#and she really has a big forehead under that protector and it makes me so proud! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mummybear · 3 years

Text

Finally, I’ve Found You.

Words: 4938

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, ABO, Protective Sam, Possessive Dean, Claiming, Scenting, Dirty Talk, Orgasm Control, Hair Pulling, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, knotting....Think that’s it :)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Bingo Square: @spnkinkbingo - Free Space - ABO Soul Mates

Summary: When your protective Alpha best friend takes you to meet his family, things don’t go quite to plan. You end up finding something, or someone, you’ve been looking for your whole life.

Beta: @negans-lucille-tblr Thank you again babe! :D

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Being an Omega in this part of the world was nothing short of a nightmare - Omegas were treated as slaves and fuck toys for Alphas. When your parents had died, you were even more scared than ever before. Being left alone in this world was terrifying, you hadn’t told anyone, not until you’d met Sam Winchester. He was an Alpha through and through,” - at least, that’s what he let the outside world believe. To you he was your best friend, and your protector. He was a complete sweetheart, even when you knew it was hard for him not to give into his nature.

The most that he ever did was snap at you, but that was only when his rut hit particularly hard or your heat or his rut started before either of you were ready. Even then though, he would lock himself away, or he would lock you away and keep you safe, until those days passed. You wanted to want Sam in that way, and you knew he felt the same, but neither of you had ever been able to bring yourselves to do anything.

There were times you’d talked about it at length; the possibility of you being his, but you’d always come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t right, for either of you, and it wouldn’t be fair. You were worried though, because if Sam wasn’t supposed to be yours, then who was? And were they even half as sweet, hot and caring as your best friend? You only knew what you’d been told by your other Omega friends, once you found your mate, you would just know.

“You ready to go?” Sam asks as he walks into your room, with a big excited grin on his face.

“Sam, are you sure about this?” you sigh as you finish zipping up your suitcase for the weekend.

“Y/N, trust me! My family are going to love you.”

“You know I trust you, more than anyone on the planet, but I don’t know if It’s such a good idea. I’m not exactly special, I’m just like any other Omega,” you sigh as he takes the suitcase from your grip, and you hear him huff quietly.

“I’ve told you before, that isn’t how any of my family see it. Besides, you’re my best friend, they know how much you’ve been there for me. Even if you are a giant pain my ass. Now come on, stop complaining,” he winks at you over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and follow him out of the door.

“Fine, but you better not leave me on my own,” you huff out, locking the door behind you.

Luckily the drive doesn’t take as long as you thought it might, and all too soon you’re pulling up to a gorgeous home, with perfectly kept lawn and two classic cars in the driveway. You wring your hands in your lap, feeling the nerves creeping up on you even more than you’d expected. You can feel the need to be sick pressing against the back of your throat. Sam must notice because seconds later you feel a big hand on top of both of yours, and you feel a slight sense of calm start to settle over you.

“Sam, I told you not to use those Alpha powers of yours on me,” you laugh slightly, feeling grateful that he doesn’t always listen to you.

“Y/N, you’re shaking and you’re breathing too hard. I don’t want you passing out on me, just breathe,” he smiles gently, the complete picture of calm, as always.

It takes a few moments, but you finally manage to get your breathing under control, and your heart stops racing.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t think that’s ever happened before,” you swallow thickly, climbing out of the car and following Sam as he pulls your suitcases out.

Sam looks you over and frowns, “now you mention it, I’ve never seen you like this. Did we work out the days wrong? Is your heat due or something?”

You think on it for a moment as Sam leads you to his parents house, and over to the front door.

“I, uh, no. I only had one a two weeks ago. You know I only have one a month, it can’t be that.”

Before Sam can respond the door is pulled open, and a grinning couple fill the doorway.

“Sam! It’s great to see you son.” The older man steps forward and embraces Sam in a tight hug, that Sam returns with a big grin. Before turning to the older woman and doing the same. It’s clear to see they’re his mom and dad. The family resemblance is beyond obvious.

“Mom, dad, this is Y/N. Y/N this is my mom and dad, Mary and John Winchester,” Sam introduces fondly.

“Great to finally meet you, Y/N! Sam has told us all about you,” John smiles warmly, giving you a quick hug which you return nervously.

“We really have heard so much about you, thank you so much for looking after our baby,” Mary grins, and pulls you into another hug.

“Now, come on inside you two,” Mary tells you both, moving aside so you can follow Sam into the house.

“Sammy!” You hear from down the hall, and you follow Sam further into the house, watching as Sam is embraced by a slightly shorter man with sandy hair. You smile at the display of affection. it’s so nice to see Sam surrounded by family, he’d always spoken about them, and you’re guessing this must be the brother he’d told you countless stories about, Dean.

Suddenly Dean looks up and his eyes lock with yours over Sam’s shoulder, you feel like a rug has been pulled from under your feet and you stumble back a little. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and you swallow thickly around the lump that’s lodged in your throat. You bite your lip as his nostrils flair and feel yours do the same as his scent hits you, and it’s like you can see his eyes darken before you.

Your words are stuck in your throat, until Mary comes to your side and wraps her arms around you, “Y/N? Are you feeling okay, sweetie. Do you need to sit down?”

Her voice sounds a little distant, like you have cotton wool lodged in your ears, but you hear her faintly all the same.

“Yes, please. Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” you all but whisper, tearing your gaze away from Dean, as Sam pulls away from him to come and stand by your side.

Mary and Sam lead you into the living room and help you get settled on the sofa.

“Are you okay?” Mary checks again, as she sends Sam away to help his father outside with the grill.

“Y-Yeah, I think so. I think I just need a minute, long drive,” you explain as you try and reassure her, and she nods in understanding.

“Okay honey, if you need anything we’ll just be outside okay?”

“Thank you, Mrs Winchester,” you sigh, leaning back against the soft sofa, and you let your eyes close for a moment. You feel her squeeze your hand and the sofa dips as she steps away.

You suck in a deep breath and your eyes snap open, as an unusual but tantalising mix of scents fill your nose. It’s like leather, spice, oil and something you don’t quite recognise. Then your gaze falls on the door you’d come through earlier, and on him.

You sit a little straighter and shift awkwardly in your seat.

“Hi, you must be, Dean. I’m Y/N,” you practically whisper as he walks further into the room.

He looks you up and down and licks his lips, his gaze heated, like he can see through your clothes and it makes you shiver.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” his voice is almost a growl as he talks, and he takes the seat right next to you, holding out his hand for you to shake.

You take his hand and your eyes lock with his, a complete calmness settles over you and you can feel yourself leaning into him. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he repositions his hand, so that his fingers are moving between yours, intertwining your hand with his own.

“Alpha,” you whimper leaning in closer, following his lead, until his forehead is pressed against yours.

“Omega,” he practically growls, scooting his body closer to you and breathing deeply, as his free arm curls around your waist tightly, almost possessively.

“There’s something about you… I don’t understand. I’ve never felt anything like this before,” you mutter, almost disbelieving, like if you say it too loud he’ll disappear.

“Neither have I, but I can smell it. I know you’re mine.”

He says it with such finality, and you want to believe him because, fuck, he’s perfect. Gorgeous, strong, great family. But beyond that you don’t know anything about him, you’ve literally just met, but something tells you that you can trust him, that he’s right, and you are his and he’s yours.

“B-But we’ve just met, Dean,” you stutter, as the hand gripping your waist slips just beneath your t-shirt and brushes your skin.

“Don’t care. You’re mine, I know you are. I can feel it, I can smell it, and I know you can too,” he growls as your free hand rests on his thigh to steady yourself.

“I can feel it, in every bone in my body, Dean. But we can’t,” you protest weakly, trying to pull away, but he holds your body tight against his.

He pulls back and looks at your face, “Is it Sam?” he huffs, and you can hear the unease in his voice, you can tell he’s forcing down a possessive growl.

“Why would it be anything to do with Sam? He’s my best friend, and that’s it. We both feel the same,” you sigh as he pulls away further, and you groan as your stomach rolls painfully.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ll let you rest, just pretend this never happened, okay?” he grits out, voice shaking as he backs away slowly.

“No, Dean, don’t. I didn’t mean you had to go!” you call after him, but before you can get up he’s already left, and you hear the back door slam closed.

Dinner had been really great, full of great conversation and stories of Sam and Dean when they were younger, not to mention the amazing food. It only made you more confused as to why Sam never cooked more often at home. But after ten minutes, something had changed with Dean, and he’d gone to eat in his room, claiming that he had to make a call for work.

You’re all now sitting in the living room, while Mary shows you photos of Sam and Dean when they were babies. When suddenly a wave of pain hits you from nowhere, and you grip Sam’s arm tightly.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he asks immediately, and he looks really worried as he takes you in.

“No. Something’s wrong,” you whimper, wiping at your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand. Sam carefully helps you to your feet and you cling onto him tightly.

“Mine.” Comes a growl from the doorway, snapping everyone's attention away from you and towards Dean.

“Dean? What the hell do you mean ‘Mine’?” Sam questions defensively, putting himself between you and his brother, pushing your body behind him.

“Alpha,” you whine, reaching for Dean, and Sam has to hold you tighter against his side, so you don’t fall to the floor.

Everyone seems to be looking between you and Dean, before John groans quietly, “Fuck, I shoulda noticed earlier. Sammy you need to let her go, son,” he tells his youngest son gently, as he walks towards you and Sam.

Sam looks at his father as though he’s gone mad and holds you tighter.

“No way, clearly Dean’s lost his damn mind, he’s not going anywhere near her. I’ve kept her safe for years, but I didn’t think I’d have to protect her from my own family.”

Your eyes lock with Dean’s and you whimper as he starts to walk towards you, feeling the slick gathering between your thighs.

“Sam. Listen to me, Dean must be her mate. You said yourself that Y/N isn’t due a heat, right?” John asks calmly, stepping between his boys.

“Not for another two weeks, why? What the hell does that have to do with anything?!” Sam exclaims with disbelief.

“Well, your brother has literally just had his rut. So by rights, he was safe, unless…” John trails off, maybe hoping Sam is understanding.

“Sam, please. I need him,” you moan pathetically, as John growls at his eldest son warning him to step back, in an effort to calm the situation down.

“It must be another heat, Y/N, it’s the only explanation. You’re not thinking clearly-” you unintentionally cut Sam off, when a scream rips through your throat and you double over in pain, with Sam’s arms the only thing stopping you from hitting the floor.

Dean whimpers and looks around his father, locking eyes with his brother, looking like a scared puppy.

“Sammy, please. Let me help her,” Dean groans, running his fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

“No. I’m the one who looks after her, not you,” Sam growls defensively.

You’re starting to lose consciousness, and your eyes are heavy, sweat dripping from your forehead. You’ve never felt anything this intense in your entire life. Suddenly a smaller pair of arms wrap around you and help you sit back on the sofa, you look up at Mary, and she’s barely in focus.

“Honey, I need you to focus, look at me okay.”

“Can’t, Mary. I’m so tired,” you slur, feeling the sofa dip the other side of you.

“Doll, listen to me, you can’t fall asleep, you’re burning up.” Comes John’s deep voice from your other side, and you lean into him when he presses a cool rag against your forehead.

“‘mega, tell me what you need, let me help,” Dean whispers, carefully cupping your cheeks in his big warm hands. You force your eyes open, and you can see the pain in his eyes, and the tick in his jaw as though he’s clenching his teeth.

“Alpha, please. Need you, don’t go,” you beg desperately, reaching out and grabbing his shirt in your fists. Dean’s hands cover yours and he tries to hush you gently, and you notice that you’re both alone in the room now. Your legs are still like jelly, so when you try and stand you practically collapse into Dean’s arms.

You nuzzle at his neck and purr as his scent surrounds you, feeling your vision clear slightly as your lips press against his skin.

“Not here,” Dean growls, his voice deep, husky and thick with need as he scoops you up into his arms and carries you bridal style, putting a stop to your attempt to push his shirt from his shoulders.

You clench your thighs together as another wave of arousal grips you, and you feel Dean’s fingers tighten against your body as he carries you up the stairs. When you reach the second door on the left, Dean walks inside and then kicks the door closed behind him. He heads over to the large bed and lays you down carefully, before sitting down beside you, and brushing the sweat soaked hair away from your face. The familiar feeling of your heat coursing through your body is even stronger than it’s ever been before, and you can feel yourself curling around Dean as soon as he lays down beside you.

“It hurts, Dean,” you whimper, hooking one of your legs over his body as he wraps his arms around you and you find yourself rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to find some kind of release.

“Shh, sweetheart, just breathe. You’re makin’ it real hard to be a gentleman right now,” his voice is practically a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite your lip as you look up at him, “I don’t want a gentleman, I want my Alpha. I want you.”

Dean’s arms tighten around you and you feel the growl in his throat right before you hear it, “Fuck you smell good ‘mega. I could smell you as soon as you walked through that door. Haven't stopped thinking about it since I first laid eyes on you.”

“I don’t understand how this all happened so fast, but I know you’re my Alpha, I can feel it,” you whisper as he cups your cheek and you feel relief flood your body when he pulls you into a kiss.

The kiss starts off careful and slow but quickly becomes more passionate, he gently pushes your hands back against the mattress, and you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from touching him.

“Stay there, baby, let your Alpha make it better,” he whispers against your lips between intense kisses that seem to be turning your body to liquid. Dean’s hands are exploring every inch of you, his touch is firm and a little rough, but it’s just what you need right now. You can’t help but moan into his mouth when he starts tugging at your clothes.

When he pulls away from your lips to look into your eyes, you gasp for breath, quickly realising only your panties remain. Dean hums in approval, cupping your breasts in his big hands and he gently flicks over your nipples with his thumbs, biting his lip as he watches your face for a reaction. You arch into his touch, desperate to feel more of him.

“Oh God, fuck,” you whine needily as Dean runs his fingers over your soaked panties.

Dean chuckles deeply, breath hot against your soft skin, and you shiver as he nips at your neck, “you want me to bite down just here,” he nips a little harder for emphasis, and you can’t help but moan as you struggle to nod. You arch your hips and moan his name as he pushes your panties aside, and he eases two thick calloused fingers inside your soaked entrance, slowly edging back and forth until they’re fully inside you.

“Mmm, of course you do, my needy little Omega. You want me to claim what’s mine? Want me to fuck you until you can’t see straight, and you’re coming all over my knot?” You can tell his instincts are taking over, his voice is deeper, and his touch is almost bruising, but in the best way.

Dean rips your panties away from your body with his free hand. You barely even feel the sting of them ripping, only the slight pressure on your clit as he pulls them up and off of you. Then he leans over you, and he starts to curl his fingers inside you, pressing his free hand to your stomach so everything intensifies as he picks up a steady pace. Then his hand shifts and his thumb presses against your clit, your hands immediately reach out, and you grab hold of the first thing you can. Your nails dig into his biceps as you hold on tight, feeling the muscle bulge and relax as he pushes towards release, the look in his eyes makes you want to give in to whatever he says.

There's just something about him being fully clothed and fully in control, while you’re naked and at his mercy that makes the Omega in you purr appreciatively.

Your stomach tightens and your pussy flutters around his fingers as he pushes you towards your first orgasm. You’re breathing heavy and writhing beneath him when suddenly he pulls his fingers free, and your body slumps against the bed, with a sheen of sweat coating your skin. You whimper as you look up at him, wishing you felt a little less pathetic, because you would kick his ass if he was one of the Beta’s you’d slept with before. But this is an Alpha - your Alpha.

Dean chuckles, leaning back as he starts to pull off his clothes, and you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Oh my beautiful Omega, don’t make all of those pretty little noises right now. I promise I’ll make it better. But the first time you come for me I want it to be with my cock inside you, stretching out this tight little cunt.” You moan at his filthy words as he throws his shirt across the room, he’s perfect, and you can’t stop staring, unable to believe how lucky you are.

“Please, Alpha. I need to come so bad, wanna feel your knot.” The desperation in your voice is clear as you cling to the sweat soaked duvet under you.

His eyes lock with yours as a filthy and cocky smirk curls at his lips. You watch with bated breath as he pulls off his jeans and boxers, and his thick cock is freed from its confines.

“Hmm, am I your first Alpha, sweetheart? Your only Alpha? Is this the first knot you’re gonna take in that perfect little pussy?” Dean sounds far too pleased with himself as he asks those questions, but in the moment they only make you squirm more.

He strokes his cock slowly in one hand as he pushes his other hand between your legs, and his thumb circles your clit torturously slow. You don’t want to stop looking at him, but your entire body is shaking with need. You clench your thighs around his hand, trying your best to stave off your orgasm.

“Dean, please. I can’t hold it,” you whine desperately.

To your relief his hand falls away, and you suck in a breath, feeling the heat of his body pressed against you forces you to open your eyes.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, voice husky and thick with need, and you feel the wide head of his cock pressing against your wet entrance.

You can feel his thighs quivering against your own, it’s pretty obvious he’s holding himself back. You meet his eyes and swallow hard, knowing that you couldn’t go back now, even if you wanted to. You need him, you can feel it deep down.

“Don’t you want me on my hands and knees, Alpha?” you ask, voice breathy, and you shiver feeling his fingers digging into your thighs.

“I’m trying to take it easy on you here, ‘mega, don’t push me,” his voice has lowered to a growl, and you know you’re poking the bear, but you can’t seem to stop yourself, you need him to lose control.

You slowly drag your hand down his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch, and you hear him suck in a breath when your hand wraps around his thick length.

“I can take it, Alpha, want you to fuck me like you mean it.” Dean grunts as your hand moves over him and you turn your head to the side, showing him your perfectly clear skin, free of any scars and stroke your fingers down the side.

“When you claim me, right here-” you don’t get time to finish your sentence, because Dean has pulled out of your grip and his rough hands flip you over and force you on your stomach.

You barely have time to suck in a breath before he’s hauling you up by your hips. Dean spreads your legs and the head of his wide cock presses inside you slowly, but then his hips snap forward, and you scream in pleasure as you lose your balance. Your fingers curl around your pillow and your back arches painfully, as he pulls out almost all of the way and snaps his hips forward again. The grip on your hips tightens, to the point you’re sure there will be bruises left behind.

“How’s that, my needy little Omega?” he growls, wrapping his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back harshly. You can’t speak, you can hardly breathe.

“Ah fuck! Dean, please let me come!” you scream feeling your pussy spasm around his cock when he picks up a steady rhythm, deep and slow, and so hard you feel like your body is going to snap in half.

“Wait. I decide where I claim you, is that fucking clear?” he growls snapping his hips forward roughly.

“Fuck! Yes. Whatever you want, Alpha,” you whine obediently, impossibly close to the edge of a mind shattering orgasm. But even your body is refusing to disobey your Alpha.

“Mmm, good girl. C’mere,” he pants, tugging you back against him by your hair and nuzzling your neck. You don’t struggle, in fact, you find yourself relaxing against him.

“You wanna come all over my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Please, Dean, I need it,” you whine breathlessly, feeling his free hand roam your body slowly, as he cock continues to thrust into you teasingly.

“Then play with your clit while I fuck you. I wanna watch you fall apart, my desperate little ‘mega.”

The sheets are soaked beneath you both, his rut and your heat are in full effect now, and you know you’d do anything he asked.

You drop your shaking hand between your legs and start to rub circles into your clit, feeling your pussy clamp down around his throbbing cock. You cry out when Dean starts to pick up his pace, his thrusts are precise, rubbing perfectly against your g-spot.

“Ah! Alpha, right there!” you practically scream as he roughly tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side, exposing your neck and you feel his teeth gently tug at your skin.

The threat of him claiming you is enough to send you hurtling into the most powerful orgasm of your life. Your body shakes in his arms as he continues to fuck into you, your tight wet heat gripping him like a vice. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Dean’s wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you pinned against him because you’ve gone limp in his arms.

“So sexy when you come ‘mega, such a perfect little pussy. You want it, baby girl? You want me to make you mine?” he grits out breathlessly. Your head is swimming as you feel another orgasm burning in your stomach, but his words are enough to make you moan in agreement. Dean chuckles, pushing the sweat soaked hair over one of your shoulders, “c’mon, ‘mega, need to hear you say it.”

You tilt your head to the side again and feel his tongue against your skin, “take me, claim me, Alpha. Wanna be yours.”

“Oh fuck,” he moans sucking hard at your neck, “gonna make me come ‘mega, gonna fill you up,” his voice is a broken rasp as he fucks up into you, his pace brutal.

He lets out an animalistic growl when his own release finally hits, and sinks his teeth into your neck, then you feel his knot swell inside you. His knot catches against your entrance as his cock pulses inside you, pulling another scream from you as your second orgasm shoots through your entire body. Gasping, you both crash down onto the mattress, with Dean’s body wrapped around you.

Your bodies shake against one another as Dean pulls his teeth carefully from your neck, and licks softly at his claim mark. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you take a deep shaky breath, as a feeling of being complete finally settles over you.

Dean presses kisses along your shoulder and brushes his fingers through your damp hair.

“Remind me to buy Sammy a house for bringing you to dinner,” Dean chuckles, his voice hoarse from your time together.

You giggle and lace your fingers with his, his hand feels so big against yours but it feels right.

“Just a house, huh?” you tease playfully.

He presses a soft kiss to your claim mark and he drags his teeth over your ear lobe, “mmm you’re right, maybe a mansion,” he whispers, every word punctuated with a soft kiss and roaming hands. You can’t help but be a little nervous, this is all so sudden. What if he changes his mind about you?

His cock slips free suddenly as his knot retracts, and he turns you in his arms, so that you’re facing him. The soft smile on his face is completely disarming, and you can’t help but smile back.

“I can practically hear you thinkin’, ‘mega. I promise we’re gonna figure all of this out.”

You sigh softly and lean in, kissing him for the first time in what feels like forever. When you pull away his intense green eyes meet yours.

“It doesn’t make any sense, but I trust you, Dean. You and me, it just feels right,” you tell him, and the emotion you’re feeling causes your voice to catch a little.

“That’s because it is. So, what do you say we get ourselves ready and go down to see everyone?, I think we have a little explaining to do, my beautiful Omega,” he whispers tenderly, cupping your cheek and presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

“Probably a good idea, Alpha,” you agree, feeling a blush come to your cheeks as your fingers graze over the claim mark on your neck. You weren’t expecting your life to change so drastically in a day, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he��s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough.

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him.

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says.

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above.

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt.

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong.

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much.

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start.

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt.

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow.

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #tim i know you read fanfic you can HAVE this one so we can get a recovery arc #i don't even need credit just DO IT #ficcery

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spideyspeaches · 3 years

Text

Sweet child ‘o mine ↬ a.r

sweet smily babie

A/N: Requests are open btw! I love writing Arvin and I don’t have any arvin requests so you can request for arvin btw :)

Request by @kelieah : okay okay. let's get to it hehe. arvin right? oh my god you should write a dad!arvin 🥺🥺🥺 and reader is pregnant but he's like super protective and lowkey a wreck bc he doesn't know what he's doing? and reader is probably really close to popping the baby? up to you, can't wait to see what you write! :)

Kk so I went a little overboard with the fluff XD

WC: 1.3k+

Pairing: Dad!Arvin Russell x Pregnant!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Arvin was a protector by nature. He protected all the people he loved, whether it be his late sister, or his girlfriend, now wife and a mother of two. Before you had your first child, Arvin would constantly hover around you till it annoyed you to the point where you would sleep in a separate room.

("Hun don't lift those! You'll hurt the baby!" Arvin shrieked, rushing towards you as you held the shopping bag in your hand with an amused and angry expression.

You were nearly six weeks pregnant, nowhere near your due date, and yet here you were.

"Arvin, this is one single shopping bag."

"Yes but you shouldn't! I saw what happened to the neighbour's wife when she tried to lift 'er bed!"

"Arvin…" you said, tapping your foot impatiently, dropping the shopping bag near your couch.

He was looking at you with a worried expression. You didn't give him time to answer, instead pulling him for a deep kiss.

And what if you were with a child? You were still horny and he was right there looking like a snack.)

You found the protectiveness endearing, especially watching his gruff exterior cut through like a knife. But you were pregnant and you were grumpy, sick of his overbearing attitude and had finally asked him to leave you alone for two seconds, maybe have a cigarette or two. The poor guy had looked heartbroken that day, just enough for guilt to brew in your heart, but you stood your ground.

That day also happened to be the day your first child, Willy, was born. You had convinced yourself that you would never witness such a site as of your husband holding your firstborn with utmost care and love radiating through his every pore, bobbing the baby’s little head as he hummed some lullaby, his soft voice lulling your tired form to sleep.

“Mummy why is daddy walkin’ like that?” Your four year old son asked, looking at you with his daddy’s big doe eyes, making you coo at his adorable expression.

You were sitting on the couch, nine months with your second child, way past your due date as your son sat besides you, a hand on your rounded belly, smoothing down your dress and “talking” to his brother. You found it cute, already feeling the love the little child was going to get from the second smallest member of the Russell family.

You watched in amusement as Arvin paced the hallway, burning a hole in the rugs as he ran a hand through his hair, messing them up as he cursed softly. He had been like that from the day your second child was about to arrive, only for them to want to stay a little longer in your belly.

"Honey you're gonna bear a hole in there." You said, burrowing your brows as he looked at you. He was a wreck, you could see it in how he tried to work two jobs, only to meet you when you were back in bed.

“Daddy’s a little tense right now hun, he’s… he’s worried why the baby hasn’t come to us yet.” You said, caressing Willy’s head as he snuggled next to you, nodding with a faux serious expression.

“Maybe the babe feels safer in your belly moma, it must feel very much loved.” He said with a toothy grin, bumping his nose to your bump as you laughed, hugging your little boy closer to you, tickling his sides, He shrieked with laughter as you bent down as much as you could to kiss his forehead.

“Well the little bugger has been kicking moma for a while now, I think he really wants to come, just findin’ it a wee difficult.” You said, hissing as you felt another kick under your ribs. Massaging the area just like the way your midwife had told you to. You sent your son a wink, hoping that he wouldn’t get too scared at your state. He, like his father, was also very protective of you and the baby.

Hissing at another contraction, you tried to do your breathing exercise, groaning at the pain you felt.

“Daddy! Daddy moma is hurt!” Willy shouted, getting off the couch and running off to where Arvin had been pacing the room.

“No no no hun! Moma is alright, just a little- oh oh Arvin!” You groaned, stretching your husband's name at a painful contraction as you watch him frantically run towards you, stumbling at the carpet and falling on his knees in front of you.

“Hun? Baby speak to me, how far apart are the pains? Do you think it’s time? Should I-”

“Arvin?” You winced, holding your belly.

“Yes honey?”

“Shut the fuck up and do me a favour, get the bag ready will ya?” You said, clenching your jaw as tightly as you could without breaking your teeth, immediately feeling guilty at his crestfallen expression. He was only trying to help you.

“Yes, yes sweetheart, I'll be right back.” He said, scramming to go to your room to get the bag. You knew he had already packed it, unpacked and repacked it multiple times to keep his mind of the calendar.

“Moma? Are you hurtin’?” You son asked, hearing a sniff. You sighed as you saw tears form in his eyes, running your hands through his hair as he sniffed loudly.

“No bun, it’s nothing bad, moma’s fine. I swear.”

“But you’re crying!” He cried out, launching himself on your chest. You sat down with a “oof”, the weight of your son sending you on your back sprawling on the couch.

“Willy! Be careful!” Arvin shouted, pulling your crying son off of you and palming his head as he buried his face into his father’s shoulder, wrapping his little arms around his neck as Arvin cooed at him, trying to shush his muffled cries.

“It’s gonna be alright bubby, I’m not crying anymore, see?” You gritted, groaning loudly when you felt one resonate to your back, a pop sound startling you enough to widen your eyes.

A breath later, the only thing you could hear was your son’s sniffs and your breathing, the wetness between your thighs amplifying as you gave a loud groan, groping for your husband’s biceps, “It’s happening!”

“Oh- oh fuck shit, sorry hun, Willy, do daddy a favor and open the car will you? We need to take moma to the hospital.” Arvin instructed your son, who obediently nodded, a determined expression taking over his adorable face as he ran outside.

“Arvin!”

“Comin’ sweetheart, just a minute!” He grunted, positioning himself by your side, sliding his one hand under your knees and another at your back, You shrieked as he carried you bridal style, your son holding the door open for you.

You would have called the ride torturous had you not heard the shrill cries of your newborn, squishy wet cheeks and scrunched eyes fitted in the palm of your hands a few hours later. Laughing near hysterically, you gently rocked the newly swaddled baby boy in your arms, looking at your husband’s shiny eyes as he carefully touched the baby’s forehead.

“He’s so tiny.” Arvin whispered, rubbing his thumb on the soft skin, watching in awe as the baby yawned, the little eyes scrunching up as they slowly opened, adjusting around the world in a newfound wonder.

“He’s perfect.” You smiled, seeing your four year old hiding behind Arvin’s legs, watching you unsure of himself, “Come here bun, want to hold your brother?”

“I can hold him?” He asked, peaking at you through his eyelashes.

“Of course you can son.” Arvin chuckled, lifting the toddler as he sat on your bed, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Here, hold his head, careful." You whispered, holding one hand on your older son's hands, guiding him to hold his little brother as he looked at the baby in wonder.

"He's tiny!" Willy said, mimicking you when he saw you holding the baby.

"You were this tiny too once, son." Arvin said, smiling at you and Willy.

"No way! I'm a big boy." Willy argued, pouting, which made you and your husband laugh.

"Whatever you say baby."

#arvin russel x reader #arvin russell smut #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russell #dad!arvin russell x reader #dad!arvin russell #arvin russel fluff #arvin russel x you #the devil all the time #spideygirl writes #queue tea

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honeyhenry · 3 years

Text

Sweet as Pie

With some much needed time off, and excitement crisp in the air, you had flown over to Jersey with your husband Henry for Christmas to stay with his family, and they had been delighted to have you both back on his homeland. You settled in to Henry’s old room, unpacking all of the gifts you had brought for his family. You knew his nieces and nephews were going to love you even more when they saw what would be lying for them under the grand Christmas tree in the living room. Secretly, you were their favourite - not that they’d ever tell their poor Uncle Henry.

The large home is tidy, but scattered with family members in every room, all feeling at home in the place where Henry and his brothers grew up. You’d been able to catch up with the relatives you didn’t often see, and promise to spend some quality time together over the holidays.

It was so sweet to watch all the children’s faces light up on Christmas morning. You were glad that you and Henry could be spared an extra few moments in bed, being the only childless couple in the house. Yet moments later, Kal had leapt onto the bed - much to Henry’s annoyance; “down Kal, careful now” - as soon as he had heard the pattering of his small friends’ feet out in the hallways. And what Kal wanted, you usually gave him.

Which is why, at 6.45am, Kal dragged you and in turn, dragged Henry down to the living room where the rest of the family sat, with the kids lit up like the Christmas tree that their plethora of presents laid under, grinning to their bleary eyed parents who’d barely had a wink of sleep on the cold winter morning.

“You’d think after 6 years it gets easier” you’d heard someone murmur, and so you’d decided to put the kettle on for those poor souls. Luckily for you, 45 minutes later, you’re able to snuggle back into bed with Henry, warming your feet on his legs to annoy him. You kiss the offended pout right off his face, before feeling his beefy arms wrap around your waist. It’s the last thing you had recalled, as you dozed off in his arms only seconds later, feeling his fingertips rub against your hip softly.

------

The kitchen was bustling with about 10 bodies all completing their various tasks; cooking, washing, baking, roasting, timing and tasting. Well, you had kicked your husband out of the kitchen for sneaking a taste of your dessert before it was ready, chastising him out of the door.

“You can either help properly or go and play with your siblings” you had bargained while he’d grinned, leaning against the doorframe. He raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down like you were a pastry he was keen to ravish himself; “But who is going to compliment the chef?”

With that, you’d folded your arms across your chest, blushing at his words. The cheek of that man was not lost on you, and it still got you every single time.

And you loved him for it.

------

The meal was a total success. A wonderful soup starter, followed by a small appetiser, and then the most magnificent turkey. Feeding over 20 people - now probably closer to 30 if you were to include the children who were growing up so quickly in front of your eyes - had proven to be difficult, but it was a challenge the family had clearly tackled before.

You had been so excited to prepare the desserts, and present your dish. However, halfway through the day, somewhere between the main course, watching your nephews with their new toys, and the dessert course of the delicious homemade Christmas feast, you’d fallen asleep on the sofa completely tuckered out. Your legs rested on Henry’s lap as he’d covered you with a hand-knitted blanket that he’d once slept with as a boy. Henry’s mother speaks up, careful not to wake you. She has a gleam in her eye, not that you or even Henry notice, too wrapped up in your own cozy sleepy bubble together by the fire.

“Dessert can wait” his mother says to the gaggle of children and adults swarming the living room, “go out and get some fresh air.”

She turns to the children, specifically. “Do not disturb your Aunt, okay?”

------

Your cheeks are warm as the fire heats the living room, and after a particularly competitive game of rugby with his brothers, nieces, and nephews, Henry quietly checks on you. He had left the room earlier when you had shifted your legs slightly, taking the opportunity to get some fresh air himself. It had indeed been a long day. His brothers had questioned your tiredness briefly, making sure you were well. With the knowledge that you were simply sleepy, they had begun to joke that you obviously just couldn’t keep up with the rest of the Cavills - despite having married into the family for 2 years and been around for the holidays for 4. Henry had promised them that you were fine - that you still weren’t used to the long trip back to the island for the holidays.

Not exactly a fib, he’d thought.

Kal was laid beside you, loyal as ever, watching out for anyone who may disturb your rest, sending a rumbling growl towards anyone who approached. Except Henry.

While checking on you now to make sure you were still comfortable and resting well, he smiled, taking a picture of you wrapped up cosily by the fire, at peace in his childhood home, completely at rest and ease with him and his closest relatives. Petting Kal softly, he thanks him for looking after his mama so well.

“So?”

His mother, he hears. She’s alone for once as there was no one rushing to check for updates on food, no enquiries about the house, or any funny stories woven into a ten minute tale from her grandchildren. She’s alone, with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

Henry stands up straight. There’s nothing that can wipe the tremendously cheesy grin off of his face. He can’t even speak. Even after dessert had finished, you were the one who would be doing all the talking, the telling, the explaining.

“Mum-”

“Henry. She’s not ill. and i know you’re sensible enough to not be up the whole night with your wife...at least under my roof. So…?”

He looks over at your peaceful form, and then scratches his neck, blushing at being caught out, but also ecstatic that he can finally say something about it.

“She’s eleven weeks. We’re expecting a baby next summer”

With that, his mother almost leaps with joy over to her son, who she hugs closely despite the obvious height barrier.

“Oh i knew it, I knew it! I’m so happy for you Henry, for you both. I thought, ‘She normally loves that bread for starter’, hm? Oh my boy! A father!”

With her proclamation, Henry finds that he has tears in his eyes as he holds his Mother close, finally glad that it’s not just a little secret between the two of you - well, the two of you and Kal, who had already been a stellar protector and big brother.

“We had planned to tell everyone after dessert…we’ve known for nearly 2 months and it’s been killing me that I couldn’t say. We’ve had to be so careful-“

“Henry?” he hears your quiet voice from across the room, as Kal’s collar jingles. He turns to see you sitting up from your nap with Kal booping his nose at your stomach. You’re scratching at his head, thanking him for being such a wonderful boy, while looking up at the two Cavills.

It takes less than a second for you to realise what is happening in front of you. Your jaw drops and louder than your previous call, you exclaim, “Henry you told her?”

“She worked it out! Practically forced it out of me.” he grins, holding his hands up as his Mother pretends to smack his arm.

You stand, watching not to step on Kal or any stray Legos that your nephews have left strewn across the floor, and walk over to hug her. She’s been so caring and kind since you’ve joined the family all those years ago, and you know that she will be an incredible Grandma to your little one.

Breaking apart from the hug, you find Henry pulling you to him carefully, letting you melt into his side. Kissing your forehead he asks, for your ears only, “Good sleep? No pains? Sickness?” He has a small crease of worry between his brows and you always do your best to soften that small tense area with regular updates and sweet kisses.

“Yeah i’m okay honey” you reassure him, patting your stomach, “this ones growing up a storm in there”.

And they really are. Henry’s mother cannot believe she’s seeing it, and mostly can’t believe she missed it. You’re already showing, but a large loose sweater -probably one of Henry’s old ones that has since become yours - over your dress, has hidden a sizeable roundness to your stomach that you were excited to finally show.

“How did I miss this!” Your mother-in-law gasps, causing you to grin, and Henry’s chest to puff with utter pride and excitement.

“I know it’s bordering on having too much to eat, but we’ve been hiding it for a couple weeks now. Doctor thinks that baby’s gonna be big. Just like their daddy.” You explain, giving your stomach another gentle rub, surprised to find Henry’s hand there on it already.

If you’d thought Kal was protective, Henry was another thing altogether.

He’s still grinning as you kiss him, before you pull away to speak more to his mother about all the details, especially when you’ll be coming over to Jersey again. Kai follows you closely, making sure you’re staying safe. He’s known that there’s something up with his mama, there has been for weeks, especially with the way his master looks after you now.

Henry, deciding to be sneaky while the two women in his life are currently distracted chatting, takes another taste of the dessert you made, now set out on the kitchen. The worst part is, he thinks he’s got away with it.

He realises he doesn’t the second you smack his hand from the dessert.

“Strike two Mr Cavill! Step away from the pie.”

“And if I don’t?” he raises an eyebrow, watching your reactions as you hold a butter knife in your hand trying to look at least vaguely threatening - failing miserably. “Maybe i’ll strike out tonight, hm?” he continues with that wonderfully mischievous glint in his eye, taking cautious steps towards you. “You look even sweeter than your pie with this little bump here. Maybe I’ll have a taste later after all.”

Henry’s mother had not been right in her assumptions, for under her roof, you and Henry were not sensible at all.

------------------------------------------------------

please let me know what u think! i am v nervous to post but excited!!!

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill writing #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry fic #cavillry #henry cavill fluff

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chatonne-rousse · 3 years

Text

Turtle-y Awesome

@sketchy-panda sent me the following ask last week:

...and this is the story that sprang from that ask. You never know what you're going to get when you share a headcanon with me! 😉

Read it on Ao3 here.

"...et puit, quand il fut bien certain que personne ne pouvait le voir, Benjamin alluma sa veilleuse."

Adrien turns the last worn page and sets the book beside his knee on Hugo's bed.

"What do you think, kitten? Benjamin was turtle-y being a scaredy-cat, wasn't he?"

Hugo giggles, eyes bright. "He's not a cat, Papa, he's a turtle!"

Adrien nods sagely at his son. "Right you are," he says, patting the book's cover. "If this book tortoise anything, it's that Benjamin is definitely a turtle."

The number of turtle puns in the world is finite, and Hugo has heard his dad tell them all repeatedly, but he still laughs every time. The sound is music to Adrien's ears. He grins as he leans down to tuck the duvet around Hugo's shoulders and lifts his son's dark fringe to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Can we read another story, Papa? I'm not even tired."

Hugo's big green eyes scrunch shut as he yawns widely.

"Mmhmm. I can tell. You know what?" Adrien grabs another stuffed turtle from the bookcase and tucks it in beside the Carapace plushie already cradled in Hugo's arms. "Monsieur Vert looks very tired. He was almost sleeping over there! Maybe if you hold him really, really gently, that will help him fall asleep. I'm sure Carapace is tuckered out after a long day of superheroing, too."

"He is," Hugo says, nodding. He strokes his little hand up and over Monsieur Vert's soft shell. "I'll help them, Papa."

Adrien smiles even as his chest squeezes with emotion. "I know you will, my kind-hearted kitten." He can't resist pressing another kiss to Hugo's forehead and delights in receiving a loud, smacking kiss to his own cheek in return.

The turtle lamp on the nightstand is switched off and the Carapace nightlight beside the bookshelf activates, dim light glowing green through the plastic.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite tortue."

He watches his son cuddle his turtle and Carapace close as the closing door slowly eclipses the bed in shadow from the hallway light. Leaving the door open a crack, Adrien listens for a moment as Hugo gets comfortable in his bed.

He smiles as he pads down the hall toward Emma's room to join his wife for another round of goodnight kisses for their precious kittens.

*****

"Kitty, this is getting ridiculous. How is that the only thing he wants for his birthday?" Marinette shakes her head, but her grin betrays her lack of any real annoyance.

Adrien rubs his face and groans. "I know. Believe me, I know. Can you imagine if Nino knew?"

That surprises her. "You haven't told him? I told Alya ages ago when he said Carapace was his favorite." She thinks for a moment. "I don't think I've shared the, um...depth of the obsession, though."

He stares at her, deadpan, before they both laugh.

"Turtles I could handle, Mari. They're cute. They're green." He bats his eyes at her and she swats his arm playfully. "But Carapace? Carapace? When Chat Noir is right there? I don't get it."

"Awww, Chaton. Is my kitty jealous?"

"Of course not," he says, pouting, though he can't keep up the ruse and his smile breaks through. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Nino made a wonderful hero, and is the perfect holder for Wayzz, and you know it."

She scooches closer to him on the sofa and rubs his back gently. His eyes close for just a moment before opening them to find his wife gazing at him with what might just be his favorite look in her eyes - a teasing glint, a touch of heat, and an endless well of love. Everything goes fuzzy momentarily, but he catches her next words clearly.

"Besides, my favorite hero will always be Chat Noir. Always."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

She nods.

Her eyes go wide when he hauls her petite frame from the sofa beside him and settles her across his lap. She laughs as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips.

"What a coincidence, My Lady," he murmurs into the whisper of space between them, "because my favorite hero--" He pauses, kissing her again, "is also Chat Noir."

There's a beat of silence and then she's laughing, pressing her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her giggles. His arms tighten around her shaking shoulders as he laughs along with her, swept away by the sweet sound he will always love. There's no joy in the world quite like making his wife laugh.

"You know I'm kidding, Bug," he finally whispers into her hair when their laughter subsides. "Emma and I share a favorite hero. The greatest of all. Prettiest, too. Oh, wow, is she ever beautiful. And strong. And smart."

"Rena Rouge?" Marinette asks cheekily, her nose still pressed to his neck.

"Nooooo," he croons, tickling her sides until she laughs again. "It's Ladybug, jumping above, Lady magique et lady chance!"

"Kitty, no!" she begs through her giggles, "Don't get that in my head!"

"Too late!"

He silences the last of her laughter when he captures her lips with his, twin sighs mingling in the late-night quiet of the living room.

With forever in his arms and their shared future asleep down the hall, Adrien simply loses himself in this blissful moment, forgetting that their baby will turn five next weekend, that the passage of time is as inevitable as the dichotomy of creation and destruction. Wrapped up in his wife, time seems to stop altogether. Marinette - her love, her care, their unshakeable bond - is eternal.

But of course, the clock still ticks. And when they part a few minutes later, after one last kiss and a nuzzle of her nose against his, he still has to ask.

"So we're really throwing Hugo a Carapace-themed birthday party?"

She nods. "Yep."

"And we're buying him the new Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker, complete with Carapace action figure, power-ups, costume changes, a Turtle-mobile sports car that Nino never had, and four different colored shields that he also never had?"

"There's a jet, too, for some reason. But...yep."

Adrien nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "He's going to love it."

"Oh, he is," she affirms, her grin matching her husband's. "And so is Uncle Nino."

He snorts a laugh and pulls her close once more, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

"This'll be hilarious."

Marinette smiles against his shoulder.

"Yep."

*****

Everything is green.

Their normally colorful apartment seems to have transformed into an emerald dreamscape that doubles as a turtle sanctuary.

Everything is green, and there are turtles everywhere.

Sea turtles, tortoises, turtles of all kinds - including a certain turtle-themed superhero - adorn every surface. Adrien had been surprised by the amount of Carapace party merchandise he was able to find online. He's used to the numerous Carapace items in Hugo's bedroom, pieces he's added to his collection one by one over the past year or so. But this, his best friend's face dangling from streamers, emblazoned on little party hats, is just a little weird.

He's proud, though. A little jealous, a lot amused, and very, very proud. No desperately sad, pitifully lonely teenage boy has ever found a better friend than Nino Lahiffe. He's the brother of his heart, the mellow to his anxious, the staunch protector of their little group of best friends and hero teammates. Adrien has to admit that Hugo has great taste in favorite superheroes.

Someday he'll discover that his idol is also his Uncle Nino, but today is not that day. Today, the magic and wonder still shines in his son's eyes, and it's a beautiful thing.

Adrien putters around the kitchen making last-minute preparations to the food and drink selection, making sure there are plenty of cups and plates (all printed with a Carapace action scene, of course) stacked on the island. Oddly, he couldn't find Carapace napkins to go along with the other paper goods, but Marinette had saved the day by snagging a pack of sea turtle patterned napkins that coordinated perfectly in a pinch.

He smiles at the thought of his resourceful bug, his grin widening as he hears her welcome guests at the door. This is followed by a squeal of glee when Hugo and two of his classmates run off to his bedroom to play. Adrien shakes his head, still smiling. He'll have to lure them out in a bit with snacks and the promise of gifts and cake.

It's not like he doesn't already know from several years of experience that children's birthday parties are mostly adults mingling and intermittently making sure the kids don't get into too much mischief as they play together.

He takes the spinach quiche from the oven where it was warming up and sets it on the table with the other food, rebelliously placing a black potholder with a neon green pawprint pattern under the hot ceramic dish.

A towering, tiered tray of green macarons has pride of place on the dining room table, the top half of each cookie painted to look like a turtle's shell in edible glittering gold. They look almost too pretty to eat, and the same goes for the expertly-decorated turtle cake nearby, made by Hugo's grandparents and brought straight from the bakery for his big day.

The vegetable plate is an array of green, from broccoli to peppers to celery. The party has barely begun, but the celery is already running low, thanks to Emma's clandestine snacking in the hours beforehand.

Everything is green, and Hugo loves it. And that's what it's all about, really.

*****

Adrien is on his way back from checking in on the now half dozen kids playing in Hugo's room when he hears Alya's laughter from the entryway. Clearly she's spotted the party decor. He rounds the corner to find Marinette hugging her best friend, Alya's pregnant belly only getting in the way a bit and not stopping her from throwing her arms around Marinette's shoulders.

"Sorry we're late, Mari," she says, then pitches her voice to a stage whisper. "I had to pee. Twice." She leans back from the hug and cradles her bump. "Actually, I'm just going to..." She points down the hall, and Marinette laughs.

"Go for it, Als. We've all been there."

Nino is still crouched by the door, helping his daughter out of her jacket and shoes. He just shakes his head and laughs. She races off to find her "cousins" and Nino stands, kissing Marinette on each cheek and wrapping Adrien in a hug.

Surveying the apartment over Adrien's shoulder, he claps him on the back and says, "I love what you've done with the place. Very inspired design choice."

Adrien rolls his eyes and all three of them laugh.

"Hugo is obsessed with turtles. You have no idea."

"Oh, I think he has some idea, Minou." Marinette smiles at her husband over her shoulder, linking arms with Alya when she joins them again and ushering her into the green-bedecked living room.

He glances sidelong at Nino with a sheepish grin. "This isn't too weird for you, is it? It was all Hugo's idea. He hasn't stopped talking about his 'Carapace Turtle Party' for weeks," Adrien says, air quotes included.

"Nah, mec, it's cool. Kind of flattering." Nino raises an eyebrow and laughs. "What do you think he'll say when you tell him someday?"

Adrien just shakes his head. "Probably ask if you can adopt him and be his dad instead." His smile is teasing but just a touch rueful.

Nino laughs again. "No way, man. Number one, I've already got enough kids. Number two, you're the best dad. They love you like crazy, bro. Seriously."

His chest fills with warmth. Nino is such an incredible friend. And he's right (about the last bit, at least).

"They're incredible, Nino. Being a dad is..." He trails off, unable to find the words.

"I know, dude." He claps Adrien on the shoulder. "They're a pain in the ass, but they make up for it by being totally awesome."

Nino glances around, finally spotting the table full of green food and turtle-themed treats.

"Wait. Bro. Is that a turtle cake?"

*****

"You know," Nino says a few minutes later, washing down a matcha macaron with a swig of turtle punch, "I could get used to this. It would mess with my head, but after a while--" he looks at the cup with his face on it and shrugs, "it's not so strange. Better than having my face plastered on a billboard outside the Galeries Lafayette."

Adrien groans. "Et tu, Brute? Why would you remind me of that?"

"Because I can." Nino takes another bite of macaron and nudges his best friend's shoulder, laughing.

*****

As the kids snack and carry on, Adrien finally decides it's time to let his best friend see the Carapace shrine that is his son's bedroom.

Nino takes in Hugo's completely green, turtle-filled bedroom as Adrien waits with bated breath beside him for his reaction.

It is, as usual, relatively chill.

"Little dude has good taste!"

"Indeed." Wayzz peeks from Nino's collar with a pleased smile on his face. "The turtle has always symbolized wisdom, strength, and longevity." His tiny smile widens. "I'm also partial to the color green."

Nino steps farther into Hugo's room to examine the bookcase. "I...did not know they made this much Carapace merch."

"Believe me, there's more. We have to draw the line somewhere." Adrien closes his eyes and sighs. "Although he does brush his teeth with a Carapace toothbrush."

Nino's laugh starts as a snort and builds when he spots the Carapace wastebasket beside Hugo's bed and the Carapace plushie propped against his pillow. It turns positively raucous when he sees his best friend's face.

"Holy crap, dude," he wheezes. "This is hilarious. You must be so jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are."

"Well--" Adrien sputters, "Marinette is, too!"

"Not as much as you are, Kitty!" she calls from the living room.

Adrien throws his hands in the air. Nino doubles over.

"Chat Noir is cool, too," he mutters, petulant.

A still-laughing Nino pats his arm consolingly. "If it makes you feel any better, Chat Noir is my favorite hero...after Rena Rouge."

That actually does make him feel better, but he's not telling Nino that. Instead, he just grins a sly half-smile at his best friend. "Good save, man."

"Hey, I know which side my bread is buttered on, mec. Don't act like you don't."

Adrien is helpless to the smile that spreads across his face.

Nino groans. "You've been married for seven years, dude. Are you ever not going to go all gooey just thinking about Marinette?"

Adrien quirks an eyebrow and glances sidelong at him. Nino nods once and pats Adrien's shoulder.

"That was a dumb question, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Marinette says from the hallway behind them.

Adrien's heart beats faster at the twinkle in her eye. He wonders how much she heard. Probably all of it - she always did have sonic hearing, but motherhood seemed to ramp it up to eleven. Not much escapes his wife.

"Time for cake and presents," she announces. "Nino, you can revel in Hugo's Carapace shrine later."

"And I will, don't you worry," Nino says with a laugh as he turns to head back to the party.

Adrien throws an arm over his best friend's shoulder and smiles brightly at Marinette.

Hugo has merch, but Adrien has a real, live Ladybug who promised eternity to her Chat Noir. He holds his own favorite superhero in his arms every night, and nothing, nothing compares to that.

*****

Surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, the birthday boy sits on the floor with one last gift in front of him. The box is taller than he is when seated, and he has to stand up on his knees to tear the paper off the top. As soon as he can see what's inside, he shouts with glee and jumps to his feet. Overjoyed, he scampers around the coffee table to his parents, first thanking Marinette with a hug and kiss, then getting swept up in Adrien's arms for a bear hug.

The fact that Hugo doesn't push away from him to return to his barely-unwrapped gift is not lost on him, nor is the fact that he abandoned it and thought to thank them first in his excitement.

Sometimes Adrien feels like he's been given so much more than he deserves. Marinette alone is a blessing beyond his imagination, but Emma and Hugo, too? It's too much and he knows it, so he holds them close and relishes every single moment like this one with his little boy hugging him tight and murmuring thanks into his neck.

A few minutes later finds Hugo examining every detail of his new treasure (after Adrien wrangled all the parts out of their plastic-encased prison).

He claps his hands when he sees that this set comes with a bonus Chat Noir action figure in addition to Carapace and his shields of many colors.

"Maman!" he cries, jubilant, holding Chat Noir above his head so she can see. "Look! It has Chat Noir! You love Chat Noir!"

Blushing, Marinette pointedly avoids looking in the direction of the two moms of Hugo's school friends who've stayed for the party but smiles widely at her son. "I do. He's my favorite superhero of all time."

Hugo nods, turning to his dad where he sits beside him on the floor, struggling to snip the tiny plastic anchors holding each piece to the cardboard backing.

"See, Papa? He's Carapace's sidekick."

"Hey!" Adrien says indignantly. He looks up from the mess of cardboard and plastic in his lap as Marinette, Alya, and Nino laugh.

Nino, best bro that he is, chimes in. "Nah, little man, Chat Noir is no one's sidekick. He's way too brave and cool for that." He grins at Hugo and points first to the Carapace action figure on the coffee table and then to Chat Noir in his hand. "They're a team. Best friends and superheroes at the same time. That's why they're so awesome."

Hugo looks at the Chat Noir figure for a long moment. "Wow," he breathes. "Chat Noir is as cool as Carapace." He says it like a revelation that's rocked his entire worldview.

Alya sniffles and Marinette hands her a tissue.

"Okay, but Ladybug is still the coolest," Emma pipes up from Hugo's other side.

All the adults besides Marinette nod. Adrien reaches around Hugo to pat Emma's back.

"You're absolutely correct, kitten."

Marinette blushes again and Alya blows her nose.

Hugo tucks Carapace into the driver's seat of the Turtle-mobile with Chat Noir beside him as his passenger, racing the sports car across the rug toward his friends so they can play with his new toys, too.

Adrien looks from his son to his own best friend, and Nino gives him a thumbs up and a grin.

*****

Later, when the dishes are washed and their living room looks slightly less like a turtle habitat, Adrien sits on the sofa with a cup of tea and watches Hugo play with his new, treasured birthday gifts. The Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker is open, its many accessories strewn around Hugo where he sits cross-legged, Carapace in his left hand and Chat Noir in his right.

"I'll protect you!" "Carapace" cries, Hugo's voice pitched to sound brave and true but still carrying his sweet child's tone.

"Thank you for keeping My Lady safe, Carapace!"

Adrien snorts a surprised laugh into his tea. "Chat Noir" speaks in a husky growl, though Hugo gives him a note of cheery confidence, as though he truly appreciates Carapace's brave deeds, as though Chat Noir can take the decisive cataclysmic swing knowing his beloved partner is safe from harm.

And honestly, Hugo has the right of it. Adrien wonders how his son could possibly know that this exact scene - with slightly different dialogue, of course - played out many times over, years before he was born.

Hugo mimics the sound of an explosion, then an "oof!" as Chat Noir falls to his back but springs up again quickly. Just as Carapace returns to Chat's side with a confident, "What can I do to help save the day, Chat Noir?", Marinette's hands snake around Adrien's shoulders from behind, surprising him.

He sets his mug on a coaster on the end table and wraps his hands around her forearms, pulling her in closer. Leaned over the back of the sofa, she nuzzles his cheek with hers before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I think we pulled off the dream turtle party pretty well, don't you, Chaton?"

"Oh, we turtle-y did."

Adrien delights in the huff of laughter she exhales against his cheek. That might be the most overused pun in the house, but sometimes it still lands just right. They watch Hugo play, matching grins making their cheeks press closer together.

"Looks like that was one shell of a gift, eh?"

He swoons dramatically, his head falling to the back cushion of the sofa so he looks at Marinette upside-down. "My Lady, you know what it does to me when you pun."

"Oh, I do," she says, completely unapologetic, and boops his nose.

He just has to lean up to kiss her because, well, she's so beautiful and he loves her so much and she's right there.

They break apart a moment later when they hear Emma call for Marinette from her bedroom. She plants one last upside-down kiss on his forehead and lets her hands drift slowly across his chest and shoulders as she stands.

She gives him a wry smile. "Duty calls."

"Hmmm," he hums thoughtfully, picking up his tea and taking another sip. "And here I thought her name was Emma."

Marinette groans at him as she walks away, and the sound catches Hugo's attention.

"Papa? Will you play superheroes with me?"

Of course. Always. I will never, ever be too busy for my kittens, he thinks.

"Sure, buddy," he says instead.

Finishing his tea in one big gulp, he slides from the sofa and scampers on hands and knees like a giant cat to where his son is playing. Hugo giggles at his dad's ridiculousness.

Adrien takes stock of the many accessories scattered around the play set and asks, "What are Chat Noir and Carapace up to today?"

Hugo explains the situation, the bad guy's motives, and what the heroes need to do to save Paris from disaster. Adrien listens carefully. Looking up at him with green eyes that match his own, big and wide and crinkled at the corners with his happy smile, Hugo offers the Chat Noir action figure to his dad.

"Will you be Chat Noir, Papa? He's Carapace's best friend in the world and they need to work together to save the day."

Adrien cradles the action figure in one hand and gently pats the pocket where Plagg hides with the other. His kwami presses a paw against his chest in return. Overwhelmed, all he can do is grin at Hugo and try not to cry.

"It would be my greatest honor," he vows grandly, holding up a hand in oath. "I purr-omise to be the best hero I can be. Cat's honor."

Hugo laughs. "You said honor twice."

"So I did. That's because it's very important."

His son nods solemnly, then reaches for Carapace's super jet. He places the hero in the cockpit and flies the jet around his head, making zooming noises.

"Are you ready, Chat Noir? I'm coming to pick you up!"

The jet has only one seat, but that doesn't seem to bother Hugo. Adrien readies the tiny plastic baton in Chat Noir's hand and uses it to vault from his own knee into the imaginary sky over Paris.

"Meow-velous!" he crows, delighted. "This cat is ready to be whiskered away in your very realistic jet! Allons-y, my turtle friend!"

Hugo giggles, Adrien's heart melts, and they set off on a grand adventure together.

#domestic fluff #dadrien #mominette #hugo loves turtles #and carapace #and uncle nino loves it #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #future fic #family fluff #thanks for the idea sketchy!#gift fic #ml fanfiction #ml fanfic #ml #miraculous ladybug #my writing

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Goodnight

Prompts: TODAY IS LESBIAN DAY WE NEED WLW SIDES - anon (who is correct)

Hi, I just wanna say I love how you writing is a perfect blend of angst and fluff.

If you want, could you write a story of Remus (or Janus) comforting Logan after a nightmare. No pressure.💚 - anon (who is also correct)

I mean we gotta appreciate the lesbians

Read on Ao3

Warnings: literally this thing is so fluffy imma use it as a pillow

Pairings: introloceit, implied background dlampr

Word Count: 1437

Just because she’s Logic doesn’t mean she doesn’t get nightmares.

Logan’s footsteps are silent save for the few creaks in the floorboards. Despite the fact that they are decidedly not physical, it seems the laws of physics have no trouble extending to a metaphysical level. She keeps her eyes out for anyone who might be awake. She has to keep them safe, they have to—

They’ve just got to be safe.

She rounds the corner into the Dark Sides’ living room and pauses. Remus—Remus isn’t here. Remus is always here. She doesn’t sleep, not like the rest of them do.

Logan feels her blood run cold.

Remus. Where is Remus?

She breaks into a run, looking for the one light under her door, under Virgil’s door, under anyone’s door. She rounds the corner and—

Janus’s door is cracked, a soft glow spilling into the hallway. As she edges closer, she hears a faint tapping coming from inside.

She hesitates, then reaches out and knocks twice.

The tapping stops.

“Come in.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Logan pushes the door open to see Janus sitting at her desk. She looks up and smiles softly.

“Hi, sweetie,” she murmurs, “what’re you doing awake?”

“I could ask you the same question.” She glances at the door. “May I come in?”

“Of course, sweetie, come in. Sit down.”

Logan glances one more time at the hallway. Janus catches it and frowns.

“What’s wrong, sweetie, did you hear something?”

“No, I’m alright, I just—“ she swallows— “haven’t seen Remus.”

“I’m in here too, Pocket Protector.”

Logan’s head jerks around. Janus gestures to the bed and sure enough, there’s Remus, her legs kicked up behind her. She waves.

“Get over here, Lolo,” she calls, “sit down. Jan-Jan’s gonna be protective since you’re up so late.”

“You’re both up late too,” Logan mumbles as she does as bid, closing the door with a soft click and perching awkwardly on the end of the bed. Janus frowns, turning around.

“Did you want something?”

“Huh? Oh no, I’m perfectly alright.”

Janus hisses gently.

Logan pushes her glasses further up her nose. “May I ask what you’re working on?”

Janus and Remus exchange a glance before Janus sighs. “A plan for a new test Remus wants to do. Hopefully, it should increase effectiveness and control the reverse-osmosis-torque factor.” She frowns at Logan when there’s no response. She waits for a second before standing and coming to crouch in front of her “Alright, what’s happened?”

“What?” Logan blinks. “Nothing, nothing, everything’s fine.”

Janus raises an eyebrow.

“Mmm, what the hell is reverse-osmosis-torque factor?”

Logan’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Remus huffs and scoots a little closer.

Janus softens, reaching up to fix Logan’s glasses. “Why did you come in the middle of the night?”

“You’re still awake too!”

“Insomniacs, sweetie. Why did you close the door?”

Logan stutters into silence, mouth trying to form words. Janus stands, reaching to gently cup Logan’s cheek. “Sweetie, what happened?”

“…you won’t believe me.”

Before she can blink, Remus is sprawled across her lap, toying idly with the hem of her nightshirt. Janus sits on the bed next to her, still cupping her face, another hand stretching out to turn off the computer.

“Lies are my job, Logan,” she murmurs, “I’ll believe you.”

“I had a nightmare.”

She waits for her to laugh. Nothing except an encouraging tap under her chin.

“It was…bad.”

“What happened,” Remus asks quietly, “can you tell us, Lolo?”

She swallows heavily. “I couldn’t remember who you, or Patton, or Roman, or Virgil, or—or Remus were. You—I didn’t know what to do, you—”

Janus lets out a soft noise as she swallows again.

“…you didn’t remember me either.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, pulling Logan’s head into the crook of her neck, “shh, we remember you, of course we remember you, you’re so important, sweetie.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Lolo.” Remus turns over to plant her face in her tummy. “You’re ours. You’re never getting away.”

Despite everything, the corner of Logan’s mouth quirks up. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“You’re you,” Remus says simply, “that’s enough.”

Before Logan can respond to that—or even work out how—Remus rolls off and starts tugging her hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’re gonna sleep, Lolo, and we’re gonna take care of you.”

“What about—“ she gestures toward the computer.

“Mindless scrolling, Logan,” Janus says softly, “now come on.”

Logan lets Remus tug her up, only to squeak in surprise when she suddenly has an armful of green.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you, you big doof.” She looks up at her, placing her chin flat on her chest. “You look like you need a hug.”

“What are you gonna do, just cuddle me all night?” Remus nods. “N-no, you don’t have to, I’ll be alright—“

“You don’t have to do that, baby girl,” Remus says, still trying to get Logan to lie down.

“Let us take care of you, sweetie.” Janus does up behind her to wrap more arms around the two of them.

Logan knows when she’s outnumbered. As Janus goes to turn the light off, she lets Remus pull back the covers and snuggle into bed near the wall. She lies down next to her, trying to get comfortable in the darkness.

Only for Janus to try to lie down on top of her.

“Janus, I—ah! You’re squishing me!” She’s met with a chuckle as Janus’s weight settles atop her. “Get off me!”

“You’re in my spot, sweetie.” She slings one leg over hers so they’re flush. “You move.”

“I cannot move with you on top of me!” She pushes lightly at her chest to demonstrate. In the dim light, she sees her grin turned wicked.

“Really?” Her hands begin to slowly trail up and down her sides. “You can’t move? At all? Mind if I test that?”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t.”

“Too late.” She smirks and starts tickling her, smiling as she starts to giggle and squirm, trying to get away. “Seems like you can move fairly well to me.”

“St-stop! Pl-please stop—no!”

“But your laugh is so cute, giggle bug,” Remus says, the traitor. As her giggles turn silent, Janus kneads her sides one last time before stopping, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“No…more. Please?”

Janus chuckles and runs her hand over her stomach. “Want to move out of my spot?”

She pushes herself up, giving Logan room to roll out of the way before collapsing back down. The second she lies down, she wraps her arms around Logan’s waist, pushes her legs between her, laying her head on her chest.

“Are you certain this is not an excuse to cuddle me?”

Janus lifts her head up, running a hand through Logan’s hair. “Why did you come to me, sweetie?”

At Logan’s silence, Remus chuckles and snuggles against Logan’s shoulder. “She gotcha. Now she’s not gonna let you go for a week.”

That…doesn’t sound like the worst possible outcome.

Remus smirks. “You know you’ve just given me the green light to protectively cuddle you at any time, right?”

Janus plants an exaggerated kiss on her forehead, hushing her whine of protest. “You love it, sweetie. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“So do you.”

“Of course.” Janus winks. “Just don’t ruin my reputation.”

The room quiets. Remus drifts off first, whistling snores in Logan’s ear. The noise itself isn’t enough to keep her awake, but she stays doggedly alert, her eyes opening every few seconds.

Will the nightmare come back? What if they realize that it’s true, that they don’t need me? What if this makes them decide they don’t want me anymore?

“Sweetie,” Janus whispers, moving up to tuck Logan’s head under her chin, “shh. That’s not true, you know it isn’t. We love you, sweetie, you’re important to us.”

In her sleep, Remus grabs onto her, turning her face into her shoulder.

Oh.

“Go to sleep, sweetie,” Janus soothes, running her hand through Logan’s hair, “we’ll be here when you wake up.”

The hand in her hair is doing wonders to send her right to sleep. She opens her mouth to clumsily mumble: “thank you.”

“Of course, sweetie. Now goodnight.”

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know!

#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #logan sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Exception to the Rule

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: M (?)

Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual themes. No smut, but I mean reader definitely wants to ride that cowboy. Period typical shame.

Summary: There is one exception to your rule about forcing Arthur to forgo chores and take a rest, that is the duty of chopping firewood.

Notes: Right, so I need someone to explain to me quite why I find men chopping wood to be attractive. I’m sure you can psychoanalyse the heck out of me from that fact alone.

Can you tell i’m a tad touched starved and needy at the moment? Can you tell, good sirs?

Archiveofourown

Arthur Morgan was the workhorse of the gang and that was a bonafide fact. The man brought in more money and more supplies than anyone else in camp. Added to the fact that he also did more than his fair share of chores, you often worried that the big burly outlaw would work himself to death. Especially with him picking up the slack for those who never seemed to do anything around camp like Uncle and Strauss.

Normally you’d stop him doing whatever chore he was doing, tell him to take a rest, go have a lie down and sleep or get some stew from the pot since he was the only reason you were even able to eat. You’d pull whatever he had from his hands and gently coax the man to go look after himself for five minutes which you’d manage to turn into at least an hour of down time. Every time he was reluctant, but grateful, asking you, ‘What’d I ever do to deserve you, darlin’?’ and every time you’d tell him something to the effect of ‘You were yourself, Mr Morgan’ while feeling flustered under his gaze.

There was one exception to this rule you had about getting Arthur to take some time off and look after himself. That rule was that whenever the man decided to bolster the camp’s firewood store you left him to it. Now this wasn’t a selfless decision, not one born out of respect for the man’s love for swinging a heavy axe at a wood log pretending it was Micah’s head. No, the reason for this rule was entirely, completely, most certainly the fact that Arthur Morgan never looked more handsome or primally attractive then when he was chopping wood especially in the height of summer or during the warmer season.

So, while you were most certainly going to hell and your late mother would be rolling in her grave, you found yourself on a stuffy warm day hands deep in a laundry bucket, but not really focusing on your work at all.

“Y/N, he’s at it again!” It had been Karen who’d notified you, giggling in your ear as you looked up and across camp towards the tree stump that was used for chopping firewood. Your arms elbow deep in soapy water, you hadn’t really thought to remove them, just lean further forward on your hands, lips parting with a sigh.

You don’t even care that you can hear the girls giggling behind you as they get on with their work, occasionally sneaking glances up at the same sight as you.

Arthur was strong, if he were a horse he’d be his 18 hands high shire horse. If he were a predator, he’d be a brown bear. It was always more clear though when he decided to chop firewood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing thick, strong forearms dotted in scars and dark hair. You watched him roll his thick wrists once, twice before hefting the wood axe into his hands and up over his broad shoulders which tensed as he brought the axe down with a loud crack, the log splitting easily in two.

You watched the blue shirt strain over the breadth of his shoulders every time he brought the axe down, listened to the grunts that left his mouth with effort, followed the droplets of sweat that beaded at his forehead before rolling down his cheek and neck, disappearing beneath his favourite shirt. He grumbled slightly to himself about the dig of suspenders in his shoulders, slipping them off to rest by his thighs and threw his favourite gambler hat off to the side as it got in the way of his swings.

There was something about the immense power that Arthur exuded with each sharp decisive swing. The strength of his body combined with the sureness of his strokes made you slip a little with your hands in the washtub, splashing soapy water over the ground and your skirt with a curse.

You quickly returned your gaze to your work as you noticed Arthur’s head twist to check on you. Ever the helper and protector, he always seemed to zero in on any sound of complaint or unhappiness you made. You couldn’t have him catch on to your favourite chore.

“Y’alright over there, sweetheart?” It was called across the clearing, concern riding his voice as he briefly let the axe fall to his side to check on you. It brought a warmth to your body, blood rushing through you towards your ears and cheeks at his concern and your mild embarrassment.

“Oh, she’s just fine, Arthur. Don’t you worry about her!”

“Karen!” You twist from your place knelt on the ground and reach over to slap her arm. The truth was as much as you were interested in Arthur, you were simply friends. You made sure he didn’t work himself to death and he made sure you smiled on bad days. It was nothing more, nothing less, even if the sight of him made you feel weak at the knees. The last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed in front of him over your...thoughts.

“If you say so.” He gave the two of you a look before turning back to the stump. Putting it down briefly, you watched at first from the corner of your eye before being unable to resist his siren’s call as he unbuttoned the blue shirt and tossed it in a pile with his hat. Left in the top half of his union suit that clung tightly to the broad planes of his chest and the tight muscles of his shoulders, he was quite the sight.

Your eyes followed the strong line of his neck as he circled his head to stretch out a tight muscle and draw a crack from uncomfortable joints. They followed it down to the unbuttoned union suit that revealed strong collar bones and dark chest hair. Followed it down to the strong wide breadth of his body. More interested in that than the wood he was chopping.

“You might wanna close your mouth or else you might catch flies.” Tilly teases you, you would give her a playful glare, but couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away from the specimen of a man that had gone back to his wood cutting.

Another log, hefted onto the stump, biceps filling out as he bent his arms to lift it. Another swing of the axe, broad shoulders seeming even larger under the strain. Another grunt. Another droplet of sweat.

“My mother must be rolling in her grave.” You say aloud, just a random thought, a little thing. That if she could see the heat of your gaze on Arthur, feel the warmth to your skin, know the itch in your belly, then she’d drag you by the ear to confessional where you’d have to tell the priest about all those thoughts. Like how you wanted Arthur to just throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his tent.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be having such wicked thoughts about our dear Mr Morgan, Y/N. Mighty improper of you.”

“Mary-Beth, I defy any woman to not have wicked thoughts when Arthur’s chopping firewood.” You hit back eyes finally drifting from Arthur to your friends. Each of them has the same look you’re sure was on your face. Each no doubt having done exactly what you had done when Arthur started unbuttoning his shirt in the summer heat and heaving a heavy axe over his shoulder.

“She’s got a point, Mary-Beth, that’s a whole lotta man, right there.” Tilly chimes in and some of that guilt that gnaws at you for staring at Arthur in such an improper manner dissolves. You’re not the only one who enjoys watching him chop wood. You’re not wrong for it. You’re just a woman with blood in your veins.

“It’s a damn shame he thinks he’s ugly. He’s the most handsome man around camp.” You sigh out, thinking about the harsh words he always uses for himself as you watch him continue working on the wood pile. His beard has grown out and frames his face beautifully, even with that spot that he can never seem to grow any hair on. You think he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever met, his treatment of you and the other girls only adds to it. He’s so...soft. So soft for someone so tough and rough.

“He is handsome, but you’re a little biased, Y/N. What’s the saying about saving a horse?” Karen titters.

“Ride a cowboy!” Tilly and Mary-Beth say it so loudly that you’re immediately shushing them, embarrassment flooding through you. As you catch Arthur once again turning in your direction, brow furrowed as he looks at your group. His hand reaches up to scratch as his beard and part of you wants the ground to swallow you entirely whole.

“I...Get your minds out of the gutter!”

“Only if you get yours out first!”

“I...I.” You huff, returning to your abandoned washing, scrubbing one of Arthur’s shirts with a new vigour that you didn’t know you had in you. They giggle behind you before walking off to the washing line to hang clean clothes up to dry.

You have to admit that your thoughts about Arthur tend to stray to the impure, especially at night when your mind is left to wander. He’s just so broad, so goddamn big and everything about him makes you want to wrap yourself around him like an alligator doing a death roll. Coming from a more high society lifestyle before finding the gang you’re not as comfortable with those thoughts as the other girls seem to be. There’s always that nagging thought in the back of your head that something’s wrong with you for lusting after him. That it’s not what a proper lady would do. But, he makes your heart ache desperately whenever you think of him. He makes your body warm and your lips ache for his. It’s not even just his body, it’s just him. You’re always longing for his company, eager to see him return from a job or a hunt just to hear his southern drawl wash over you with sweet kindness.

“Are you sure you’re alright, darlin’?” You jump at the drawl, his deep voice unexpected. He’s abandoned his wood cutting, crouching down next to you. The frown speaks of his concern and you can’t help but smile softly at how much he cares about everyone including yourself.

“It’s nothing, Arthur. Don’t you worry about me.” You assure him, your eyes fixed on the shirt in your tub that is more than clean by now after your aggressive scrubbing. You finally managed to get that damn bloodstain out.

A hand reaches under your jaw and gently grabs your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his. It has a shuddering breath leave your lungs before you can stop it, the look that crosses his face goes from concern to confusion to understanding and flirtation as he realises just why you’ve let that breath out. Just why the girls were teasing you.

“I always worry ‘bout you, sweetheart. Especially in this heat. Wouldn’t wan’ you to keel over now, all hot and bothered as y’are.” HIs thumb finds the hollow underneath your jaw and you can’t help but lean into his touch just a little bit more.

“Seems I should be the one concerned for you, Mr. Morgan. What with you working up a sweat on a hot day like today.” Your voice is breathy and you feel a tinge of shame at how little composure you seem to be able to keep around this man.

“Well I th-” His advance closer to you is stopped, his words halt as Dutch yells from somewhere in the vicinity of his tent, “Arthur! I got a job for you, boy!”

With a heavy sigh and one last gentle swipe of his thumb under your jaw, Arthur pulls away from you.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Always.” You reply watching him walk away, disappointed but not sure what you were expecting to happen. Were you hoping he’d kiss you? Were you hoping it would escalate further? That this burning in your stomach would find some relief, that your dreams would not be pure imagination anymore but have some basis in fact.

You sit back on your heels with a heavy breath, eyes turning towards the washtub again. Back to work, you suppose. Like always.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #readerinsert #reader insert #female reader

202 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Nine

Summary: Javier struggles in the hospital, but some of the symptoms are more somatic than physiological. He’s released, and the two of you have your first official date.

W/C: 4.2k (it just keeps getting longer... chapter 10 is 6k+)

Warnings: language, mentions of injuries, Javier used to be an asshole but he’s baby now, some innuendo/sexual flirting, brief mentions of food and alcohol

A/N: This chapter was actually hard to write! I had clear visions for 8 and 10 but didn’t have one for nine. Nevertheless, I really liked the way this turned out! I’ll post some sappy shit with chapter 10 but please know I love u all for reading and sticking around- it makes my little heart so happy that u guys love these two like I do <3

previous chapter | next chapter

Sleep is not easy when you have a massive stab wound in your abdomen. Javier hardly slept to begin with, but this makes it even harder. You tried offering sedatives but he harshly refused. You ordered dark and quiet for his room, but his sleep schedule was so helter-skelter before the accident that it was of no use to even try to fix it now. He can’t adapt when he’s not even in his own bed, he argues with you. Too damn bad, you tell him in return.

The only time Javier could sleep, it seems, is with you in the room. Specifically, in his arms.

It’s not that he thinks he’s unsafe. Hell, a hospital is the safest place he can be. It’s not that he fears passing in his sleep; he knows he won’t bleed out at this point. No, he just can’t sleep unless he has the comfort of a warm body wrapped up next to him. Specifically, the woman he loves.

You stand in the doorway with your hands on your hips. “Javier. I’m working.”

“This is specialized therapy for a patient,” he offers, persuasive as ever.

“I can and will get the opiates,” you threaten. “You can’t stay awake forever, and we both know that.”

“Ángel. I just… need the security.” He looks desperate. His eyes are tired. He’s slept very little in the past few days, leaving him agitated and restless. “The only time I’ve slept well in here was when you were with me.”

You pout a little. It’s adorable, you must admit, and most of all, it’s true. You and other nurses have been catering to him around the clock, since he only sleeps an hour here or there.

Sighing, you look at him. Your eyes are tired too. You’ve slept only when he sleeps, which is barely anything. You’re working on the floor or in his room with him. “Let me go talk with Connie, cariño. I’ll see what I can do.”

You walk into the break room with tired eyes. “Listen, ladies.” Both Connie and Lorena are sitting at a table, eating something. “Javier isn’t sleeping. He asked for me to stay in there with him to get some rest. It’s the only way it’s helped so far. Would you two cover my rotation? Just for tonight?”

Lorena’s large eyes sadden, and she nods. “Por supuesto. Anything you need, love.”

Connie’s not as enthused, but she nods. “You’re lucky this floor is dead empty.” It’s all too easy to imagine this was happening to Steve instead of Javi. That’s what makes her cave.

You sigh in relief. You take a quick shower then return to Javier’s room in a pair of clean scrubs. He smiles a little. “Hey.”

“Hi. You hungry?” You ask, walking to his bedside and taking his hand.

He shakes his head. “Just tired.”

You smile softly. “Well, you’re in luck. Connie and Lorena are angels.”

“No, you’re my angel,” he says with a teasing smile on his face.

“Well they’re mine. You’re the devil on my shoulder,” you laugh quietly and sit on the edge of his bed. He chuckles and pulls you into him, and you snuggle in against him, your eyes slipping shut. He murmurs affirmations of his love for you into your hair as he falls asleep.

And that’s how Javier sleeps for the next few nights. Bits and pieces during the day, but only restfully when you’re in his arms.

The rest of Javier’s stay in the hospital is uneventful. He’s a model patient for you and the other women. He apologizes to Lorena for his outburst under the influence too.

“Ángel,” Javier calls as you try to leave the bed and takes your hand.

“Yeah, cariño?” You ask and sit on the edge of his bed, pushing his dark hair from his forehead. The name makes him feel warm and tingly inside. Pet names from women who mean it are all too rare to him.

“I… should tell you about Lorraine.”

“You don’t have to, Javi,” you shake your head and cup his face softly.

“No, I really should,” he protests, and you nod.

“She was my high school sweetheart. We both went to college and came back and fell in love again.” You nod along to the story, watching his facial expressions. He looks far away, like his mind is back in Laredo. “We were engaged. I proposed and everything, did the whole damn thing.”

“What happened?” You ask softly.

His eyes don’t meet yours. “I got cold feet. I… left her at the altar,” he admits. He’s terrified you’ll run out the door now. It’s not an easy decision, to run away from a life you’re about to lead. It’s even worse when you know what that whole church, full of people, will think. But he did it anyway, and he’s scared you’ll never look at him the same way.

You swallow hard. It’s not what you’re expecting him to say, but you have to admit that it does sound in-character for the man. “And how long ago was that, Javi?”

He looks back up at you. “Jesus. 15 years now maybe.”

You nod, giving him a gentle smile. “Time changes people. You know that. I know that. Your past is the past, love.” You press a brief and sweet kiss to his lips. “I love you, Javier. Don’t you ever forget it.”

You stand and leave his room.

Goddamn, Javier thinks. You really are an angel. You must be, to have that response to what he just told you.

Several days after the injury, Javier is discharged from the hospital.

Despite his rage and arguing, the embassy refused to clear Javier for work. He was to be placed on a brief leave to heal and return when he was up to walking on his own again, without some kind of balance or assistance. Steve agreed to bring Javier some things to work on every night after returning from the office. Javier is already a restless man, and neither you nor the Murphys want to find out what happens when he’s bored all day, his best friend and his girlfriend both too busy to be around. Besides, a deep dive into some cases couldn’t hurt, he argues, and Steve relents. You and Connie take on the responsibility of checking up on him at least once a day- usually her more so than you, due to the fact that she lived directly above him- and of running any errands he may need, for things like food or medication.

As you wheel Javier from his hospital room out to the Murphys’ car, you realize you don’t have his phone number, nor does he have yours. You stop the wheelchair in the hallway and grab a pen from a nearby table. “I know it’s kind of unprofessional to give a patient my phone number,” you chuckle and squat to his seated height, “but I really think you’re cute,” you flirt as you write your phone number on his hand with a permanent marker.

You hand him the pen and Javier grins, his neatly-trimmed mustache (courtesy of Steve’s steady hands) moving with his cheeks. “You’re lucky that I think you’re cute too or I’d be telling your supervisors,” he laughs and steals a kiss before writing his phone number down on the back of your skin.

“It’s kind of weird,” you admit as the thick felt tip brushes against your skin, “that I’ve told you I love you and I don’t even know your phone number.”

Javier chuckles and caps the pen. He holds up your hand and raises an eyebrow. “Now you do.”

Three days pass, and Connie gives you updates on his condition whenever she sees you. He’s still in a lot of pain, but he’s lucky he was strong beforehand. You know that for a fact, and it hurts your heart to picture those beautiful abs you caught a glimpse of not too long ago marred by a scar he’ll surely have.

As you get home from a shift, you sigh and plop down on the couch. It’s late, you notice, but you miss Javier. Knowing him, he’s probably awake; you’re sure his sleep schedule is still as terrible as it was before the hospital. You grab the phone from the end table next to your spot, dialing his number and waiting.

Javier picks up on the second ring. Of course he’s awake. “Peña,” a gruff voice answers. It makes you smile. For a second, you want to just continue on without him knowing it’s you, want to observe how he acts when he’s with others. He’s different around you, you know that, and it’s adorable, you have to admit. “Hello?” he asks, annoyed.

“Hi,” you laugh softly through the phone. “It’s me. Sorry, I just got distracted. You sound sexy when your voice is like that,” you tease him.

There’s a smile in his voice when he responds. “Not a problem. How are you, hermosa?” he asks.

“I should be asking you that, Superman,” you laugh softly, leaning back against the couch. His voice instantly puts you at ease.

Javier laughs too. “Superman?”

“Big, strong. My protector.”

“Says the one who literally saved my life.”

“Who’s to say that cold wouldn’t have killed me if you didn’t take me to that diner?”

“Me.”

“I’m the nurse here.”

“And I’m Superman, apparently.” You laugh at that, wanting to reach through the phone line and kiss him then and there. “I’m no Superman, hermosa. I do bad things.”

“We all do, Javi.”

“Not as bad as me.”

“Gotta do bad things to catch bad people. You told me that. Are you trying to be this difficult, or does it just come naturally to you?” You ask sarcastically, smiling into the phone.

“I’m just telling you I’m not actually a good guy,” Javier says, his slight frustration evident.

“I was never under the impression you were. Is this you trying to push me away?” You ask, knowing that’s not the answer but hoping it’ll put some sense into him.

“No, no, cariño, I just-”

“Good, because we’re having our first official date tomorrow night. Okay?”

Javier chuckles a little at that. “I’m homebound. I appreciate the offer, but-”

“Oh no, Superman. I’m coming to you,” you tell him, curling up into a ball and grinning. “I’m getting takeout and wine- or whiskey, if you’d prefer- and we’re having a date night at your place. What do you want for dinner? You’ve got to be craving something.”

This takes Javier aback. This certainly wasn’t something he expected you to say when you picked up. “Uh… no. Nothing comes to mind. And I’m more of a whiskey guy, but wine sounds more romantic, I suppose.”

“Then I’ll pick up something that goes well with wine,” you say with a nod, beaming. “And I’m going to be tired after my shift, so you better be in the mood to cuddle.”

A laugh rings through the phone. “Of course you want to cuddle.”

“Says the one who asked me to snuggle him to sleep.”

“Hey, I almost bled out.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the one who asked.”

You’re both quiet for a moment. “Javi?”

“Yes, hermosa?”

Your voice is quiet and shy when you finally speak again. “Are you my boyfriend now?”

He grins, even though you can’t see it. “I don’t see why not.”

“Well, I like that, but we haven’t even had our first date.”

You can feel Javier rolls his eyes through the phone, but he’s clearly smiling when he speaks again. “Wouldn’t you consider that morning at the diner our first date?” He asks you, his face lighting up at the memory of it.

“No,” you shake your head. “I think we need to say it’s officially a date before it happens, then it can be a date.”

“I’m not going to be a very interesting date. I do have a large stab wound in my abs right now.”

“Don’t question my taste in men, Peña.”

“Trust me, I’m not. Do you want to dress up nice?” he asks. “A pretend night out?”

You grin at that. “That sounds wonderful,” you nod and rest your head on the pillows behind you, looking dreamily up at the ceiling.

“Better yet, I’ll cook for you.”

“Why do I have a feeling your cooking features microwave cuisine?”

“First of all, that’s not fully true,” he laughs. “And second of all, at least let me pay for dinner.”

“Giving up that easily? Superman may have to have his title revoked.”

“No, you were just right. I’m not a great cook; takeout would be the best bet.”

“I’ll pay and you can pay me back by looking cute for me.”

“Is this how women feel when men are demeaning?” He teases.

“You got it,” you groan.

Javier sighs. “Don’t know how you do it. How was your day?” he asks, leaning back on his own couch, slipping a hand in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Long. My back hurts,” you admit, hugging the pillow to your chest. “The hospital is much more boring when I don’t get to sneak kisses from a hot patient.”

“I would assume so.”

“Got anything interesting in those case files?”

“I think Steve pulled out a box from ‘79 and handed it over just to appease me. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“You’re supposed to be on leave. Do leave things.”

“Like what? You’re gone all day, so is Steve. There are my two options.”

“Javi,” you coo softly. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No, you are! You don’t even know what to do with your life. When was your last day off that you didn’t spend nursing a hangover?” There’s a beat of silence. “Exactly. Watch some telenovelas, read a book, pick up a hobby.”

“I have hobbies,” he pouts.

“Besides drinking, smoking, and fucking. I know your reputation,” you tease.

He’s silent and shy when his voice returns. “Did you-“

“I’ve known that the whole time, Superman. You think Connie didn’t spill everything the first time I asked her about you?” You chuckle softly. “No, I know about you. I don’t mind at all. It’s kinda hot,” you tease.

“Hey now, don’t start what you can’t finish. I’m not gonna be in shape for anything for a while.”

You bite your lip, deciding between flirting back harder or leaving it alone. You decide to leave it. “I’m not,” you chuckle. “I just think everything about you is attractive.”

“Even my giant stab wound?”

“Especially. If that’s what it took for you to admit you love me,” you laugh softly, and you hear him laughing on the other end.

“You should get some sleep, cariño,” Javi says in a softening voice. “It’s late, and you said your back hurts.”

“I will. I just… couldn’t sleep without knowing how you’re doing. I’m glad it’s good.” You smile softly at the way his voice sounds through the phone. “I’ll be looking forward to tomorrow night all day at work.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it here.”

“Goodnight Javi,” you tell him. “I love you.”

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he tells you in return. “I love you too.” He hangs up quickly after saying that, before he can change his mind and stay on the phone with you for hours more.

As you leave the hospital the next day, your best friend’s voice rings out after you. “Use a condom!” Lorena shouts before falling into a fit of giggles.

“You’re the worst.”

“No, an unplanned pregnancy would be the worst,” she teases and nudges your side. “Be safe!”

“Fuck you,” you mutter to her in English, but there’s a smile on your face as you leave the hospital.

“No, fuck Javi instead!”

“Goddamnit, Lori!”

The walk home is uneventful, as normal, but the sun is just about to start setting over Bogotá. It’s beautiful, you think to yourself, and you admire the skyline as you walk back to your apartment.

Once you get inside, you head to your bathroom and sigh as you look in the mirror. You’re tired, it’s evident, but your eyes hold your excitement. Turning on a cassette player in your living room, you dance and sing along to it in the bathroom as you do your makeup and style your hair. Both are simply done, but make you feel a little more confident, a little more elegant for your night in with Javier.

You dance along to the music and make your way into your bedroom. You change out of your scrubs and into the outfit you chose last night, in a rush of excitement after talking with Javier on the phone. It’s your favorite dress you wear when you’re going out, not that it’s often, one that makes you feel fantastic about yourself. You look in the mirror and have to admit, you look damn good.

After you twirl in the mirror a little, you pick up the phone and dial Javier.

The familiar greeting fills your ears. “Peña.”

“Hey, Javi,” you practically sing. “I’m leaving my place now, I’ll pick up the food and be over. Leave the door unlocked, that way you don’t have to get up and let me in, okay?”

Javier chuckles. “Yes ma’am. I’ll see you then.”

He hangs up and you grab your purse and a jacket, wrapping it tight around yourself as you leave your apartment building and head out to a nearby restaurant.

After the food is ready, you carry it in one hand, smiling to yourself as you walk the rest of the way to Javier’s. It’s closer than you ever knew, and it makes you smile even wider knowing that there’s only ever a short distance between you and him. The sun is now setting, casting everything in a warm glow.

Once you reach his apartment, you get hit by a wave of nerves. Impulsively, you climb the extra stairs and knock on the Murphys’ front door.

No response comes, surprisingly. Rather than continuing to knock, you get your courage up and go back downstairs, knocking on Javier’s door and letting yourself in.

Javier is at his kitchen table already, which is nicely set and even has a candle burning on top of it. He looks up when he hears you and smiles, and you immediately smile back. He’s wearing a long-sleeved, nice shirt and a tie, the shirt cuffed to his elbows. His hair, which has been messy nearly every time you’ve seen him, is neatly styled too. He looks professional, and it makes you giggle a little.

He takes a second to take in the sight of you too, his eyes raking all the way up your body until his eyes meet yours. “You look great, cariño,” he tells you with a little smirk, and you walk closer and set the food down on the table.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You look very formal.”

“This is what I wear to work,” he admits and tilts his head to the side.

“Then I’m going to have to come visit you at the embassy some time,” you tell him and kiss him on the lips, for the first real time since the hospital. There’s silence between the two of you and you can hear a rhythmic knocking noise coming from somewhere-

You break away and your eyes widen, giggling. There’s a loud creaking sound that accompanied the pounding. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?” Javi asks, but then the noise reaches his ears.

You have to cover your mouth to hold back a laugh. “I have to admit, I went upstairs to ask Connie for advice before I came down here… I guess I know why no one answered,” you snort before you hear a uniquely feminine groan, and both you and Javier start laughing uncontrollably, falling into each other.

You bury your face in his shoulder laughing, then quickly remove it, forgetting you were wearing makeup. “Oh god, do you have a radio or something we can turn on to cover that up?” You as him, still giggling.

“Yeah, come on,” he says and leans on you for balance as the two of you walk to his kitchen. There’s a radio on top of his fridge, and he turns it onto the American station in town. You smile at the memory of first meeting him while this was playing. Some slow jam from a few years ago is on, and Javier cranks the dial to adjust the volume until you can no longer hear the Murphys and their activity upstairs.

The sun shines its last rays into the kitchen, casting an orange glow over both you and Javi. He looks down at you and swears he can see exactly what he’s feeling reflected in your eyes. Your eyes hold such kindness and depth and unconditional regard for him, and it makes him want to gather you in his arms and never let you go again, never let either of you ever leave this apartment and this moment. Javier has never been one for words, choosing mainly to express his feelings through the patterns of his hips against a woman’s, but he tries in this moment, just for you. “You… have gorgeous eyes,” he tells you softly, and you giggle and shyly look away. “Really,” he says, catching your chin in his hand and bringing your face back to look at him. “So beautiful. All of you, especially tonight.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, gazing up into those big brown eyes and kissing him quickly. “Care to dance?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Javi chuckles a little and puts his arms around your waist in return. “Why not?” He asks, sneaking another gentle kiss before swaying the two of you around his kitchen. You rest your head in the curve of his neck and he smiles at the feeling, pressing a kiss to your head. He’s not a great singer, he knows that, but he mumble-sings the lyrics to you. You can feel his chest vibrate from his voice, and you sigh, pressing a kiss into his skin before resting your head on his shoulder again.

The song ends a few moments later and there’s a bit of dead air on the radio. No sound comes from upstairs and you lift your head, laughing a little. “Well, now that that’s all done… shall we eat?” You ask, and Javier nods, sneaking one last kiss from your lips.

The night ends with you and Javier cuddled on the couch. It’s late, and you’re watching his VHS tapes of old American movies. You’re snuggled into his side when he nudges your face with his neck. “Aren’t you uncomfortable in your dress?” He asks.

“What, are you trying to get me naked?” You tease quietly.

“No. Just want you comfy,” he murmurs, half asleep. You have to admit you’re tired too. “I have a proposal.”

“Yes I’ll marry you,” you laugh jokingly.

“Not like that,” he rolls his eyes. “Help me to my bed. You can wear some of my clothes. Sleep here tonight.”

You smile a little. “Is this your way of saying you can’t sleep without me anymore?”

“Sleeping alone is shitty once I got a taste of you,” he says with a charming smile.

“Alright Romeo,” you tease and kiss his lips gently. “I like that idea though. Let’s do it.” You stand from his arms, offering him a hand. He takes it and stands with a groan.

You help Javier to his bedroom, holding him up as a crutch and a balance. Javier’s tie was long discarded, after the two of you ate dinner. He strips the dress shirt and pants from his body, leaving him in just his boxers and a plain white shirt. He heads to his dresser and pulls out a large t-shirt for you.

You take it from him and kiss his cheek. He closes his eyes as you unzip your dress. “You’re allowed to look,” you murmur teasingly next to his ear. His eyes fly open and watch you hungrily, the way you’re exposed in just a bra and panties.

“Mi ángel,” he mumbles, his hands on your sides. He looks down at your body before finding your eyes again and smiling softly. He kisses you gently. “I know I have a bad reputation. You know I love you for more than your body, right?”

You nod, your arms around his neck. “Of course I do, Javi. We haven’t even fucked yet.”

He nods. “Just… checking.” This is all so new for him, and you can tell. You kiss him tenderly for a moment before pulling on the big t-shirt and flopping on his bed.

“Now get in here and cuddle me, Superman.”

“Of course, cariño,” he laughs, sliding under the covers and kissing the side of your face.

translations:

por supuesto- of course

hey taglist, come get y’all juice

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @diogodxlot @wonderlandgabby @yooforia @sara-alonso @dodgerandevans @pedrosmustache @fruit-of-my-hoechloins @tanyaherondale @marydjarin @obsessivelysearching @sleep-tight1 @drinkingwhileblogging

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña x reader #javi peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #blood sweat and tears #pascalpanic

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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

“let me do this for you. please.” ; aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner (criminal minds) x reader

summary: it’s left to you to help aaron with his injury. taken from this prompt list - 1781 words

a/n: this is kind of shitty trash but i wanted to add to the one hotch fic ive written

Aaron Hotchner, in all his glory, is more often than not described as strict. Maybe even grumpy.

It takes less than one conversation with the unit chief to fully understand this, sometimes all it takes is witnessing the way he walks and holds himself, and he’s become somewhat notorious for it.

However, you know more about Hotch than the average person. More than either of you care to admit. For a while you were certain he hated you, definitely didn’t trust you, despite being highly trained and told again and again by your team that that’s just how Hotch is. Emily, especially, pulled you aside to tell you she was also victim to his cold persona at the beginning.

It takes time, she’d said, but he’ll warm up to you. He won’t be able to resist.

It all changed when he appeared at your apartment door several hours after you’d been discharged from the hospital following a gnarly gunshot wound to your shoulder. He stood there, with his famous furrowed brows, straight-mouth look on his face, cradling a basket. He’d made you a ‘get well soon’ package – your favourite candy (he knew that?), some DVDs (including your favourite – he knew that?), and his favourite book (written by your favourite author). There were fluffy socks and a colouring book, too.

“I couldn’t visit you in the hospital,” He’d said, “So Jack and I made you a gift basket. He chose the colouring book.”

In your stunned silence you didn’t ask any further questions, just took the present and contemplated getting shot again in hopes he would pay another visit, maybe come inside. Maybe fall in love with you. You’re not picky.

That night you realised your unit chief doesn’t hate you and you definitely don’t hate your unit chief.

Now, almost a year later, there’s been some big changes. You’re pushing Aaron onto his bed as he grips the top of his bleeding forearm; he’s mumbling curses under his breath while pouting – yes, pouting, no matter how much he’ll deny it when you tease him about it later. It had taken you raising your voice at him to convince him to let you help at all, let alone clean the cut, so you allow his brooding.

When you sit on your heels of his bedroom floor in front of him, he instinctively opens his mouth to, once again, say something along the lines of, “You don’t have to do this,” or “I can look after myself.”

You interrupt before he can even begin.

“If you refuse to go to the hospital, refuse to let an on-site medic come to you, you’re gonna let me help you, you got that?” You snap, fuelled by worry and frustration.

On the scene he’d refused medical attention, telling the medics to focus on the victims which, fair enough, was valid. But then Rossi had tried to drive him to the hospital, to get stitched up because anyone could see the cut on his arm needed it, and he’d argued and argued to the point where Rossi shoved him into your car and said, “You take him. He’s being a child and I am too old for this.”

He kept telling you to just drop him off home and he’ll be fine, but you couldn’t do that. You have a medical background; you’ve stitched up everyone on the team at least once, excluding Hotch, and you’ll get peace of mind if you do the job and know he’s okay.

You followed him inside, he kept telling you to go home because he’s fully capable, and you kept telling him to shut up. Now you’re here.

Aaron says nothing in return – just stares into your eyes and maintains a tight, strained posture.

You recognise the look in his eyes, then. Everything clicks into place in your head and your heart hurts slightly.

“Let me do this for you. Please.”

Aaron is a leader. A protector. He always has been. He trusts his team with his life, of course he does, but he’s also stubborn. The idea of anyone, let alone the one person who’s somehow wormed their way into his life in a way he hadn’t prepared for, seeing him so vulnerable after a stupid mistake led to an even stupider injury is downright humiliating for him.

He’s embarrassed. He hoped he could sulk home, drink a little too much whiskey as he clumsily cleaned himself up, and move on like nothing happened.

But it’s you, all non-judgemental eyes and worried tone with your caring and reassuring words. You’re too good for him. You’re too good to him.

You work slowly and gently, in a very you way, and Hotch watches closely the entire time. You assume he’s watching so he can do it himself next time, can use this as an excuse for you to not do this ever again, but a part of you wonders if he still doesn’t trust you.

He sits patiently, until he realises how much blood he’s lost and starts to feel woozy. It’s very possible he has a concussion, too, along with the exhaustion from not sleeping for at least twenty four hours. His head feels like it’s swimming and his vision gets a little blurry.

You notice him swaying and stop what you’re doing to hold his biceps to steady him. His eyes almost roll, but he seems to jolt himself out of it. Aaron has this disturbing ability to act as if nothing bad is happening – for example, right now. The blood loss is alarming, he just almost passed out, but it’s like he flicks a switch in his brain that decides nah, let’s not do that.

“You okay?” You ask, voice quiet.

He nods and mumbles, “Yeah. Brain almost collapsed.”

You think that’s an attempt at a joke. You’re too concerned to laugh, even fake it, and slowly move your arms back to the med kit you’re rifling through.

“Brain dumb.” He adds.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. Aaron surprises himself by wanting to cry at how beautiful you look.

“My name’s Aaron. You should call me it.”

You laugh quietly – the blood loss is beginning to get to him and he’s losing his professional barrier. The barrier that he lets down rarely, usually only when he’s in the comfort of his home, maybe relaxing with you and Jack. This is a special version of that, amplified by his injury.

“I’ll call you Aaron, then.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.”

He goes back to watching you, contentment coming off him in waves.

You’re done a few minutes later, Aaron’s cut all cleaned and stitched up. You wrap it in gauze and move the med kit aside, standing before him and sighing, hands on your hips.

“Alright. Bed time.” You say.

Aaron flops back on his bed, arms spread – it makes you giggle. It reminds you of the one time you had to bring drunk Hotch home.

“Move up, Aaron. Against your headboard.” You command.

As he moves, you grab some of the pillows he doesn’t use and place them under his legs to elevate them. You go to his ensuite and fill a glass of water, placing it on his bedside table, and look at the handsome unit chief seemingly asleep. You lean in closer to get a look at his condition – is he pale, cold, clammy?

His eyes snap open. You jump back in shock.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” His voice is rough, he’d almost fallen asleep, and his dimples begin to show when he smiles at your surprise.

“I’ll always take care of you, Aaron.” You say instantly, trying to fluff the pillow behind his head. You don’t realise what you do to him, he thinks, or what the things you say do to him.

“Let me take care of you, too.”

You smile, ignorant to the way he’s looking at you, “You do take care of me. You take great care of the whole team, A. You’re kind of amazing at it.”

You move to tuck him in, like you’ve watched him do to Jack many times.

“I mean-“ He stops you, large hands holding your wrists, “Let me take care of you. No one else.”

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Me, Aaron, take care of you, Y/N.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I can take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh at the situation, the ridiculousness of how you’re going in circles, “I just told you that you take great care of me.”

He lets out a deep breath in exasperation, “Let me take care of you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds sexual, sir.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t mean it-“ He cuts himself off, “I mean, yes, but no, at the same time.”

You open your mouth to say What?!

“I’m trying to ask you out, Y/N.”

Oh.

You’re stunned, to say the least, and speechless. There’s nothing more you’d like than to go on a date with him, but he’s… vulnerable right now. Fragile. You’re not sure he’s in the right state of mind for this conversation.

Hotch senses your hesitation before you even register it yourself. He begins to backtrack.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s inappropriate-“

“Aaron.”

“Yes?” Despite the look on your face, filled with doubt, he’s still hopeful.

“I would really like to go on a date with you.” He smiles at that. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re concussed AND you’re exhausted. I can’t take what you say now as, like, gospel.”

He nod as if he understands, but the concoction of ailments he’s got going on make him incapable of truly recognising what’s going on. All he knows is that you said you’d really like to go out with him, and that’s good enough for him.

“Say this again tomorrow and I promise you I’ll make it worth your while,” You grin, now smoothing his hair away from his face as he blinks slowly at you.

“Make it worth my while, huh?” He sleepily smirks, a teasing lilt to his voice. If he wasn’t on the brink of sleep you’re sure he’d look too good for you to handle, but now he just looks adorable.

“Oh yeah. So worth it.”

“Alright then. Night night. You can kiss me on the forehead, if you feel so inclined,”

You roll your eyes and give a big sigh jokingly, “Only because you’re injured.”

You lean, give a quick peck to his forehead, and his dazed gaze follows you like a magnet.

“See you tomorrow, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #i think i hate this #im not sure

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sakurabutterflyart · 3 years

Text

Hugfia Week, Day 3 AU

The Princess and The Prince of Thieves

Sofia was known to be the Princess of Enchancia. She used to be a village girl in the village which is why she has a closer relationship with the villagers. Even if she's now the princess of Enchancia, she still enjoys being there.

As she grew older. Since she's not gonna be the heir of the throne, she'd decided to train as a protector of her kingdom. Just like her brother.

Nobody in her kingdom knows about it except her family and friends, cause she thinks that it's best to remain a secret. And it did.

When she was just having a secret patrol in her village and decided to go home with some ice cream, that's a bit far away from other houses. There are currently only few people since it's already closing. Which is a perfect opportunity for thieves to attack.

Sofia was about to eat her favorite flavored strawberry ice cream, she heard loud noises behind her. Before she could respond what's going on, she saw a guy with black hair and dark green eyes knock her out.

The thieves who are called Black Ice, have been known to be constantly stealing banks, restaurants, and shops. They are known to be the kingdom of thieves, for they can't be easily caught and it's been years but it's still an active thieves group. For they are being well trained and well strategize by their leader named Hugo, who hides behind the name the Ice Prince. For he is the prince of thieves. He used to be a beggar who was about to loose his life, since he still has his fellow brothers in the streets who needs to be fed. Which is why he has no choice but to live his life this way in order to provide all of them.

"Is everyone knocked out and tied." He asked his men.

"All down brother!" Desmond answered. Gently placing the citizen and checking the tied ropes to make sure no one's gonna go after them.

"Let's better hurry, before the village guards finds out we're here. We have to take something home for our guild." He ordered and everyone is taking the things that they will need. They were here for the money but Hugo thinks that he should take something special for his family and that is ice cream.

"Hey Hugo look!" Hugo heard his brother called, waving him to come.

He took off the cloak of the stranger I knocked out earlier, revealing she was a lady. She has soft white skin, She is wearing something like a hunter or a high position knight clothing that is very unusual for a girl to wear. Caramel brown hair that's tied into a ponytail. But what really stand out the most is her tiara and her pink amulet, that I can tell right away that this girl is the princess of Enchancia, Sofia.

"She's a princess Hugo, what are we gonna do?" Desmond ask, a little worried like we're in big trouble.

"What's with that tone Desmond? Isn't this a great thing? We can just hold her as hostage and demand the king for a fortune of money and treasures." Axel joined in, squeezing the knocked out princess's cheek.

Hugo's POV

"I don't think that's a great idea big brother. If we do that the king is gonna order all his soldier as they hunt down our home, including other kingdoms that is allied in Enchancia. It's best to leave her alone." I spoke, making sure the action we take don't get us into trouble.

I look at the princess who is out cold and I gotta admit, she's very pretty. I scanned her looks wondering why did someone from the castle go to the village and with this outfit?

"How about we'll take something expensive from this princess..." It seems like she brought nothing. The only thing I found valuable is her crown and her... "This necklace looks very expensive-"

I was about to grab it until I was surprised that a very strong grip stopped me. I look at the owner of the hand, it's not my brothers nor anyone around this room but the princess.

I looked at her as she got up, revealing her fierce ocean blue eyes burning in rage towards me. "Don't. You. Dare. Touch. My. Amulet. My father gave it to me, this is too precious!"

She speak in a low tone expressing anger, but before I can even react she punch my face that took me flying across the room to the walls. It must be her pay back for knocking her out earlier. I manage to stay conscious, when I looked at her amulet it was glowing revealing that it's magical.

While I'm still trying to get up. My brothers are going after her to stop her from attacking me. But she managed to spar them with her sword that seems to be magical, even her punch and kicks are strong to make someone fly. She even gets to shape shift into an animal that is strong, she can even fly as a fairy. As few minutes past, she manage to defeat all 50 thieves from the Black Ice.

"Now it's your turn." She pointed her sword towards me with anger on her eyes. It was threatening but I somehow find it attractive. She charge at me with full speed, and my brothers cried out in worries. I managed to draw out my weapon. Both of our sword clash that creates a strong wind.

We were glaring at each other and staring at each other's eyes. The longer I looked to her, her glares may be scary, but she was darn cute. I smirk at the thought that this lady is really... My type.

"You... You're this famous prince of thieves who leads the Black Ice." She grumbled, but it fails to scare me but it made me smile.

"Yep, the one and only Ice Prince. But you can all me Hugo my lady. And I'm guessing you're this famous Princess Sofia of Enchancia, the hero of this Kingdom." I get up and manage to recover from the pain of her punch. Giving a peck on her hand as greeting. She raised a brow, confuse at my response. "Even though you're known to be in dresses and staying at a castle, what are you doing here in this village?"

She pulled her hand away from mine, still glaring at me. "Don't be so casual to me Ice Prince! I've heard so many rumours about your recent attack through every villages, you've given so many problems in our kingdoms! I'm here to arrest you."

She spoke to her amulet, "Amulet, I called James to bring soldiers to the village's ice cream shop. The Black Ice are here..."

Her amulet glowed. As she continue to draw out her sword and charge after me.

Third POV

They were battling, their sparring took longer with Hugo flirting with her and teasing her. Until the fought ended with Sofia's sword skills and traping him to the ground.

Hugo's POV

"Hugo the Ice Prince and the leader of the Black Ice. You are under arrest for stealing shops and banks, kingdom to kingdom. You bring enough harm to all of us." She declared, pulling the collar of my shirt and pointing a sword to my throat.

Our face were so close and I can hear my heart is beating faster than ever before. It was a love at first sight with this girl, even though I never believe in those things and think it's a ridiculous way to fall in love. She's just so beautiful and strong, there's something about her that is so special when I look at those eyes. I just can't take it anymore.

I smirked at this beautiful sight and also pulling her collar towards me, before she could asked and form a sentence, I silenced her with my lips. I can her hear yelp in surprise between our kiss. She was trying to pull away by letting go of her sword and push me, but I also do the same with mine and hold her hands tightly. Deepening our kiss.

I have never thought of myself as being forceful to a lady before. I promised myself that even if I'm a thief I'll still keep my good side especially to a girl that I will like. But she's a different story, I'm a thief and she's a princess who's gonna arrest me, and I also don't wanna let her go.

After enjoying her touch, I finally let go and let her breath. She looked at me in shock.

"Sorry about that, you're just too cute princess" I smiled at her, and I can see her face slowly turning red in embarrassment. "If I'm really going to prison, then I will never regret kissing a strong pretty lady like you."

"Y-you.. you jerk!"

I winked but I met a very hard impact to my cheek, though it doesn't really hurt cause I really meant what I say to her.

She was gonna slap me with my other cheek, though this time I caught her hand and pull her closer, whispering through her ears with my lowest voice. "I like you, you're going to be my most precious treasure princess, you're mine now. I won't allow anybody, not even another prince to take you."

I let her go and we stare at each other. Her eyes looks confuse, not knowing what to respond. I sigh, as much as I wanted this moment to last forever, I can't afford me and my brothers nor my family to get arrested.

I snapped my finger and shouted, "Now Derek!"

The ceiling opened with our guild's magic. Revealing a bunch of dark carriages, I can see all of my guild mates, which is also my family, throwing rope ladders for my brother's to retreat to.

"What the! What's going on!" I can hear Sofia shout in anger.

I whistled with my fingers, loud enough for my horse Electra to come to me. I hop on her and look at the princess. She was about to charge me with her magic sword, but this time I manage to catch her sword with my magic.

"I'm called the Prince of Thieves for a reason Sofia, I use magic too and I never get captured that easily." I gave her a victorious smile, I can see her face looking very angry and also disappointed.

"You tricked me with those dirty moves and pick up lines. Is this what you use to any girls you fought with?" She ask, clearly disappointed being taken advantage of being girl.

I caress her face as I give a quick peck on her forehead, and patting her. To assure her. "Nope, you're the first lady that I ever treated this way. Even I don't expect to feel this way towards anyone."

Third POV

He smiled and suddenly flew away with his horse, when he saw the Commander James charging at them with arrows and chasing them down. "Stay away from my sister!"

As Hugo flew away, he smiled and shouted to her.

"Goodbye Princess, I'll see you again soon! If other prince tries to steal you away from me, I promise I'll steal you first!" He left, revealing he also steal her tiara. "If the amulet is too precious to you, I'll take this one instead dear! Goodbye for now my lady!"

He left and Sofia gritted her teeth, but she was completely flustered. She doesn't have the will to fight and go after them, leaving it to James. But they weren't able to catch them.

She was completely angry as she walk home with her brother, not being able to capture the greatest thief of the kingdom. She felt her heart tingling and beating just by thinking about him.

She felt dizzy at the feeling. She touched her lips, remembering the pressure he placed on her lips. Feeling frustrated about it.

"How dare he... Out of all people, why him?"

Not only did he steal her first kiss, he also steal her heart.

(A/N: This is from my wattpad. In Hugfia Week I'm a bit busy but I'll try joining in.)

#hugfiaweek21 #hugfia #sofia the first #disney couples #disney princesses #disney

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bard-llama · 3 years

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WiP Wednesday: Rorveth, Isendain, AND Thronebreaker Snippets + Some Headcanons

I couldn’t decide what to do for WiP Wednesday, so uh... have lots of stuff! We’ve got an Iorveth/Roche snippet, an Isengrim/Eldain snippet, a Throne3 (Meve/Reynard/Gascon) snippet AND a little bit about some Thronebreaker headcanons me and @moonlights-ordinance came up with today.

Iorveth/Roche:

This is the beginning of an angsty fic wherein Iorveth pines and finds out some unpleasant news. The actual plot of the fic is Iorveth trying to get rid of his feelings, but we’re not there yet.

Iorveth really should’ve known that this day was destined to be hellish the moment that he was jolted from his paperwork daze by the rambunctious shouts of his Scoia’tael outside his office. He sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face, then checking that his bandana covered his scar properly. Only after that did he open the door to see what was sowing chaos amidst his ranks.

No one… actually seemed to notice his presence, which to be frank, was not a problem Iorveth typically struggled with. He was quite good at appearing intimidating and infuriated even when he wasn’t particularly trying.

But it seemed his elves – and a few of the dwarves – were far too involved in their own gossip to notice him as he walked through the crowd.

“Have you heard–?”

“No way.”

“Guess he loved Temeria so much he married it!” someone chortled.

“Ha! From Cocksucker in Chief to Consort. He must be real good.”

A bout of cackling followed that last remark, and Iorveth had his first premonition that the day was going to suck. But he still didn’t have answers, so he walked straight forward into what would become his own personal hell.

In the center of the crowd, surrounded by countless elves and dwarves, Iorveth was not at all surprised to find his two favorite subordinates – who were rapidly losing that classification. He stepped up next to them, crossing his arms and waiting for them to notice the trouble they were in.

Really, he should have known it would be these two. Rinn, for all that she was nominally well-behaved and quiet, was extremely mischievous, especially when it had the potential to cause minor problems for Iorveth. He would not be surprised if she had planned this. Her companion, Ky, may have been more innocent in that she may not have intended to draw a crowd – but she was absolutely the one spreading the gossip far and wide.

It took a while, but slowly, the chattering grew quieter and quieter as more people took notice of his presence. Finally, Rinn caught sight of him and poked Ky, who was still loudly expounding on something about marriage.

“Something you need to tell me?” Iorveth asked, eyebrow arched high and disapproving scowl firmly in place.

Ky winced, but Rinn looked entirely unrepentant as she signed, the Temerian King made an official announcement today that I caught during my shift.

Iorveth looked at the way more than a few people were biting their lips and avoiding his eye and hummed. “And?”

“Roche is getting married!” Ky burst out as if she physically could not hold it back anymore and Iorveth felt everything freeze.

Married? Vernon Roche!? The erstwhile commander of the Blue Stripes and proud pain in Iorveth’s ass? Who the fuck would he be marrying and why would it be a royal announcement!?

Even though Iorveth himself still felt like he was encased in ice, time seemed to resume for everyone else and chattering rapidly commenced, elves whispering back and forth between themselves and each other.

What was it someone had said earlier? ‘From Cocksucker in Chief to Consort’?

Was… was Vernon marrying King Foltest!?

Rinn must have seen the question on his face, because she nodded and passed over a paper missive.

It felt like moving through molasses to extend his arm and accept the notice that would forever change his life.

The Ancient Royal Line of the Temerian Dynasty Announces the Wedding of

Foltest, King of Temeria, Prince of Sodden, Sovereign of Pontaria and Mahakam, and Senior Protectorate of Brugge and Sodden

and

Vernon Roche, Commander of the Elite Blue Stripes Special Forces Unit, Pacifier of the Mahakaman Foothills, and Right Hand to the King

to take place at the year’s end on the Winter Solstice

Iorveth stared at the announcement, static fizzing through his brain. Vernon. And Foltest. They were getting married!?

His eye shot up to meet Rinn’s almost imploringly, hoping this was all some big joke. But there was no mischief in her eyes, and her forehead creased with worry as she watched him, clearly wondering what was wrong.

She, at least, appeared to be the only one who had noticed anything amiss in his reaction. The rest of his Scoia’tael were back to loudly gossiping about their enemy’s new status in life.

“Wait, I thought human men couldn’t get pregnant. Isn’t the whole point of a royal marriage to produce an heir?”

“Nah, I’ve heard the whore has a cunt,” someone laughed. “Can you imagine only having one? Sounds lame as fuck. But yeah, supposedly our dearest Commander Roche can make royal babies for King Fuckface.”

Iorveth’s heartbeat stuttered and he inhaled sharply through his nose. He… hadn’t known that. Sure, he’d heard rumors, but the rumors about Vernon were wild and extreme and ranged from his background as a whore to his imaginary sideline in child abduction to his preference for blunt force weapons.

Was this one… true? As he looked back at Rinn for the answer – aside from being the primary spy assigned to Vernon, she also seemed to just inexplicably know things – he could hear the conversation around him moving on.

“Hey, do you think that’s why they’re getting married? Maybe the idiot king knocked up his whore and now he’s gotta marry him!”

“I dunno, did Roche look pregnant at our last fight?”

Rinn nodded the slightest bit and Iorveth brain returned to static. Vernon. Pregnant. That – he hadn’t been aware that that was something he was emotionally invested in, but the storm of feelings racing through his veins proved that he was. He wanted – he wanted to see that, wanted to cause that, wanted to discover what Vernon’s cunt would be like and feel it stretched around him and–

He’d – he’d always assumed that Vernon had a cock, even though he wasn’t quite sure what a human cock looked like. But whenever he’d picture a different future – one where he could choose his own happiness over his cause – it hadn’t mattered that he didn’t know what a human cock looked like. His imagination was more than delighted to fill in whatever he wished, and coming up with different ideas was all that got him through the night at times.

The idea of Vernon with a cunt was startling. It had never occurred to him before, and now he wondered how he could’ve possibly been so shortsighted. The things that he could do with Vernon’s cunt were limitless and Iorveth’s mind got stuck on that for probably far too long.

He was brought out of his daze by Rinn choking, wide eyes locked on his face. With sudden dread, he understood what she must have seen. What she must have realized.

Iorveth swallowed hard, jerking his head, “give me a proper report.” He turned to head back to his office without looking at her and he wasn’t sure if he was hoping she’d follow or that she wouldn’t.

(the rest under a cut to save your dash)

Isengrim/Eldain:

This is a fluffy bit from a get together fic set post-Reasons of State and we start with Isengrim mourning Dijkstra and Dijkstra’s betrayal.

There was a knock on his door and then Eldain’s voice spoke. “Isengrim? Um. I know you aren’t feeling great, but would you come with me for a bit?’

All of a sudden, then blankness fled under a wave of confusion and curiosity. “What?”

“I – um. I have something for you. But you gotta come with me for a bit. And if you don’t like it, I promise I will not get in the way of your grief, even if that means hiding out in here.”

Eldain sounded nervous, of all things. Isengrim hadn’t actually known Eldain was capable of feeling nervous.

Why was he nervous?

Isengrim frowned at the door. He wasn’t exactly going to get an answer lying here. And maybe Eldain could keep him from thinking about Sigi and all the pain associated with him for a bit.

It was worth a shot. Besides, he’d come to rather like the other ex-commander quite a bit over the course of working together. Not that they hadn’t worked together before, but there had always been a formality dividing them. Eldain looked up to him, he knew that. Not that Eldain would ever say it, but it was the way Eldain looked at him. A soft regard that one could almost mistake for love, but was truly nothing more than hero worship. He’d seen the same look on the faces of all the young Scoia’tael, but from Eldain, it felt like the thorn of a rose – he hated it, knowing that Eldain would never feel the same, that he was destined to die alone and miserable and a beautiful young musician like Eldain could never be his. But at the same time, he coveted it, coveted Eldain’s regard, because even if it wasn’t what he wanted, it was something.

He would give anything to have Eldain in his life in any form.

Swallowing hard, Isengrim rubbed his face, then opened the door.

Eldain was on the other side of the door and his shoulders were slumped in defeat that quickly turned to confusion, one shoulder cocking upwards.

“What?” Isengrim asked.

“I – no, I just. Thought you’d say no,” Eldain said awkwardly.

“Does that mean you do want me to go with you somewhere or not?”

“Yeah!” Eldain shook himself, smiling at Isengrim, and it felt as though the sun had emerged from cloud cover, because instead of the nothingness-pain from before, now he felt – too much, really. And some of it hurt, but more of it was pleased to just bask in the rays of Eldain’s smile.

He was only half aware of following Eldain through the house, still a little dazed from the blinding light. But when Eldain came to a stop in front of a closed door, the world seemed to snap back into focus, and he looked to Eldain expectantly.

Eldain fidgeted, feet shuffling. “Um. Like – like I said, if you don’t like it, I won’t force you to stay, but um–” his adam’s apple bobbed and then Eldain opened the door and motioned for Isengrim to enter.

Isengrim took two steps through the doorway and froze. All around him, the room was lit up with dozens of little lights – some up high, some down low, others around his hips. Those ones on the floor guided him towards what looked like a raggedy old blanket draped over the wooden flooring.

“It’s not exactly a starlit picnic,” Eldain shrugged, setting down a basket he hadn’t even noticed Eldain was carrying, “but since we’re laying low, I figured this was as close as we could get.”

“I–” Isengrim was breathless, uncertain of what to say. Awe spread through him as he looked over the dozens of lights, each coming from candles in small lanterns that were hanging from the ceiling all over. He couldn’t think of any words to portray what this meant to him, what it meant that Eldain would go to all this trouble for him. So he was as surprised as Eldain when his mouth said, “isn’t this a fire hazard?”

Eldain rocked back as if he’d been hit, smile abruptly falling from his face.

“No,” Isengrim tried to recover, cursing himself. “I – this is amazing. Is. What I mean. Um. Am trying to say. I – you did this for me!?” If there was disbelief coloring his tone, it was only because he could hardly comprehend the idea of anyone going to so much trouble just to cheer him up.

Eldain’s jaw was clenched, and his expression was a neutral mask that Isengrim hated having put there. Why did he always hurt the people he cared for? Was he truly so tainted that anyone he touched was at risk of infection? Was simply being around him enough to ruin what could be an incredible life for a beautiful young musician like Eldain?

“You don’t have to stay,” Eldain murmured, and Isengrim felt like crying, uncertain whether he wanted to leave and spare Eldain the risk of contamination or if he wanted to stay and bask in this incredible gift that Eldain was giving him.

––

Never before had Eldain wished that Isengrim would leave his presence immediately. But if he stayed much longer, then it was entirely too likely that he would witness Eldain falling apart.

Eldain had always known his silly little crush would never go anywhere . He was even almost fine with that. But he’d thought – he’d thought that Isengrim at least considered him a friend. And yes, this whole production was a little over the top for friendship, but hey, Eldain was an over the top kind of guy.

There was always the possibility Isengrim would hate it. And he’d worried about that and fretted over it, but he hadn’t really expected it to happen. Even if Isengrim was uncomfortable, Eldain would’ve guessed that he’d be polite enough to grin and bear it. Which was far from ideal, but right now, Eldain really wished that he’d done that, because instead it felt like he’d reached into Eldain’s chest and ripped his still-beating heart out, leaving him bleeding and doomed.

“Thank you,” Isengrim said, and Eldain startled. Of all the words he’d expected, those were not even on his radar.

“What?”

“Thank you. I – you clearly went to a lot of trouble to give me something beautiful. Thank you.” Isengrim said the words easily, and Eldain was confused. That… didn’t sound like Isengrim hated it. “So, what are we eating?”

Eldain’s smile grew slowly, but as Isengrim continued to look expectantly at him, he found that he couldn’t hold it back. He waved Isengrim towards the blanket – one probably as old as the house was, but all the good blankets were in use. “Bread and cheese. Fruit. Some veggies,” he narrated as he pulled the items out of the basket. “Wasn’t sure how much appetite you’d have, so I wanted to keep it light, but if you’re hungry, there’s still some venison in the storeroom.”

Isengrim looked at the objects laid out around them. “I – I don’t know what to say except thank you,” Isengrim said, a smile growing on his face that made Eldain’s heart beat fast. “This is very thoughtful and sweet.”

Eldain flushed, reaching into the basket to pull out the last item. “And, of course, some wine. It’s not exactly high quality, but we’re slumming it tonight anyway.”

The huff of laughter Isengrim let out made it feel like there were wings on his heart, letting it slowly rise. He’d made Isengrim happy. If that was all he ever did in life, he could be content with that.

Throne3 (Meve/Reynard/Gascon):

The porn tags for these 3 are sadly lacking, so... have some porn XD The premise here is that they’ve just escaped the Lyrian capital through the sewers and now they’re all washing off in the first river they came across.

They all knew what the venerable Count Reynard Odo was getting up to with Queen Meve upriver. But while the deserters from the Lyrian army and the Strays seemed content with gossiping about it, Gascon felt compelled to seek out more.

Sneaking past the guards ensuring their queen’s privacy with her boytoy even now was honestly pathetically easy. But then, they were probably used to looking the other way for their queen.

Gascon didn’t really know what he was planning, but he knew that he needed to see Meve in the throes of pleasure. The fierce and enchanting queen was currently being ‘serviced’ by her top aide and everybody knew it.

How could he possibly be expected to resist?

But instead of satisfying him, the view before him only made him crave more, because Meve and Reynard were standing about shin-deep in the water with him wrapped around her, hands stroking over her body as her head rested back against his shoulder.

But moreso than the picture they made, what truly drove Gascon over the edge was hearing Reynard tease his queen.

“So eager, your majesty,” Reynard murmured softly. “Could it be that the company of the ever so honorable Duke of Dogs,” his voice was heavily sarcastic, “has gotten you excited? Are you curious what that infuriatingly charming mouth would feel like against your skin?”

Meve arched as Reynard’s fingers skirted just short of touching her clit. “Reynard,” she growled.

Gascon wasn’t certain when his fingers had slipped inside his trousers, but the touch against his cock had him shuddering, already overwhelmed at the very idea that Meve could be fantasizing about him.

“Have you thought about pushing the arrogant bastard to his knees and showing him his place?” Reynard continued and Gascon bit his lip hard against a moan. “Have you pictured him, lips stretched around your widest strap, eyes tearing up from the effort of it?”

Meve whined softly, reaching up to tug Reynard into a kiss.

Gascon had never seen a filthier kiss in his life, and he stroked himself faster, picturing what he would do if he could join them. She may not have a strap handy to gag him on, but he was sure they could come to a compromise.

“Do you imagine him kneeling before you, begging for you?” Reynard rumbled and Gascon almost missed Meve’s sound over his own. Which meant that Reynard knew he was there when the Count continued, “I’ve no doubt the crass mutt is a marvel with his mouth.

Later, Gascon would claim that he spoke before he could even think about it, proclaiming, “I am.”

In reality, he spent a long moment contemplating how to respond. Getting caught spying on sex typically ended one of two ways: either you got invited to join in or you got beaten to a pulp.

He was fairly hopeful that the first option was more likely than the latter, but he wasn’t sure, and in the seconds of silence that followed his words, his heart pounded in his chest and pulse raced and he felt on the edge of either agony or elation.

“In that case,” Meve’s voice broke the quiet with all the firmness of having made a decision, “come pay homage to your queen, Gascon.”

Even though he’d hoped this was how things would go, he still felt utterly amazed that she had actually said yes.

He stepped through the buses, trying not to look like he’d been caught with his hand down his pants. “Your Majesty,” he bowed his head with a playful smirk and then sent her a wink just to top it off.

Meve looked every bit the dignified queen as she held out a hand that should have held her signet ring. They had taken that from her when she’d been captured, but Gascon found himself licking his lips, taking her hand and kissing her ring finger as if he were a knight pledging her fealty.

Her gaze was hot on him as he slowly kissed up her arm, and unlike the two of them, he still wore his armor – which meant that he could pretend no one saw the way that his cock twitched when Reynard reached out and knocked his hat off, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling his face down into Meve’s chest.

Obediently, he applied himself to worshipping Meve’s tits, taking Reynard’s lead and only giving her glancing brushes across her nipples, denying her touch.

Meve growled in frustration, grabbing his hips and pulling him into her until the bulge of his cock rubbed over her pelvis. Her cunt greeted the contact with a gush of slick, staining Gascon’s pants and making him pant with arousal.

“Fuck,” he gasped, grinding into her. She arched with a cry, fingers digging into his ass and Gascon desperately wished that there wasn’t a layer of fabric between his cock and that glorious cunt. But how could he pull away to fix that when his time could be better spent licking and sucking and biting at Meve’s glorious tits? Gods, they were beautiful, plump and sensitive, to the point that nipping at one nipple while squeezing her other tit was enough to make Meve’s body jerk, bucking into his hips as she utterly drenched his pants.

“Fuck,” he whimpered again, then dropped to his knees and buried his face in her cunt.

Thronebreaker Headcanons:

Okay, so as I’ve been getting to know Meve, Reynard, and Gascon and have started writing different plots with them, I’ve decided a few things. There’s going to be 1 universe of fics that falls under the “homophobia exists” universe that I talked about here. However, I know that’s not everyone’s boat and like, sometimes I just wanna write context-less porn, so definitely not all fics will! But I have several ideas already in that ‘verse, especially looking at the chronic pain Reynard has as a result of things.

So, specific to that ‘verse, one headcanon is that Reynard was whipped specifically for being queer and almost died from it. The wounds healed, but not... well, not the greatest. There wasn’t a lotta care taken with it. Which means that his back pains him A LOT and there’s a lotta things that he has to do different. For example, I’ve decided he sits in chairs like Riker does, keeping his back straight so that he doesn’t stretch the scar tissue. His range of motion is also limited in a lot of ways, but he’s found ways to compensate and hide it over the years. (just as an FYI, Riker sits like that, ‘cause Frakes had a back injury and doing that was less painful)

Okay, now WITHOUT the homophobia that led to chronic pain - I’ve decided that each of the Throne3 need to have a niche hobby that occupies them in their limited spare time (developed with much help from @moonlights-ordinance). Sooooo:

Meve:

Meve likes sewing. She doesn’t like people to know she likes sewing, because it’s closer to a traditionally ‘feminine’ than she usually aims for, but she actually really enjoys it.

On their journey, this comes out when Gascon’s shirt gets ripped and when he complains about it a lot, she just grabs it and mends it. This leads to her spending the evenings mending all the different clothing from the soldiers and the Strays.

I think she learned sewing from her father and he taught it to her in an attempt to get her to just sit still for five fucking minutes!!

Not directly related to sewing, but because her mother was busy being queen, she was largely raised by her father, who was an Ofieri Marquis (like, 2nd level nobility, under a duke) whose family paid a substantial sum in order to win the match. He was not popular at court and therefore found himself largely shunned by the peerage, but it left him with basically all of his time to devote to his children. (Does... does Meve have sisters?? Queen Kalis supposedly bore several girls???)

Reynard:

Reynard likes to crochet. Specifically, he likes to crochet little plushies. He’s not too picky about what he makes, and whoever is in range when he finishes it will likely end up gifted with an unexpected plushie.

At one point, he finished making a stingray, only for a passing soldier to dub it a Sting-Rey. Thus, Lieutenant Sting Rey was born. The troops listen to Lt. Sting Rey better than they listen to General Odo lmao.

He has a habit of crocheting in the evenings in the mess (maybe with Meve mending nearby) and random soldiers (and Strays) like to sit around his feet so that when he finishes a lil plush, they might get it. And when he starts a new one, he might take requests.

I could say so much more about the plushies he makes for Gascon and Meve, but I guess I’ll save that for a fic. But I gotta share these pics, ‘cause they’re so fucking cute. So: a donkey for Gascon (’cause he’s an ass) and a Lyrian eagle for Meve (’cause it’s Lyrian lol).

Gascon:

Gascon likes dancing! Specifically, he was trained in ballet from a young age (like literally a year old is when you start, apparently) and was trained as a ballerina (meaning he will be lifted/led instead of doing the lifts/leading). By the time he ended up on the streets at 12 (8 in canon, but my guy needs to at least be 20), he was pretty damn good at it - and so he ended up teaching the Strays

The Strays have a ballet troupe that puts on performances for the gang on occasion as like, a bonus to music night or something. Semi-spontaneous and very fun.

Gascon is SCARY flexible (like, to the point that Reynard is a little horrified that the human body can do that) from dance and he definitely uses that to his advantage.

He 100% gets everyone to dress up all fancy and put on makeup and do their hair and shit. After all, they steal all this fancy shit from the nobles - why SHOULDN’T they enjoy it?

And there you have it! Sorry for the super long post, but also... enjoy?

#rorveth #isendain #throne3 #iorveth x roche #isengrim x eldain #meve x reynard x gascon #thronebreaker #the witcher #wip wednesday #fic planning

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

Note

“ there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe” yakko dot Wakko

“What do you mean we can’t stay here anymore Yakko?” Wakko asked his older brother. Yakko sighed heavily. Wakko was six years old now, and Yakko had originally hoped that meant he’d be able to get a grip on things and make his life easier, but his hopes were in vain.

“I mean the orphanage is being shut down by King Salazar, so we have to go somewhere else,” Yakko rubbed his forehead as he folded blankets and put them into bags.

“Why? He isn’t really king, dadoo was,” Wakko frowned, and Yakko shot him a look.

“Wakko- how many times have I told you not to say things like that,” He said in a harsh whisper. Wakko lowered his head and muttered an apology. Yakko sighed. “King William and Queen Angelina the Second died two years ago, and King Salazar took his place.”

“Why does he want to shut down an orphanage? Doesn’t he have important things to do?” He asked.

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Yakko scoffed. He looked at his younger siblings and sighed again.

“King Salazar isn’t a good man. He’s very greedy, and wants to put up a different shop here because he doesn’t want to fund the orphanage anymore,” Yakko explained.

“But we don’t have anywhere else to go, doesn’t he know that?” Wakko huffed and crossed his arms. Yakko tried to think of a response as his eyes went to Dot, who was running around chasing a butterfly that had gotten inside somehow.

“I know that Wak... but there isn’t anything we can do,” He shrugged and continued packing.

“There has to be something,” Wakko kicked the ground and thought.

“Wakko, there just... isn’t. Not everything can be stopped,” Yakko touched his younger brother’s shoulder. Wakko didn’t respond, looking at the ground intensely as he thought.

“C’mon Wak, we have to go,” Yakko said, tying up the blankets and what little clothes they had into one blanket that he slung around his shoulder. He called to Dot, and she ran on over, beaming up to him with the confidence and joyfulness that only a naive two-year-old could possess.

“Wak.” Yakko said, becoming impatient. Wakko sighed and kicked the ground, muttering, but Yakko didn’t particularly care, and the warners left the now empty orphanage.

“Where we go?” Dot asked her eldest brother.

“Somewhere else, but not too far, Acme Falls is home,” Yakko said, bluffing his confidence. At least he knew some of it was true; no matter what, he was never going to leave Acme Falls. His mom told him to stay there, that was where he was going to stay. He couldn’t risk him and his sibs getting recognized, he couldn’t afford to lose them too...

“I want to go back,” Wakko huffed again. Yakko groaned internally, getting very tired of the wave of moodiness that had overcome his brother.

“We can’t go back Wak, I just explained that to you,” He stated, avoiding looking at a few of the townsfolk who were shooting them looks of pity.

“I want to go home,” Wakko stomped. Yakko stepped back.

“Wakko, we don’t have a home. We don’t have anywhere to go,” Yakko said for what felt like the millionth time in two years.

“Why can’t we go back and fight for our home?!” Wakko shouted, angrier than before. Yakko’s eyes widened, and he quickly scanned to see who was watching before he pulled his brother by the collar of his shirt into an ally, and Dot followed closely behind.

“Wakko, where on earth are you getting these ideas?” Yakko harshly whispered.

“Those stupid stories you tell Dot-”

“Hey!” Dot protested but was ignored.

“-talk about brave princes who fight evil. Why can’t we? King Saladbar-”

“King Salazar is a grown-up, and very, very powerful. We couldn’t fight him if we tried.” Yakko put his foot down.

“C’mon, in Dot’s stories it’s always the little guy. We could fight him,” Wakko said proudly

“Yeah!” Dot agreed with his enthusiasm, not really grasping what he was saying.

“Not ‘yeah’ Dot, that’s a very dumb idea,” He told her.

“You said good people always fight for what's right and to protect what they love,” Wakko scowled.

“Of course they do Wakko, it’s just-”

“Then why don’t we fight?!” Wakko seemed outraged now and Yakko really, really hoped no one was listening in to any of this.

“Because you’re just a kid Wakko. You can’t fight,” Yakko said.

“Not true- I fight Dot and I win,” Wakko crossed his arms.

“She’s two, she doesn’t count,” Yakko rolled his eyes. “And besides, I am protecting you two.”

“Faboo job so far,” Wakko muttered under his breath, but Yakko heard it clear as day.

“Watch your tone Wakko or so help me-”

“Or what? You aren’t Mum or Dad,” Wakko stomped, which made Dot jump and scurry behind Yakko.

“Wakkorotti Alan Warner so help me-” Yakko felt his temperature rise with anger, but he swallowed it best as possible, bringing his fist to his mouth and attempting to take calming breaths.

“Look, I know you’re confused. I’m sorry that the orphanage closed, there’s nothing we can do about it,” He said, looking down when he saw Dot hold his hand. “Just... know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you- either of you safe, okay? I love you guys more than anything,” Yakko said.

“If you’d do anything to protect us, then why won’t you fight Salazar, huh??? Why did you let him take away our home???”

“Why did you let Mum and Dad die?!”

Wakko’s words felt like a giant bat hit him right in the chest and left him feeling utterly speechless. He looked at Wakko and saw that tears were streaming down his face, and he covered his mouth with his hands. Yakko couldn’t look at him, and he turned around to face the back of the alley.

“Yakko?” Dot asked quietly. She was likely confused from all of the shouting, but Yakko didn’t have it in him to comfort her. He was done.

He could still see his mother in his mind, all bruised and bloodied. He remembered what her soft velvet gloves felt like against his cheek, her soft and tender kisses on his forehead, and he could still hear her cries of agony right before the gunshot that silenced her.

Guilt had wracked his mind ever since that night. At first, he hadn’t been able to sleep, he stayed up for weeks at a time, before exhaustion got to him and he was forced to sleep. He was slowly able to regain control of his guilt, with the help of the local doctor, but it still rested in the back of his mind, like a sleeping dragon.

A dragon that Wakko had just woken up.

“Y-yakko I’m sorry- I-i didn’t mean it,” Wakko was quick to apologize, but Yakko couldn’t look back at him.

He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to his dad, but he had seen his mother. He could’ve done something, but he froze, he froze, like some idiot and he had gotten caught, and because they saw him they killed her.

It was his fault. He froze, and because of that his mother was killed.

“Y-yakko please, I’m s-so s-so sorry. I didn’t mean it- You did what you could,” Wakko was practically sobbing at his point. Yakko glanced back at him, and that confirmed his suspicion. Wakko took his glance back as an invitation to hug him, and soon Yakko was almost crushed by the strong embrace of his little brother and little sister. Yakko swallowed painfully as he felt a sob of his own get caught in his throat.

“I’m so so so s-so sor-sorry Ya-Yakko, I-i love you,” Wakko squeezed tighter. “

“I-i-” Yakko started, but he couldn’t speak. He knew his siblings didn’t understand, how could they? They were trying their darndest to comfort him, but they didn’t understand. Whether or not Wakko meant it wasn’t relevant, he was right, and the weight of that fact would rest on Yakko’s shoulders for the rest of time. Yakko began to cry.

“You're the best big brother I would ever wish for! I didn’t mean any of that! You love us a whole lot a-and we love you too, right Dot?” Wakko sniffled and looked to his two-year-old sister, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! Dot loves Yakko!” She said. Yakko couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. Dot’s way of speaking did that to him.

“Yeah! A-and I love you too! You’re the best big brother and a good prince and a good protector,” Wakko let go of him only to wipe his tears off of his own face. Yakko did the same and took in a deep breath.

“I love you two too,” Yakko said shakily. Wakko bit his lip.

“I didn’t mean it really- It’s Saladbar’s fault, not yours. He’s evil and mean and he decided to attack our home. It isn’t your fault mum and dad gone, I was being stupid,” Wakko said. Yakko nodded slowly, doing his best to take in the words. They almost sounded to elegant to be Wakko’s, but Wakko had a knack for expressing his emotions, something even he, the quote-on-quote “talkative” sibling, struggled with.

“Thank you Wak... just... don’t ever say anything like that again, okay?” Yakko asked him. Wakko nodded his head a thousand and one times.

“I promise, Yakko. I didn’t mean it. Saladbar is the one to blame, I hate him,” Wakko stated affirmatively. Yakko couldn’t help but snicker had his mispronunciation of Salazar, which made Wakko happier.

“While I usually don’t condone hatred... I’ll let it slide this one time. We can hate Salazar,” He said. Dot and Wakko beamed.

“Good, because I really, really hate him,” He said.

“Yeah! Dot hates Saladbar!” Dot shouted, raising a tiny fist in the air and giggling.

“Good,” Yakko smiled at her and took her hand. “I’m glad we all can agree on that.” He went to pick up the bag of their stuff, but Wakko took it instead, and held his brother’s other hand.

“Now, let’s go find us some shelter. There’s got to be something around here somewhere...” Yakko said, and together the little family walked out of the alleyway and began to look for somewhere where they would start the next chapter of their lives, secure in the knowledge that while they couldn’t change the past they did have each other, and that’s all that mattered.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

#animaniacs #yakko wakko and dot #wakko warner #wakkos wish #yakko warner #my fics #dot warner #angst

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starlight-vixen-emiko · 3 years

Text

Team Miraculous Introduction

Hey all! This is coming out of nowhere.

Basically I had this fanfic chapter about the Lukanette and Adrigami fankids I created becoming the new wielders of the miraculous...And Marinette and Luka’s oldest son becoming the new Ladybug.

I am posting this because @lenoraishere said she wanted to write about him so I felt I may as well post this introduction chapter.

The reason why Halloween is mentioned is because this is an introduction chapter to a Halloween fanfic I wrote last year...Speaking of which that fanfic is still in my files and I do intend to finish it and publish it once Halloween rolls around. Soon my darlings!

So anyways I hope you guys enjoy...This was my first time writing fankids and I will be humble and say this may not be the best introduction.

I hope you enjoy it Lenora...Believe me this doesn’t count as your birthday gift I have something better planned. Then again I realize your birthday is fast approaching and I have lost track of time! Eep!

~~~~~

My name is Leon Couffaine-Cheng. If you haven't heard of me, I am the son of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Luka Couffaine, otherwise known as Ladybug and Viperion, the protectors of Paris.

The best protectors in the world. But shortly after I turned 15, my mom told me she felt a "sign from the Miraculous box" or something. I still remember it. It seemed like a typical day with my parents and little sisters. Then my mom gave me a devious smile and showered me with compliments when I just wanted to go to school early.

She told me that the box chose me to be the newer holder of the Ladybug Miraculous.

I just didn't get it. I mean, being a superhero sounds cool and all. Still, I don't know why I, in particular, was chosen to be the Ladybug. Or, as much as Tikki disagrees, I call myself Luckybug.

I figured my 13-year-old sister Marina was more suited. She is a fiery tomboy with electric blue hair and long pigtails, and she can skate and bike through anything. But my dad smiled at her and said she was chosen to carry the snake miraculous, Sass. Which she happily accepted.

Then there is my youngest sister Melanie. A beautiful little 9-year-old girl, kind-hearted, mature, helps around the house, and likes to bake sweets.

I figured Melanie would be the new Ladybug since she is Ladybug's biggest fan. She was super close to her Ladybug dolls when she was younger.

But recently, Melanie discovered a connection to the mouse miraculous.

I figured if this whole Ladybug thing did not work out for me, my little sister could take her place. But my parents are already protective of her and would prefer she not be a superhero until she is older.

It was too much for me to take, and I just wanted to go to school and have a typical day with my friends.

I met up with my best friend Masamori first.

Masamori Tsurugi-Agreste. Son of Adrien Agreste and Kagami Tsurugi. Also known as Chat Noir and Ryuuko.

They are the second greatest heroes of Paris, as much as Uncle Adrien and Aunt Kagami hate it when I say that.

Masamori lit up as usual when he saw me and said. "You'll never guess Leon! My mother told me that I was called by the dragon kwami Long!"

Long floated out of Masa's necklace and greeted me with a bow.

I looked at Masa straight in the eye with a sullen face.

"Leon, what's wrong?" Masa yelped.

I was about to open my mouth, and then Tikki appeared in front of me.

"I have been chosen to be Leon's partner!" Tikki said.

Masamori was overjoyed, but I couldn't help but vent to him about how this was a lot to take in. I question why I was chosen instead of Melanie.

We sat on a bench, and Masa gave me a pep talk. "This is a huge responsibility Leon, but I believe you can take it. There is a bigger reason for this, and weirder things have happened!"

As we walked through the crowd of students, I suddenly became self-conscious about the earrings I had to wear.

I covered my ears and said, "My dad can make earrings work, but I can't."

"You never looked better, Leon!" Masamori said.

I groaned under my breath and continued walking.

And then, just when I thought I could catch my breath.

"Leon! Take a look!" Masa said.

Up ahead was the recent transfer student Jinfeng. A beautiful Chinese girl with shiny long hair.

Now I felt even more self-conscious. I just wanted to hide my ears and run away. But I dropped my bag mid-escape and had no choice but to grab it. I had no idea Jinfeng was behind me.

"Leon," she said in a voice that made my heart skip a beat. "I love those earrings. They really suit you."

I turned out of politeness and tried to keep a benign expression, but I felt a big drop of sweat on my forehead and the back of my neck.

"Thank you for saying that!" I blurted out.

I realized it was a bit more frantic than I expected since she stepped back, looking a bit concerned.

Masamori gave me a bit of a push to get away.

"Come on, Leon, we have to head back to class!" Masamori cried.

After school, we met up with my sister Marina and Masamori's 13-year-old younger sister Erina. She is a blonde-haired Japanese-French girl, like someone out of an anime.

She spent nearly an entire summer in Japan and was lucky Marina was still best friends with her. She became the holder of the black cat miraculous. Sometimes we would team up, like my mom and Uncle Adrien teaming up back in the day, and I would joke about her being a cute kitty. Which she replied with, "Shut up, Bug Boy!"

"You're really good at scaring off girls with your cold demeanor, Lee-Kun!" Erina said.

Marina and Erina playfully laughed at my romance issues. Marina and Erina always caused mischief together. At least I had Masamori to get me out of mischief.

"Well, Erina and I are going to hang out tonight," Marina said.

Marina walked away with a skateboard in hand, and Erina had her kendo sword.

"I am not covering for you tonight!" I said.

Marina groaned and shrugged. "Fine!" She spat.

Masamori joined me in walking back to my house, where, as expected, my sister Melanie was watching movies with Masamori's youngest brother, Aiden Tsurugi-Agreste.

A boy mature for his age despite being only 9. Since Agreste-san and Tsurugi-san are usually busy with work, Aiden usually spends time here with Melanie. The two are inseparable friends watching movies here and making baked goods.

Melanie and Aiden looked at us as we came in.

"Hi Mel Mel," I said. "Hi, Aiden."

Melanie lit up. "Big brother!" She held her adorable little hands up. "I am so happy you're home safe. I hope nothing dangerous happened."

I sighed. "Nothing happened today, Mels." Just the way I like it.

"Luckybug is the great new hero of Paris!" Melanie said triumphantly. "Just like Mama was!" Melanie looked so incredibly starstruck.

Aiden smiled. "Yeah, it was great how you saved our school from The Food Fighter."

All I remember from that is bananas in my hair and stepping in gross puddles of spinach.

"I can take you home now, Aiden," Masamori said.

Aiden crossed his arms. "Five more minutes!"

Surprisingly Aiden hasn't felt a connection to a kwami. Which I guess isn't a terrible thing since Aiden is such a good boy, and I can't imagine him fighting anyone. But he is still an honorary member of Team Miraculous, so he deserves mention. That and he has been so good to my beloved younger sister.

Why am I bringing this up, you may ask? Because this Halloween is our first Halloween being miraculous holders. I just hope no weird Halloween akumatization happens that night. I just want to spend Halloween with my friends and my family. That isn't too much to ask for, right?!

"Mel-Chan!" Aiden cried. "I wonder what Halloween is going to be like for Team Miraculous."

Melanie smiled at Aiden as if she was just as excited over the idea. "Maybe the streets will be filled with walking skeletons, talking pumpkins, and ghosts Ai-Kun!"

I was flabbergasted! Melanie and Aiden treated this like this was a fun Halloween episode of a cartoon.

Akumas can make any event weird and freaky, and I am nervous just thinking about what could happen on Halloween night. It could be a scarier Halloween night than we could ever imagine.

Author’s Note: I apologize if this isn’t perfect. Honestly I didn’t care as much about making this pitch perfect because I wasn’t planning on publishing it on my ao3.

But yes I was considering writing a next generation fanfic.....Of course that sounds a bit nervewracking to me.

Yes there is a bit of a history repeats itself thing going on with Leon having a highschool crush...Granted recently I decided to make Leon bi and give him a male love rival as well but in this fanfic I couldn’t find a way to put the male love rival in just yet so I left that part out.

#pro lukamari #lukanette #adrigami #well ok adrien and kagami aren't present here sorry!#they will be present in the halloween fanfic though #endgame lukanette #endgame adrigami #lukanette fankids #adrigami fankids #my writing #my fanfiction

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Text

United as One. || Part 1.

Summary: Din returns home after fulfilling his mission of saving his foundling, after completing it he can now claim his rightful spot as clan leader. There is one problem he needs a wife to secure the future of his clan but his clan is not to happy with his choice and they make that very clear.

Warning/content: None for this part except for blood, wounds and angst but future ones will be 18+, have mature themes, pregnancy and etc. This does contain chapter 16 spoilers!!! No use of y/n.

Clan leader Din AU. Also not edited because im lazy.

paring: din djarin/female reader

Part 2. || Master post.

Din holds the child close, it's a bittersweet moment as Grogu is finally untied with his father. Tears threaten the Mandalorian's eyes, he's thankful of helmet at this very moment. His eyes find her, another reason to get emotional. He realizes just how much she’s grown on him during this journey, and could easily admit he didn’t want to say good bye. She can't help it as her own eyes gloss over as the words are said. Din leans over, cool helmet flushing against the warmth of her forehead. “Now that the child is safe I must return to my clan.”

"I'm glad we found him Din, I'm glad you can go back home." Din sighs, the leather pad of gloves rubbing the highest point of her cheek, soaking in the feeling of skin. "I wish you could stay."

“It’s my obligation." Din mumbles, metal kisses her ear as he presses his forehead into the her collarbone. He was close, never wanting to let go as he pulls her in as much as the child will allow against his chest. "The clan needs me, I'm to be the new leader."

"I know, someone out there needs you more than I do." It's a whisper only meant for his ears, the rough edges of his visor meets her face, surprised at the words. She can’t see it, the way his bottom lip quivers with emotion, the longing eyes that just want her. Those words mean something to him.

“Come with me, I can’t be without you.” he admits, he wishes Boba and Fennec weren't close by, he wishes he can tell her to shut her eyes so he can feel the softness of lips, the rush that fills him whenever he kisses her. Pink, soft and plump, the perfect fit for his own.

"Din I'm not -."

Din doesn't allow any excuses, "I love you. I need you."

"You're making this hard." Tears swell immediately, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth with a soft sob, disguising it as a laugh. Din doesn’t move a single muscle, just stares intensely.

"Please." He begs, the hand against her cheek lowers to her hip fingers pressing in attempt to close the gap between the two.. Grogu's soft fingers touch her collarbones, his own quiet plea. Cheeks rise to form wrinkles under eyes as her smile makes Din's heart rate increase.

"Okay. I'll go." Din let's out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, chest expanding once again, a ghost of a smile.

"I wish I could kiss you Cyar'ika, I am so thankful for you." Din's heart felt like it was going to explode, the unbearable emptiness of leaving her here was suddenly gone. "You're are my other half. I can't wait to share my home with you."

While the ride was long, Din manages to make it manageable, he tells stories of his clan, talks about the different types of foods, the ceremony that will be held in days time when he arrives. It’s cute.. how passionate he is about his people. It never really hit her before.. Din is to be a leader of his clan and it fits him, a little to perfect. He’s a protector but caring, it’s the perfect blend for one.

Din's fingers squeeze her own as the ship lands, reinsuring as he senses the nervousness seeing her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Standing tall, stiff and uncomfortable. "It's going to be okay, you look nervous."

"I am nervous." Fidgeting with the hem of tunic says it all, he leans in closer he smell of him is almost enough, but the warmth is what really calms her down. Din's fingers fill the gaps in-between hers, his own little way of saying he's here, there's no reason to be nervous.

The ramp of the ship is slowly opening while her eyes dart over his side profile over and over again; of course it’s just his helmet, but somewhere in those points of basker bring comfort. The moment he does notice, she’s blushing, caught but he doesn’t seem to mind.

"There's no reason to be, I'll always protect you my love." There it is, the love of the man that got her nto this in the first place. It's a small gesture, a glove hand pressing softly into her cheek, dragging across smooth skin. "I mean it, I'd do anything for you."

Her mouth open to say the same words back but the smell of fresh pine, earthy tones of moisture are distracting, there is absolutely nothing, just trees and dirt that run for miles. The small child is asleep but stirs in the bag that wraps across his neck and down his side.

"We have to hike there." The Mandalorian throws a pack over his shoulder, hand finding slipping into hers again. "The clan survives by being a secret, no one but us must know the location."

"Not even Boba?"

Din's eyes drag along her face, looking back at herself in the reflection of his helmet. "No, he is not a Mandalorian."

"Either am I." Din steps out in front of her, hands still crossed in each other, extending it until your feet move out from under her.

"You're with me, no one will say anything." He pauses, slight amusement in his voice. "If they know what's good for them."

"Come on." Despite Din controlling the pace it does not meet up to expectations as he pulls her closer and slightly in front of him. "Stay right next to me and we have to move quicker, it gets dangerous around here at night time."

Dark was near, hanging right over the horizon as the planet’s sun begins to set lower, it was quieter then when she first arrived, the small animals and bugs of the forest seemed to also agree with Din.

The big fill moon on display provides just the amount of light needed to maneuver the thick brush and trees. It’s peaceful, beautiful, the forest is different hues of greens, pinks and blues from growing flowers make the trip just a little more bearable.

It’s serenity, peaceful and ebbing so gently throughout the darkness. Din’s hand never leaves her own except when he drapes his cape over shuddering shoulders, or to check on the child, the darkness brought a chill with it.

It’s happens in an instant, suddenly all of her breath is knocked out of as Din pushes her with a shout, “Get down!” Protective hands press accidently press her face against the foliage of the forest, the heavy body shielding her own from harm.

Large sharp spikes take wing above them. Both of their hearts thump at the crunching of leaves in the distance with the snapping branches falling all around when a loud unhuman sound fills the air, a growl so close she couldn’t decide if the hot air was it was coming from under Din’s helmet or snapping of jaws in front of her face. It’s covered in fur black red eyes peering as it’s long claws reached for both of her but Din is quicker, his fingers grasp her hips, yanking up and pushing her back as he secures the bag against his chest. “Run!”

The sounds of chanting could be heard, a group large in numbers just ahead in the tree line, a large bright light that an only resemble a large fire burning, the smell makes her nose twitch, it’s so close but very very far for the predicament the pair find themselves in.

She couldn’t breath, air ways blocked by paralyzing fear that swirls deep inside of her stomach sending her whole body into a frenzy. Feet ran with a blur, not being make out anything due to how fast she were going, the pitch dark didn’t help either, but Din was were to guide her, with one slip up he was pushing her into the right direction. Alarms and bells began to sing, loud drums as chaos broke out, yelling and the sound of blasters as she finally hit the tree line. Din’s finger press into her shoulder to finally stop her from running, the beast did not dare past the tree line.

Only because of what in habited it. Loud wheezing falls from burning lungs, long, shallow breaths as she lean one hand against the ground for support. It was obvious her body was still in flight mode when hands try to touch her face only to be pushed away with brutal force.

“It’s me, it’s just me. Breath with me.” The Mandalorian’s face is in front of her own, pressing his hand against the swells of her chest to remind her to breath. As her body starts to calm, it feels hot. The sound of crackling and popping as scarlet flames dance right in behind her, Din doesn’t like the close proximity as he stands between her and the warmth.

“Come over here, you’re too close to the fire.” As she starts to take in the rest of the environment she can’t help but notice the faces around them, well some were faces the rest were similar to Din, the helmets weren’t as seek, silver as him but a variety of different shaped eyes, symbols and lines. Now she understood why the creature didn’t dare cross the forest lines. There was a small amount of commotion, some eyes question her but the majority seek out Din.

“The Mand’lor has returned.” Din nods in acknowledgment, hands pulling his girl from the ground. Din’s fingers swipe her hair from her forehead as he sees the look of disapproval on the few bare faces.

“Listen to me.” He pleads, watching as a smaller woman, elder woman slowly ascends towards them. “Anyone can challenge rank in the clan, you must fight if need be.”

“Wh-What?” Wide eyes meet his visor, stomach twisting as Din’s words stun her. It was too late, the elder’s staff is pressing against her throat harshly. “Who is this woman you’ve brought us?”

The growl that Din lets out is enough to scare that monster in the woods, it’s protective, frustrated but expected, how did he ever think his people would accept a outsider? especially a non-mandalorian one. The elder sneers at her, different symbols of no legitimacy are painted against her forehead, black charcoal lines that reach to her lips. “Let her go. She’s with me.”

The elder’s eyes shift towards Din. While Din may be the leader of the clan, the elders are responsible for making sure the rules are followed, guidance for such a leader. The pressure releases from her throat but the venom in her tone says it all. “She doesn’t belong here.”

If a staff to the point of almost unconsciousness doesn’t say you’re not welcomed here the words make her cheeks red with embarrassment. Din’s fingers find her shoulder quickly, pulling her against his chest protectively. Eyes turn in disgust as they realize, the way he flushes her against him, his willingness to protect her. It’s wrong, so very wrong to the clan but Din doesn’t care. All eyes are on him as he steps in front of her, the child now awake is shoved against her chest, Din’s fists ball against his sides, he’s strong, sturdy like a wall as the crowd meets his own gaze. “She is under my protection, if anyone wants a challenge, they go through me first.”

Just like the the tension leaves the air, no one dares to step forward as the cold, icy gaze of the visor warns them, then to the elder that stands a few feet from him. “Is that understood?”

Watching all these people cower at his words makes her throat dry, Din Djarin was passionate, a little rough around the edges but never this scary. Shaky finger rub against her throbbing throat as another wheeze leaves her burning throat. Without a second glance Din is dragging her along the field, the peaks of houses just over the land.

“Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, only presses herself into his hold as they near one of the biggest huts in the field.

“Where are we?” It’s cold, but clean. Neatly organized books against the walls, a fireplace with two comfy leather chairs, the kitchen is small, almost right next to the living room but it is cozy. Din manages to find some matches to light the room up, “My home.”

The child fights against her grasp as she sits down on the brown chair, large dark eyes meeting her own as he lets out a whine of frustration. . It doesn’t register, everything happening to quickly doesn’t give her time to even breath as she looks up at the Mandalorian. When Grogu is finally free, he manages to find the other chair, curling up comfortably in it “What just happened?”

Din tries to speak but she decides for him. “They don’t want me here, why did you bring me here?”

Din shakes his head, falling between her thighs, hands press against them with intent to comfort but it makes her more frustrated. “They’re not used to strangers, and you’re not Mandalorian, it caught them by surprise.”

“Din I saw the way they looked at me, that old lady almost murdered me. “Did you know it was going to be like this?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, bringing his helmet forward to her shoulder. “Yes but no one will challenge you for now, not until you’re part of the clan.”

“No one wants me here.” Tears of frustration slip past eyelashes, rejection sitting deep inside the pit of her stomach.

“Sweet girl.” Din’s covers her eyes with his palm using the other to pull the helmet off placing it next to him. “Close your eyes.”

Even if she wanted to she couldn’t open them, they’re too heavy with emotion as Din presses his fingers against tears, wiping them gently. “No tears, for the love of maker, no tears.”

“I-I’m -” Din doesn’t let her finish, instead he uses his lips to taste the salty mixture that formulated from her pain, lips meet hers gently.

“They will love you, they haven’t seen a stranger since I left two years ago, give it time.” Din promises, hands wrap around just below her breast, pulling her against his chest. “The clan is sacred, they just see -.”

“An outsider.” The sourness of the words taste strange in her mouth, “Why did you bring me here then?”

“I love you.” It’s the first time those words move past those lips, “I can’t be without you.”

It’s hours later when Din returns to the tent, while many hours have past she was still asleep. The bed was comfortable, stuffed with feathers, covered in layers and layers of animal pelts. Soft fur smooth against skin, perfect for the chilly night.

The child notices, instantly perking up to extend his arms out to his father. The foundling coos as Din’s hands hold him close to his chest, “Hey buddy, are you hungry?”

The next few days are almost enough to make her regret coming with Din, she’s alone half the time, Din leaves her for what he called ‘very important business, and snarled at when she leaves the hut. Never in her life has she felt so.. unwelcomed, out of place. She has never been a person to care about things like these, but the child was soon becoming her only source of social interaction and everyone knows how well that is.

“What are you doing out here?” Din’s voice startles her, the child in her arms jumps as she does.

Eyes shift in confusion at the Mandalorian, the raspiness of his voice, hands bare but open cuts painted across them, dried blood show signs of a struggle as she tits her head. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about sweet girl.” The hand finds the crown of her head, rubbing the hair softly, then to the child’s head before disappearing silently into the hut, while it was very Din the tone of his voice was very uncharacteristic.

“Din?” It’s much later in the night, so late that they should both be fast asleep like the child tucked between them. Din’s helmet reflects the dying fire across the room, despite the inches of distance between them it felt like miles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He sighs, turning onto his side so he can look at her. He was stripped down to a thinner tunic, comfortable pants rid of all amour except his helmet, the fire was still alive. “It’s just -.”

He cuts himself off, bringing his hands forward to her hips fingers dig into the flesh to pull her close against him. “What is it?”

“The elders.. they don’t like that I brought you here.”

“i know that.”

Din turns his back towards the fire, the broadness of him dimming the room almost instantly. The helmet falls to the floor with a thud, lips meet the junction between her clavicle and sternum, nose pressing against her skin. “I want you to stay here with me.”

“I don’t feel welcomed here, no one even knowledge me.”

“Marry me.” The words make her choke, body momentarily freezing as fingers release his hair. Din freezes as well, not believing the words fell from his lips so easily.

“If you marry me, they will have no choice but to accept you. You will be my queen.” A pregnant pause falls amongst them, Din doesn’t dare move from his spot but pushes further. “They will make me take a wife anyways, I want it to be you.”

Emotion is heavy in her throat, “It feels forced, you’re only doing this for me. For you can have me.”

“I’m doing this because I love you, I want you to stay with me. The elders have no control over what I’m saying to you. I want you to marry me because I love you.” The words aren’t forced, they’re spoken with carefulness but freely mumbled against her chest.

“Marry me, I’ve always known you’d be my riduur from the moment I met you.”

A/N: I swear its going to get much better, first chapters are always so slow. Thank you for reading, I’m accepting tags just comment below, thank you!

#din djarin fan fiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandolorian imagine #the mandolorian x reader

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