tightly, expecting a “no.”

He cupped your cheeks gently and touched the bags of your eyes with his fingers. “You’ve been looking so exhausted lately, I was actually going to bring it up to you, but I wasn’t able to catch you earlier today. Just share the bed with me.”

You blinked. What. Did you hear that right?

You looked at him with wide eyes. His face was red too. “Is this okay with you? I really don’t want to overstep my boundaries… Last time….” you opened your mouth then realized you didn’t come here to dump all the shit that’s troubling your mind onto Noritoshi.

‘I’m sure he also has it hard on his end’. “Ah, never mind. Thank you so much senpai.” you smiled up at him.

Noritoshi’s chest hurts to see you fake a smile towards him. Time and time again, he’s loved watching how expressive and honest you are with your emotions.

He’s seen your genuine smiles more often than not. Seeing you like this just felt wrong.

“Tell me.” He said.

“Ah- it’s really nothing, I know you’ve been dealing with so much on your end, you’re also stressed, I’m just thankful that you’re letting me stay here in your room-” you were rambling without realizing it.

“Tell me. Don’t hold back. I can feel your unease through the soulmate bond.” he said sternly.

Noritoshi was starting to understand that you both had to work through the negative emotions each one feels together. That’s the reason for the soulmate bond. Ignoring it would be like dragging yourselves through mud.

You got the gist of his line of thought, having the same realization at the same time. You spoke cautiously so as not to offend him, "This has been bothering me. Last time in your room, it just felt like you were treating me as an outsider and it hurt. Like I thought that we were more than that, but maybe it's just me. Also, you once said I didn't know who you are. So I just…. Wanted to understand you better..."

Noritoshi’s eyes softened, and he just couldn’t resist you anymore. He pulled you towards his bed and set down your blankets and pillows. Then turned back to you, “Can I hug you?”

“Of course.” It was fun to see him blush and awkwardly hold his arms out towards you. You stepped into his space, grabbed one arm to throw around your shoulder, and the other around your waist. As he didn’t seem to know where to hold you.

"I do admit I have my secrets and I’m not ready to tell you about them yet. For that I apologize, you have to wait a bit longer until I’m more comfortable with you. But you're not an outsider to me my dear. You could never be. I also believe that we are more than friends, like I said before. I need you to trust me a little more. And I’ll do the same with you, I’ll trust you a bit more. I want it all and this soulbond, as long as it's you."

Your eyes widened and sparkled upon hearing his words. Your bond finally settled into something of a quiet hum underneath your veins. You hugged him tighter, which he smiled at.

"I'm sorry, I should have explained to you how I felt senpai." You whispered sadly. But he just hushed you and held your hand. "It's okay, next time we can do better. Let’s start anew shall we?"

You spoke out a soft yes in response. It was honestly still a disjointed relationship. Like you’re both just two parts of a whole trying to find their way to each other.

"Let's face the truth. This is really an unconventional relationship. We can't really abide by the normal fall in love then confess situation can we?" You said.

"Why can't we?" Noritoshi asked, looking a bit surprised. "It's unconventional and gives us a fair share of problems, that's true. But we can still fall in love and confess the normal way. With time." He added.

You just hummed and nodded.

You pulled back from him, “Anywayss, Why are you still awake at this hour anyways senpai? It's bedtime.”

“Reading the diary of a man who was my past life.” Your eyes widened at that. “Let’s read a bit of it together, then we can sleep?” You nodded.

He set up the pillows so both of you could lean side by side in bed while reading the diary entries. The story was not a nice one. Hotaru eloping with his lover, on the run from their families, curses and curse users. Constantly taking odd jobs to get money, and hiding in old inns. It sounded so exhausting.

You found yourself looking over at Noritoshi every now and then, wanting to lean closer, your eyelids getting heavier.

He turned to you then looked at the clock. 12:47am.

No classes tomorrow, since it's the weekend but you looked terribly sleepy. So he closed the book, set it aside. Closed the lights before climbing in beside you.

You stretched out like a cat before tucking yourself under the sheets. "Sleep time??"

He smiled at you. "Yeah." He laid down beside you, and you were both lying on your sides, facing each other.

"Good night darling." He whispered. Your face heated up but you thanked the darkness that he couldn't see your blush at the pet name.

"Good night Nori- ah senpai." You whispered back.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Drop the Senpai, just call me Noritoshi."

"Okay…. Noritoshi."

"Mmmm."

2 minutes passed, but you're both still staring at each other.

"Noritoshi."

"What is it?"

"Nothing much… Just saying your name feels nice. Can we hold hands while we sleep?"

He chuckled and reached to clasp both your hands in his. Your mark has long stopped flashing wildly. It's now a warm dark red glow.

You smiled at your marks.

"Can I kiss you? Properly?" He asked hesitantly.

Oh. You would like that very much. Your heart is literally in your throat, beating so furiously Noritoshi could probably feel it.

You could feel some of his stronger emotions through the bond. He really wants to hold you in his arms, you realized. You never felt so bare with another person before. He could probably feel your emotions too, so no point in hiding it.

As you nodded, he slowly crawled over you, caging you in with his arms. Slow, he was too slow.

You grabbed the front of his Kimono and pulled his lips down to yours. His eyes widened, but soon closed shut as he finally finally got to taste you. He was careful not to crush you as he pressed you into the sheets for a deeper kiss.

You both found yourselves running your hands over the other's body. His tongue entered your mouth and played with yours. Dangerous. Your hands tugging at his hair. It was getting dangerous.

Noritoshi quickly pulled back, chest heaving against yours, and tucked you under his chin. His heartbeat was beating furiously before quickly calming down.

"Darling I'm-" how could he tell you that he wants you right now. This wasn’t good, he had to hold himself back. He kissed you on the forehead.

"Shhhh, I'm right here." he whispered sweet nothings into your ears as you whined out at the loss of his lips on yours. "Time for bed as you said. Good night." He kissed you once more on the cheek.

You pouted and looked up to see him cuddle you with such a soft expression. So you relented, "Okay. Good night Noritoshi." And fell into a deep sleep in his arms.

◇◇◇

"Nnnghhh…."

"Mmnghhh…."

…. You opened your eyes to see Noritoshi groaning above you. It's like 3am, in the middle of the night, and you accidentally shoved your knee in his gut.

He was still asleep, but he could feel the pain. You hurriedly retracted your knee, reaching over to pat him on the back. Then moving to stroke him gently on the head.

As he finally settled back into sleep, you subconsciously moved forward to tuck your head under his neck. He is feverishly warm and comfortable. It’s gonna be hard going to bed without him.

And as you fell back into a deep sleep in his arms, Noritoshi, still asleep, wrapped his arms tighter around you and then continued dozing off.

◇◇◇

You felt yourself wake up with the best night’s sleep you’ve had in years. And that was saying something.

Noritoshi was still sleeping. He looked like he was having a rather nice dream. You traced the outline of his features with your fingers until his eyes snapped open.

You jumped back, shrieking and almost falling off the edge of the bed. But Noritoshi had fast reflexes, hand reaching out to grab your waist and pull you close to him. Your face smacked into his chest.

"Morning." His voice was so deep and raspy, you shivered at the sound. His eyes darkened.

"Morning senpai." You whispered, feeling so small.

"Do you make it a habit to play with other people’s faces while they’re asleep?" He whispered.

Goosebumps prickled along your skin as he stroked your arms slowly. "Ahh, I didn’t know you were awake, I’m sorry." You blushed.

Both of your stomachs were kind enough to growl and save your sorry ass. Noritoshi laughed at this.

"My darling needs some breakfast. I'll have the Kamo household prepare and deliver some for us." He said as he reached for his phone.

"Noritoshi, you don't have to, I don't want to be a bother really." You tugged at his sleeves.

“I already said you're never a bother to me haven't I?” He slumped over you as he typed out a text.

You groaned from underneath, "You're heavy Noritoshi."

"That's to stop you from leaving my room without breakfast." He deadpanned.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #kamo noritoshi x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #red strings of fate #blood bound

61 notes · View notes

briefinquiries · 4 years ago

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Premature

Request: ‘can i request an imagine where the reader is pregnant and luke’s away on a case when she goes into labor? and garcia has to call luke to get him home?’

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @saintd0lce , @ogmilkis , @reidswords, @ssa-morgan, @garcias-batcave , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: idk why i always picture luke with a daughter??? but anyway another DAD luke fic like yes pls, enjoy!

The worst part about being pregnant had to be the lower back aches. Or maybe the way your swollen ankles prevented you from fitting into any of your cute shoes. It could also be the tender breasts, the mood swings, or how food didn’t taste as good, yet somehow you were still always hungry. Come to think of it, being pregnant, in general, was the worst.

Currently, you were seven and a half months along. You had 6 weeks until your daughter would be born. 6 weeks somehow felt both impossibly long and just around the corner. On one hand, you really couldn’t wait to get your body back. You missed wearing pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband, and the freedom of being able to get out of bed without Luke’s help.

On the other hand, you and Luke were going to be first time parents. This brought about a lot of anxiety and uncertainty. There was still so much to get done before the baby arrived, that at times you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

“You worry too much,” Luke had told you one afternoon.

But you disagreed. “Luke, she’s gonna be here in less than two months and her room isn’t even close to being finished. We still have to paint, and put together the crib-”

“We have six weeks, baby. I’ll get it done, I promise.”

His reassuring words did little to calm your mind or your nerves. One thing that did keep the anxious thoughts at bay, was work. Focusing your attention on BAU cases was the perfect distraction… until that was taken away from you too.

“I don’t want you in the field,” Luke had stated that night.

“You’re joking, right?”

Luke’s pressed lips and slightly flared nostril told you that no, he was not joking.

“Luke,” you’d groaned, throwing your head back against the pillow. “I’m fine.”

“You can barely walk, let alone chase after anyone,” he stated, his arms folding across his chest. He always did that when he wanted you to take him seriously. “And I know for a fact that you can’t fit into a bulletproof vest.”

You threw him your best glare. “Okay, first off, that was mean. Second, you can’t expect me to just sit here all day doing nothing. I’ll go insane, you know I will.”

“Baby, you’re seven months pregnant. You need to relax.”

“Relax? Seriously, Luke?” you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. Lately you've been finding it so hard to control your emotions, so you’re not entirely surprised when you feel the burning of tears in your eyes. “I can’t relax! I’m uncomfortable all the time. I’m fat and I’m hot and I’m sweaty. My boobs feel like they’re going to explode any second. I’m nauseous and I’m tired and I’m hungry. And if I stay home all day that’s all I’m going to think about. I’m going to just sit and dwell on the fact that I am miserable.”

Luke’s face softens when he sees that you’re crying. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence lately, but he felt guilty for being the one to cause it this time around.

“C’mere,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

And even though you’re angry with him, you don’t hesitate before scooting up the mattress and sliding into his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder, Luke’s hand finding its way down to your lower back, where he rubs gentle circles into the sore muscles. Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

“I’m sorry you’re so uncomfortable, baby. I just- I worry about you. All I want is for you and the baby to be okay.”

You sniffle into his chest, his sweet words making your voice soften. “I can’t sit here all day, Luke. I really can’t.”

“I know.” He rests his cheek on top of your head and sighs. “How about we meet in the middle?”

Looking up at him, you skeptically ask, “How?”

“You could work the cases from the BAU,” he suggests.

You scrunch your nose, secretly hoping that his compromise meant just giving in to what you wanted entirely. But, as you think about it for a moment, you had to admit you didn’t completely hate the idea. Things were getting challenging in the field. And as much as you hated him for saying it, Luke was right- the bulletproof vests no longer fit you, and you couldn’t chase down any perps. You were relatively useless, at least physically, at this point.

“I’m sure Garcia would love an extra hand,” he adds.

“Fine,” you mutter quietly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a light peck against the top of your head.

But, as Luke would soon find, just because you agreed to be stationed at the BAU did not mean you weren’t going to complain about it.

The two of you walked, hand-in-hand, into the building the next morning. Emily had called, about fifteen minutes prior, to let you both know that you had a case in Boston.

“What if I just stay at the police precinct?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Why not? I could help Reid with the geological profile- or interview the families. There’s a lot I can do-”

“We already agreed that you’d stay here.”

You scoffed in frustration before trying another tactic.

“You know,” you drawled, using the hand he wasn’t already holding to reach around and grip his arm. “I’m worried about you, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you state, matter-of-factly. “Just because I’m carrying the baby doesn’t mean I’m the only one that needs to stay safe. It would be equally devastating if something happened to you. You let your hand trail down the length of his arm and over to your belly. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Luke swiped his ID badge to get inside the building before holding the door open for you, you hesitate, waiting for his response. Luke’s lips were parted into a soft grin. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel guilty, but that was really sweet.” He leans forward and pecks your lips lightly.

You roll your eyes and storm into the building.

…

“So I hear we’re going to be lab partners!” Garcia drums her fingers against the round table.

You shrug, “Looks like it.”

“I know you’re bummed to not be in the field, but I’m so excited that you’ll be here.”

Luke’s hand reaches for yours underneath the table. You let your fingers lace together with his before you smile back at Garcia. Maybe being sidelined wouldn’t be all bad. “I’m excited too, Pen,” you tell her.

“Alright guys listen up,” Emily enters the briefing room. “Police need our help in Boston. Two college students have gone missing the past month, and one of the bodies was just found dumped off of I-95. Y/N will be working the case from here, so we’ll be down a body in the field.”

Garcia hits a few buttons on the remote, making a gruesome image project onto the screen in front of the team. She presents a few more details about the case before Emily declares, “Wheels up in 20.”

Luke’s shifting through his go bag at his desk when you approach him from behind. You rest your hand on his back and rub up and down his soft, maroon shirt.

“Be safe, okay?” you tell him. You felt guilty knowing he was going into the field without you.

Luke sighs, turning his body so that he was facing you. His big hands rest on your hips as he holds you out in front of him. “You know I will.”

You nod, and you believed his words, but that didn’t mean you’d be any less worried about him while he was away.

Luke could sense the uneasiness on your face, so he leaned in and kissed your cheek lightly before whispering, “There is nothing that could ever keep me from coming back home to you and our baby, do you hear me?”

Leaning into his touch, you sigh. “Good. Because I meant what I said; I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“We’re going to miss you out there, kid.” Rossi states as he passes your desk.

“Keep me updated,” you respond sadly. He pats you on the shoulder before nodding with a smile.

With a final kiss and promises to call, Luke and the rest of the team load onto the jet to head for Boston.

At first, you stay in the bullpen seated at your desk, running through the casefile. You were the only one in the entire room. By habit, you kept looking up at Luke’s desk. Instead of his warm smile, you’re met by his empty chair. Your eyes linger for a moment before you feel a sharp pain shoot across your stomach, making you wince.

“Woah,” you whisper, your hand falling on your bump. “Was that a kick?” you ask her out loud.

It didn’t take long before the silence became deafening, so after a few minutes, you stand up and waddle down the hallway to Garcia’s leir. You knock at her door before entering.

“Hey,” you say, your hand supporting your sore back. “It’s like, creepy quiet out there, do you mind if I work with you, in here?”

Her face lights up. “Of course!” Immediately, she begins clearing off a space on her desk for you to set up.

“Thanks,” you smile, taking a seat in her spare office chair. You try your best to sit up straight as your insides begin to cramp. Garica turns to see your eyes squeezed shut.

“What’s wrong?” her voice is filled with concern.

“Nothing,” you sigh in relief when the cramp passes. “She’s kicking a lot today.”

Garcia’s face breaks out into a large grin. “Oh! My Goddaughter’s gonna be a spunky one, isn’t she?”

…

As it turned out, there wasn’t much for you to do from the BAU. Garcia worked tirelessly, delving into files and uncovering helpful information for the team. But you weren’t even close to being as tech savvy as her, and besides the casefile you’d already read through four times, you didn’t have many resources to work off of.

Whenever the team would call with questions, you’d listen intently, and try to figure out some way that you could help them. But, by that evening, you were starting to feel pretty useless.

“Why don’t you just head home?” Garcia suggested kindly. “You look tired.”

You were tired. You were tired and hungry and sore from all your baby’s kicking. But you shook your head. “I don’t want to be in the house alone,” you admit to her. “It’s too quiet there without Luke.”

Garcia, of course, understands. “Do you want to take a walk? Just around the building?”

At first, you want to say no. But as you consider her offer, you can’t help but admit that stretching your legs sounded pretty nice, so you agree.

“I think I’m most excited for coffee,” you tell Garcia. The two of you had walked the entire floor of the BAU a couple of times now and were about to head back to her office.

“God, I can’t even imagine going nine months without coffee. I think that would break me,” she admits.

You start to laugh, but you’re quickly interrupted by a sudden, sharp pain in your abdomen.

“Woah,” you gasp, grabbing your stomach. You hunch over, desperate to alleviate some of the pain, but it only grows with intensity. It takes your breath away for a moment, and all you can do is focus on the tiled floor beneath you as you attempt to muscle through it.

But then you feel something burst inside of you, followed by a warm liquid rushing down your leg.

With wide, terrified eyes, you look up to Garcia.

“Pen,” you whisper, barely recognizing your own voice. “I th-think my water just broke...”

“Oh my god,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Oh my god, okay, okay. You’re okay.”

She hurries to your side and wraps an arm around your waist. You and your shaky legs are grateful for her support. She guides you to a chair stationed in the hallway, where she helps you sit.

The panic really starts to set in once your eyes land on your dampened pants.

“No,” you start to shake your head rapidly. “Pen, no I can’t- it’s too early-”

You’re amazed by how calm Garcia remains. “It’s okay,” she tells you. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and everything’s gonna be fine.”

But you keep shaking your head. “No, she’s early. She’s too early- I need Luke, please- I can’t do this.”

“I’m gonna call Luke right now, everything’s going to be okay.”

Garcia pulls out her phone and dials your husband. She frowns when it goes to voicemail after a few rings.

By now, there’s a steady influx of tears spilling down your cheeks. You ask softly, “Why isn’t he answering?”

“Let me try Emily.”

You sigh a breath of relief when you hear Emily’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Emily-” Garcia gasps. “Where’s Luke?”

You overhear her, “He’s interrogating the Unsub- why? What’s the matter?”

“Y/N’s in labor, we need him.”

“Oh my god,” Emily says. There’s a brief pause before she tells Garcia, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pen-” you groan, another contraction washing over you. You hunch over in the chair and grab at the air, desperate for something to clamp down on.

She quickly extends her hand, letting you squeeze it tightly.

“Garcia?” you hear Luke’s sweet voice over the line. You want to call out for him, but you can’t form the words.

“Luke!” she exclaims, her concerned eyes never leaving you. “Luke, Y/N’s in labor- her water just broke. You have to come home.”

You gasp and bite down on your lip as the pain suddenly intensifies.

“Breathe,” she instructs you calmly. “Just breathe with me-”

“What?” you can hear the disbelief in his voice. “But- she’s only seven months pregnant- that's too early-”

The contraction passes, leaving you breathless, but you hold your hand out. Garcia picks up on your gesture and hands you the phone.

“Luke-” you’re on the verge of bursting into terrified tears. “I’m so scared.”

“Baby, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You can hear the worry in his voice as he soothes you. “I’m on my way, okay? I’m gonna take the jet, I’ll be there soon.”

“I don’t know if I can do this-”

“No, baby- of course you can, you’re so strong. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Please hurry,” you whimper.

“I will, I love you.”

You pass the phone to Garcia reluctantly. You wished you could stay on the line with him. Something about hearing his voice made you feel calmer.

You’re shaky and weak, but Garcia helps you all the way into the elevator and down into the parking garage. You hesitate before climbing into the front seat of her car.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her hand gently placed on your elbow.

“I don’t want to get your seat all gross-”

You’re referring to the amniotic sac fluid currently soaking your pants.

“Are you serious?” she asks in disbelief. “If we don’t hurry you’re going to be giving birth in my car, so I think I’ll take my chances with the water.”

You nod quickly and climb into the front seat. While Garcia hurries around to the front, you clutch onto your baby bump tightly, wondering why the hell she was coming so early.

Garcia winds through traffic hurriedly, every so often she glances in your direction, trying to make sure you’re okay. “I guess they weren’t kicks,” you groan, as another contraction washes over you. You grip the door handle until your knuckles turn white and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Keep breathing,” Garcia soothes. She lets you take her hand across the console and doesn’t even wince when you squish it tightly in yours.

“I’m really scared, Penelope,” you whimper quietly, falling back against the seat when the contraction passes.

“I know,” Garcia clicks her tongue empathetically.

“Nothing’s ready. Not her room- we haven’t even set up her crib yet I’m not ready. I was supposed to have another 6 weeks to get ready-”

But Penelope is shaking her head. “You, right now, as you are, are going to be a great mother, okay? You’re ready.”

She sounded so sure, so confident in you- maybe she was right.

…

“Where is he?”

You’re sweating, exposed in a delivery room, and in more pain than you ever have been in your entire life.

Garcia’s stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand and talking you through the pain. You’d been at the hospital about two hours now.

Currently, Garcia was dabbing your forehead with a wet washcloth. Your contractions were about 6 minutes apart. According to the doctor, you’d have to start pushing soon.

“I can’t do this without him. He should be here..”

“He’ll be here.”

You look up at her, exhausted and with fear in your eyes.

Garcia squeezes your shoulder. “And if he’s not here, then we’ll do this together, okay? You and me.”

“Promise you won’t leave?”

She nods. “I promise.”

…

Luke’s sprinting through the maze of a hospital trying desperately to find the delivery room number that Garcia texted him. He’s already been redirected by a couple of nurses, but every floor looked the same.

The door number came into sight when he turned the corner. He doesn’t hesitate before running the final distance between the two of you.

Luke swings the door open, only able to exhale when his eyes finally land on you.

You’re sitting up in your bed, hair tied up messily and cheeks flushed.

As soon as you see him, he sees your shoulder slump, like you’ve exhaled a breath of relief.

“Luke-”

His name is barely audible, but it’s enough.

“I’m here, baby,” he assures you, crossing the room in just two, large strides.

Garcia’s on the opposite side of your bed, clutching your hand tightly. After pressing his lips against your sweaty forehead, he looks at her and mouths, ‘thank you’.

She nods, “Of course, it was nothing.” She says it casually, like she didn’t just spend the last three hours comforting you through labor, doing his job for him, making sure you were safe.

It was everything.

Minutes after Luke arrives, the doctor tells you it’s time to push.

You flash Luke a scared glance, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, his lips feel comforting. “You can do this.”

You sigh, because like you said, being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

...

When her soft cries fill the air, you’re finally able to breathe again. You collapse back against your pillow, exhausted and sweaty.

Luke’s still cupping your hand in his, his much larger fingers wrapping themselves around your skin. He’s looking towards the doctor, who’s holding in his arms, your baby girl.

“Is she okay?” you ask weakly.

Luke nods. “She’s small, but she’s so beautiful.”

Because she’s premature, you’re not able to hold her right away. Instead, she’s bundled up and taken to the NICU.

“No-” you protest pathetically. “I want her with me-”

“I know,” Luke whispers. “But they gotta keep her warm. They’re gonna put her in an isolette. They said we can visit as soon as you’re ready.”

Without hesitating, you attempt to sit up in bed. “I’m ready,” you declare weakly.

Luke’s hand pushes against your shoulder lightly in protest. “No, baby. You need rest-”

You found yourself growing angrier and angrier. You wanted to see your baby- wanted to hold her. But your body betrays you. You’re just so exhausted that you can’t even fight against him. Instead, you fall back against the pillow and huff out a choppy, frustrated sob.

“I know,” he says. He sits on the edge of your bed and reaches his hand out to brush some of the loose strands of hair away from your face. He leans forward and presses his lips to your sweaty forehead. “You did so good.” He whispers against your skin. “So, so good.”

You close your eyes against his touch, letting it wash over you.

“How small is she?” you ask when he finally breaks away.

Luke’s lips pressed together in a thin line and he didn't answer immediately. After a moment he sighs. “She’s small.”

“She’s gonna be okay though, right?” You look to Luke for all the answers. And he wants to give them to you. He wants to give everything to you.

He nods. “She’s gonna be okay. She’s a fighter, like her mom.”

…

Your daughter has to stay in the NICU for two, agonizingly long weeks. After a couple of days, you start to get some energy back. But seeing her in that box, and not being able to hold your baby when you wanted was taking its toll emotionally.

You and Luke stayed at the hospital for the entirety of the two weeks, never wanting to leave her alone.

It was painful and hard and exhausting, but together, it almost seemed bearable.

The team visited in shifts. Garcia arrived first with a giant bundle of pink balloons. Spencer and JJ brought magazines and books to keep you busy. Tara has a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Matt and Kristy brought you clothes to change into. Rossi and Emily brought various dishes for the two of you to eat. By the end of your two weeks, you felt incredibly grateful for your BAU family.

On the day that you and Luke were finally given the okay to take your daughter home, you found your nerves inching their way back into the forefront of your mind. It was an absolute relief that your premature daughter turned out to be healthy and safe and as beautiful as ever. But you thought about the unfinished room at home and your stomach twisted into knots.

“Where are we gonna put her?” you asked, imagining the crib you’d bought and never put together.

“I’ll put it together when we get home,” Luke assures you. “Can’t be that hard.”

You nodded, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter. Not when you had this miracle of a baby in your arms.

When Luke pulled the car into the driveway of your house, you both stared at your home, hesitating before getting out of the car, as if it was just now hitting you how much everything was about to change.

Luke gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ready?” he asked.

You nod, everything was changing for the better. “Ready.”

You keep her cradled to your chest as you make your way through your home. The first order of business for Luke was to put together the crib, so your daughter would at least have a place to sleep.

You’d worry about the rest later.

But when you climb the stairs, you’re startled to see Garcia standing in your hallway, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Pen, hi,” you smile. You’d given her a key to take care of Roxy and water your plants while you were away at the hospital, you assume that was what she was here for.

“Hi,” she smiles wide. “Oh my goodness, is that my little bundle of joy! Let me see!”

You pass Penelope your daughter, watching adoringly as the two interact.

“Is someone else here?” Luke asks, peering down the hall when he hears voices.

Garcia nods, her signature, ear to ear smile spreading across her face. “Yeah, actually we have a surprise for you guys.” She passes your daughter back to you before turning.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Luke asks skeptically.

“Oh, just shut up and follow me,” she says. Her heels click as she walks down the hall towards the bedrooms.

When you turn the corner into your daughter's room, you can’t help but let out a loud gasp. Your jaw practically falls to the floor, surprised to see the entire team piled inside.

Two walls of the room were painted a beautiful shade of pink, while the other two were a soft gray. There were various decoratives hanging on the walls, tying everything together perfectly. There were also numerous shelves filled with an assortment of stuffed animals, toys, and books. And in the corner stood the hardwood crib that Luke and you had bought, completely put together and accented with a beautiful mobile hanging above it.

“Oh my god,” Luke gawks, clearly just as surprised as you.

“You guys-” you start, but you before you can finish your sentence you start to cry. “You guys did all this?”

The smiling faces of the rest of your team answer your question.

“How?” Is all you can manage to say.

“Well, I picked out the colors and the decor,” Garcia says, like it’s obvious. “Emily and Tara both helped paint.”

“And I've put my fair share of cribs together,” Matt chuckles, patting the edge of the darkwood. “It took no time at all.”

“JJ and Spencer got together the books and the stuffed animals,” Garcia motions towards the corner of toys.

“And I supervised,” Rossi smirked, making everyone laugh.

“Guys, this is too much.” Luke shakes his head in disbelief before exhaling and saying sincerely, “thank you.”

You nod in agreement. “This is… amazing. This is more than I could have ever dreamed of. I love it. She’s gonna love it,” you motion towards your now sleeping baby, mouth open and drooling on your chest.

The team knows how exhausted you and Luke are from being at the hospital for the past two weeks, so they don’t stay long. Slowly, they begin filing out of your house, offering both you and the new BAU baby with hugs and kisses goodbye.

Garcia’s the last to leave as she gathers her coat from your entryway chair.

“Pen, I know this was your idea,” you mumble. “You didn’t have to do all this. Thank you.”

She shakes her head, her eyes rolling as she hugs you gently. When she pulls away, she smirks, “If you thought I was going to let my Goddaughter come home to an unfinished room, you are underestimating how much I am going to spoil her.”

With that, she's out the door, leaving you and Luke and your newborn baby alone in the house for the first time as a family of three. Luke wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side securely. You sigh, all of your anxiety and fears melting away. Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

723 notes · View notes