#and for the lack of deserving words but just know i appreciate this more than you know 😭

[magicalbats]

Persist and Resist (Sunday x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7730

Warnings: afab!reader, handjob, cum eating, a pinch of femdom, canon typical Catholic guilt

A/N: Happy Valentine's everyone! I actually started writing this one in response to an ask I got back when I was working on last years kinktober but at some point in shuffling the text around from here to Google docs it seems Tumblr ate the initial message, which is a big bummer. I do, however, recall that the sender wanted to know what I liked about Sunday ... and the answer to that is clearly 7730 words long! lol Please enjoy the fic and if you're still around, anon ... this one is for you. ❤️

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“Just relax,” you murmur, ignoring his startled gasp when you lean in from behind to rest your chin against his shoulder. “You’re always so stiff. That’s not good for your health, y’know.”

He hesitates, seems to think about it. Deciding how he should react. 

Forcing himself to draw a slow, carefully measured breath this time and further betraying his feelings on the matter, Sunday grits out a terse laugh. It’s soft and quiet. A barely there chuckle that carries with it only a very small fraction of the self assured confidence he’d displayed back on Penacony. 

You knew now that the real Sunday was not quite so sure of himself or as comfortable in his own skin as he’d first appeared, although he still tries very hard to hide that insecurity from you despite being far, far away from his old home. Like some sort of defense mechanism meant to protect and shield the delicate fragile parts of him from threat of the outside world, but it doesn’t work. Not when you were sitting so damn close to him as to feel every stuttering beat of his heart.

Pressed right up against his back like this, there’s not much he can keep from you, in fact. You’re keenly aware of even the most imperceptible shift in him, from the steady expansion of his lungs down to the loose flex of his hands where they’re resting across his lap. His body language makes it clear that he’s not accustomed to sharing such close proximity with another person and he’s not quite sure what to do with it. Right down to the molecular level it’s obvious he’s way out of his comfort zone given his subtle fidgeting, as if he just couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous. Maybe even a little scared, too.

“How interesting.” He finally murmurs. “I wasn’t aware you filled the important role of medical expert on board the Express. I’ll have to make note not to end up in need of your services again.”

Turning his head, Sunday pointedly looks elsewhere in your new room on the train, much preferring to focus on anything other than its owner at the moment. 

Situated above the party car and effectively cut off from the more heavily used common areas, the privacy here is absolute and precisely why you’d extended an invitation to him. There was more than enough room for you to share this space with the wayward traveler who, as far as you could tell, had been sleeping on the bench seats in the car below while you worked to get everything set up to your liking. But he never complained about it or tried to demand better accommodations even though you were certain it was a drastic downgrade in the comfortability he was used to. Like some self flagellating martyr, almost. 

The thought that he might be using the Express’ lack of additional rooms to further punish himself, convinced he deserved that or even less, was what ultimately swayed your decision to open your door to him. You wanted to show Sunday that there were still good things in this world that he could have, things he could enjoy and appreciate the same way he had in his previous life even if they weren’t quite as luxurious or posh as he was accustomed to. 

You also wanted to show him that you were willing to forgive him and, in the process, maybe even convince him to forgive himself. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” He insists, just a bit too tightly for it to be believable. “But I’ve seen you in action before. You’re not exactly what I’d call a gentle hand, and this … bedside manner is beyond me.”

That makes you smile into his shoulder as you wind your arms more securely around him, gently nudging Sunday back against your front. Still, he refuses to relent though. Staying perfectly motionless and straight as a board now, he almost feels like a statue made of solid granite sitting on the edge of the haphazardly made bed with you. Would have, were it not for the slightest hitch in his chest.

You realize in a distant, immaterial sort of way that his subconscious reaction was in response to your breasts pressing into his spine. He must like it then, even if he was loathe to say it. This was admittedly something you found to be charmingly cute in its guileless unassuming but it also made you want to tease him even more for it at the same time.

“That might be for the best,” You softly coo at him, keeping your voice light and barely more than a whisper as you trail a single hand higher up to pull at one of the clasps on his jacket. “I don’t have a medical license, after all.”

He sucks in another inhale, sharper this time. “You’re shameless.”

“That may be true, but I don’t see you trying to stop me.”

A strange little sound puffs out of him, something equally torn between indignation and fluster.

He either can’t or he won’t bring himself to reject your advances though, and he just sits there while you make careful work of unfastening his cozy coat. Idly, you wonder if this was the first time he’s ever had someone touching him like this. But he’s either making an attempt to be more polite than he otherwise would have been when someone was invading his personal bubble like this or, more likely, he considered it another facet of his penance. Further punishment for a sin he’s already been punished for twice over in your eyes. 

Sighing a quiet sound against his neck, you tentatively slip your hand into the inner layer of his shirt once you’ve got it nudged up enough to reach inside.

The skin along his stomach is enviously soft and smooth when you brush your fingers against it, and he outright jolts at that first hint of contact. Even then he still does not protest or try to pull away, though. His breathing deepens, coming slightly harder and faster now, but he makes no move to disengage from you, and you finally rouse yourself to tip your face up at him in question.

“I was only joking, Sunday. You can tell me if you don’t want me to keep going.”

“So you can hold it over my head later? I think not, Miss Stellaron. Against all odds, I still have some pride left in me.”

You frown at that. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re not a prisoner here and I’m not your jailer, so you’re free to make your own choices. I just want to help you.”

For a drawn out moment it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any kind of response from him, and you’re just a bit disappointed about that. But then, ever so slowly, he turns his head to cautiously glance back at you. The deeply embarrassed flush staining his cheekbones manages to surprise you, making your brows climb up to your hairline before you can suppress the reaction and stop it.

“I fail to see how this could be in any way helpful to me.” He intones, keeping his wing tucked forward across the lower half of his face so he can hide his mouth from your line of sight. Acting as a final barrier in case you were to decide to take that last inch from him. 

“I thought this might help you relax. You are pretty stiff, you know. I wasn’t joking about that.”

That defensively tucked in wing gives a brief flutter to make the soft feathers ruffle slightly, like a helpless bird trying to puff itself up to look bigger. It would have been adorable had his eyes not narrowed at you in warning in the same breath.

“I’ve never heard of such a method for relaxation. This isn’t how the Family does things.”

“But you’re not part of the Family anymore, are you? It’s okay to do things differently now.” Holding the air in your lungs, anticipating the coin drop, you slide the hand inside his shirt a little higher up to rub over a tiny nipple. “Let me show you, Sunday. Please?”

He twitches at the touch of your fingertips and quickly swings his attention back around to avoid having to look at you any longer. You can feel the shudder that runs through him but he still refuses to utter the one word that would make you back off. ‘Stop’. That’s all he needed to say. And you would, if he really wanted that. 

Something told you he didn’t completely hate what you were doing though, and it’s not like he’d ever admit to liking it anyway.

So you take your time softly petting over the petite bud, coaxing it to full stiffness which even then doesn’t leave much for you to play with. Every part of him was so slim and compact that as you feel over his chest you find yourself wondering if he was perhaps malnourished despite the life of relative luxury he’d lived back on Penacony. He shouldn’t have had to go without food, at the very least.

Deciding to find him a slice of cake in the kitchen after this, or at least a cookie, you redirect your hand to the opposite side of his chest to tease that nipple as well. Sunday stiffly arches against you in response, nudging his narrow chest up at the sensation even as he whimpers a quiet noise into the still room. He was slowly getting more and more fidgety, like he wasn’t quite sure how to react to what you were doing. How to process it or how to reconcile any of it in his mind. 

But a simple glance down at the front of him tells you everything you need to know without having to break the static charged silence by asking him how he was feeling. He wouldn’t have been honest with you anyway, of that you were certain, so there would have been no point in it.

The reluctant tent pushing up through his pants speaks for itself though, and this part of him could not lie. No matter how much he tried to fight it or wrestle it back under control, there was simply no subjugating the natural urges of his body. He couldn’t fully control it no matter how much he might want to and you can tell that bothers him a great deal in the way he softly seethes under his breath.

He was supposed to be disciplined and steadfast, not easily swayed by the compunctions of flesh and blood. And after rejecting it for so long, stuffing it down into a sealed box in the back of his mind where he wouldn’t have to look at it or think about it, he was now quickly succumbing to the full brunt of his neglected sensitivity. All you’ve done so far was tease his nipples a little bit and his cock was already needily flexing up into the placket of his slacks as if with a mind of its own. A hungry beast that couldn’t be contained no matter how hard its master might yank on the leash trying to bring it back to heel. 

It’s a little sad, in a way. You can’t help feeling sorry for him and all the simple pleasures he’s denied himself for the sake of exerting some amount of control over his own existence when he otherwise had none, but you also feel a sharp stab of arousal too. There were so many things you could teach him, if given half the chance. So many different avenues of pleasure and satisfaction, and intimacy that the two of you could explore together if he’d just allow himself the freedom to experience them for once in his life.

In truth you’d found Sunday quite interesting from the moment you first set eyes on him in front of the check-in counter of the Penacony Grand Hotel, like there was some sort of magnetic force at work urging you closer into his orbit. You knew now that at least part of that compulsion was a result of the Harmony and the other was his natural charisma as a Halovian. But there’s something else there too, something not so easily explained or written off.

He was not that much unlike you, was he? Someone who was so utterly bereft of a home to call his own in this vast cosmos that the nomadic existence of a star-bound wanderer was the only feasible option left to him. Everything from his identity right down to his own sister had been taken from him and he was alone now, save you and the rest of the Astral Express crew. You could understand that well enough even if you didn’t have any memories of what you’d lost before ending up here, just the same as he eventually had.

But you wanted to show him what having that freedom was really like, even if it was just a tiny glimpse of what awaited him on the other side now that he was free of Penacony’s slumbering birdcage.

“Do you trust me, Sunday?”

He tries to laugh again, fails miserably at it, and all that comes out is an odd little croak instead. “I don’t see that I have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Of course you do.” 

Carefully sliding your hand out of his shirt, you reach down to tug at his belt buckle with deliberate slowness, giving him ample opportunity to protest. He just groans the most threadbare little sound you’ve ever heard though, and finally allows himself to reluctantly ease back into you. Still unfalteringly stiff and halting, but at least you were making progress.

With a brief clink and a rattle, his belt comes loose. You set your sights on his pants next, fumbling with the top button just as slowly so as not to spook or startle him. He really was like a defenseless bird caught in the sights of a much larger predator and unable to fly, to flee or to fight. He remains passive in your arms, luckily, but the building anticipation of what you were doing does make him start to squirm. He quickly forces himself to stop and be still though, merely watching what your hands are doing with his face tipped down towards his lap.

Soon enough you have those neatly pressed slacks open and you slip your fingers inside to feel along the band of his underwear before trailing even lower. You find his straining cock easily when it’s already stiff and rigidly pushing up from his body, giving it a gentle squeeze through the last layer of laughably thin cotton, and he responds with a tortured, half choked gasp.

“M - Miss Stellaron …”

You can hear the hoarse rattle in his voice as much as you feel it where you’re pressed right up against him like you are. At some point your breathing seems to have synced with his and you find yourself quietly panting right along with him as you work to nudge his pants down far enough to free him from them. 

Clearly picking up on your intent, Sunday hesitates to do it and he sways almost unsteadily between your arms before he at last manages to shyly angle his hips off the edge of the mattress to help you in your endeavor. He whimpers softly while he does it, and you consolingly coo at him as you press your face into the crook of his elegant neck to breathe deep the smell of him. Soap and clean linen, and a hint of downy fuzz that makes your head feel light with the impression of warmth. Perfect for cuddling. 

“Shh. Just relax for me. I promise I’ll take good care of you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Tipping forward, you place a tender kiss to his drooping wing and you’re delighted by the sensitive inhale he sucks in at the sensation of your lips brushing against the feathers. You’d always wondered if they were as delicately receptive as they looked and you were glad to have your answer even as you tug at his underwear to slide the band underneath his straining length.

And it immediately springs up into the air, already flushed and leaking as it weakly twitches in his lap as if in a desperate bid for attention. You’re amazed at not only how beautiful his cock is, average in size at best and yet so perfectly shaped as to look somehow beyond the pale of mere flesh, but also at how satiny soft and smooth it is. The flawless texture almost makes it look like something made of alabaster, and you eagerly reach around to take him in your hand.

“Oh!” His back dramatically arches against you, his hands flying up where they hesitate over yours for a harrowing moment before he allows himself to latch onto your wrists. It’s the first hint of reciprocity on his part, intentionally touching you instead of remaining a bystander as he had up until now, but you still hold your breath as you wait to see what he’ll do next.

If he was going to push you away this would be the time. The situation had clearly escalated beyond what could be excused as simple platonic affection and you brace for his reaction. His rejection. 

To your genuine surprise, however, Sunday just holds onto you by the wrists and weakly rolls his hips up in a shuddering, painfully stiff thrust. The motion sends his cock stuttering across your fingers before pulling back when he eases down to sit fully on the mattress again, wheezing softly at just that brief stimulation. You sorely wished you could see his face again but Sunday’s attention remains down and that fluttering wing stays an ever present screen for him to hide behind as well. 

No matter though. You didn’t really have need for visual cues when you could feel everything in stunning high definition through the point of contact between his body and yours. 

Closing your fist tighter around his cock, you gently begin to pump him, hand dragging from the base where ticklishly coarse hairs tease your knuckles straight up to the tip to make his foreskin bunch over the head. You can hear the sticky wet click of precum but it’s quickly lost under the harsh, frazzled gasp he raggedly pulls in. And it almost manages to surprise you, how sensitive he really is and how vigorously he twitches at your ministrations. There was some part of you that hadn’t been sure if he was even able to put on such an animated display, thinking he’d fight tooth and nail to keep up that implacable facade no matter what manner of duress he was made to endure. 

That is not what happens though. 

Instead he suddenly comes alive, unable to stop himself from full on shuddering and twisting his narrow hips against your hold. Hissing an overwrought sound into the otherwise still and silent room, he clutches at your arms in such a tight deathgrip that the leather of his gloves softly creaks. Not to stop you or to push you away, you dully realize when he groans your name like a plea. But because it felt good and it overwhelmed him, and he needed to hold onto something or risk shattering into a million pieces right then and there. 

Stealing another quick, almost giddy look down at the cock gripped in your fist, you don’t think that’s going to help him or stop the inevitable though. He’s flushed pink and raw from nothing more than just a few brief pumps of your hand, and you can feel the intense throb of him pulsing under your fingers. Not only was he going to cum quick and hard, considering how fiercely he shakes for you, but it was also going to take an embarrassing lack of effort on your part to get him there. 

“Oh, Sunny. Are you enjoying yourself now?” You purr into his shoulder, delighted at how abruptly he’d changed his songbird’s tune. From proud and immovable to a writhing, pathetically whimpering mess in just the blink of an eye. And all it had taken was the firm hold of your hand on him. It was in many ways astounding. “I always knew you had it in you.”

“I told you — nnghn! Not to … not to call me that.” 

Humming a low sound of agreement, you slowly drag your hand back down the length of him to peel away his foreskin in a tortuously stilted motion. Another sticky click hits your ears and he grunts a harried noise of distress when the cool air wafts against his exposed glans unimpeded, making him judder wildly in response. But you keep him held tightly against you even when his back dramatically bows, using your anchoring arm wrapped around his flexing stomach to keep Sunday pressed into you while the opposite hand gives his base a pinched squeeze to stave off his release. It wouldn’t hold it back for long but you were happy with even just those few extra seconds you’re given to admire him. 

And admire him you do. He’s sticky with an excess of eager, dribbling precum that coats the glistening head in a filmy sheen, inviting you to reach out and rub him there. You knew that would undo him in alarmingly short order though, so you hold off for the moment. Rather, you gently smooth your touch down to caress over his balls and wrap your fingers around their delicate weight, cradling them in the palm of your hand. 

Surprising you a great deal, Sunday outright yelps at the sensation and jolts as if you’d just electrocuted him despite how careful you’d been in handling his testes. Slim chest heaving on an uncontrollable, stuttering rhythm, he heavily leans back into you and tips his head to keen up at the ceiling. The sound itself as much as the volume of it makes your heart leap into your throat where it threatens to suffocate you. He was getting much too loud, wasn’t he?  

Your thoughts immediately flash upon the idea that someone might be just downstairs in the party car but you aren’t sure how well sound travels between the two floors, and that makes you nervous. Would they be able to hear him clearly and figure out what was happening just over their heads, or would it only seem like muffled and distant noise? Hell, even if one of your other crewmates wasn’t down there Shush almost certainly was. That damned robot hardly ever moved from behind the polished bar unless it was to pester someone with its awful jokes. What would it even say about the things it could hear going on up in your room? 

Quickly deciding you really didn’t want to test fate like that, you unlock your arm from around his middle and reach up to lightly palm over the graceful line of his throat instead. His Adam’s apple bobs thickly under your hand with the rough inhale he pulls in, swaying between your thighs when he turns his head to blink at you as if he were drunk and seeing double. But at least it looked like you had his attention again. 

“You need to watch your volume. If someone hears us, that's going to make having breakfast together way more awkward than I’d like.” You warn him, keeping your voice gentle and soft. For someone who’d acted with such overwhelming confidence on his home turf he’d quickly proven himself skittish and easy to fluster once you got your hands on him. You didn’t want to scare him off after all the effort you’d had to put in just to get this far. 

“I … I’m sorry.” He mutters with no shortage of Herculean effort. Gone are the impeccable manners and lofty words of the head of the Oak Family, and in their place there was now only a raw vulnerability you hadn’t expected to see in him. “It seems I’ve — forgotten myself. How embarrassing. I - I’ve never …”

“Been touched like this?” You supply, giving his balls a featherlight palpitation for emphasis. 

It’s enough to make Sunday hiss through tightly clenched teeth though, squeezing his eyes shut against the sensation as he turns his head away. “Yes. I mean n - no. This is my … first time.” 

That makes you smile. “I can tell. You’re so sensitive, Sunny. Haven’t you ever thought to touch yourself before?” 

His little wings flutter in response, flapping an irritable rhythm that makes the feathers softly smack against your face as if to bat you away. It’s hard to say if he was offended that you would even think to ask that of him in the first place or if it was because you’d used that insufferable nickname again but either way his reaction makes you laugh. 

Yes, there were a great many avenues of mischief the two of you could get into. It would be fun exploring them together, and this was only the first activity on a very long list of things you wanted to introduce him to. It was a bit out of order but maybe you could try kissing next. 

Your own excitement grows at the thought, and you eagerly swing your attention back around to Sunday’s lap. Giving his balls one last, gentle squeeze, you curl your hand upward so you can wrap it around his shaft and feel that silken skin under your fingers again. The seething noise he makes sounds suspiciously like that of a tea kettle getting close to boiling but he makes a valid attempt to keep his voice in check when you offer that rigid length another slow, savory tug. 

Unfortunately he quickly loses hold of that threadbare control as you reach the glans and the drag of your fist makes his foreskin slide up to bunch over the fleshy slit. The sensation seems to nearly bowl him over and he judders helplessly, squawking an oversensitized sound. Even with the threat of discovery an ever present danger, you still can’t quite stop yourself from grinning at his decidedly innocent, unassuming reaction. 

“Oh, Sunday … what are we going to do if someone comes knocking on the door because they heard you? Something tells me that look on your face would give us away no matter how we tried to explain ourselves.” 

He full on whimpers at that, sounding sad and deeply ashamed in at the implication of guilt. It’s clearly getting harder for him to maintain his usual cool the longer your hands are on him though, and you realize you’re going to have to do something to help him out. He was much too sensitive, too easily overwhelmed to roll the dice in this particular situation when getting caught together could mean the end of everything. 

Licking your lips, you momentarily consider choking him just enough to cut off his air supply and make it impossible for him to cry out. Your fingers idly flex around the bobbing curve of his throat at the thought. Although it’s certainly a tempting idea you ultimately think better of it, sliding your hand higher up to brush over his jaw instead. 

Finding Sunday’s mouth, you slide your palm over it and press down firmly to elicit a startled yet blissfully muffled sound from him. He jolts and lurches in your hold, as if only just now realizing the true scope of the danger he was in, but it’s much too late. 

Readjusting your hold on his cock in the other hand, you firmly drag your fist down and then back up, settling into a steady rhythm that continuously works the foreskin over his receptive glans. Back and forth, back and forth, up and down; rubbing, sliding, sticky slick clicking in your ears. And Sunday outright shrieks behind your fingers, twisting and tossing his head like a wild animal caught in a trap. His belt rattles softly where it’s spread open across his thighs, still twisted up in his pants, and his wings slap a furious beat that has you turning your face into his shoulder to avoid the full brunt of his ratcheting alarm. 

He’s hard to keep ahold of like this, especially when he digs his heels into the floor and tries to wrench himself free, but your physical strength proves greater. Despite being a man and in spite of having a few inches on you in height, he just isn’t equipped to fight you off. Not when you’ve got his cock in one hand, stroking it with the continuous glide of your palm over all of that sinfully smooth flesh, and the halfhearted way he shoves at your arms quickly morphs into desperate grabbing instead. 

Blindly, he latches onto you; your thighs where they bracket his shuddering hips, the bend of your arm, so he can squeeze tight and hold on for dear life. His muffled sounds of pleasure turn dazed and intoxicated as he rigidly slumps against you at last. And when he tips his head back to rest along your shoulder, tiny wings still fluttering helplessly but starting to weaken and droop, you dare to lift your face to look at him. 

Wrecked is the only word that immediately comes to mind. His usually perfectly styled hair is tousled and sweat damp where it sticks to his skin in a few places. Cheeks so hot with color you know he’d be warm to the touch. It’s the far-away glisten in his golden eyes, once so sharp and pointed, now distant and too heavy to keep fully open anymore, that really seals the deal though. Sunday’s higher functioning mind may still have been fighting against it but his body was singing like a deftly plucked chord while the violently crashing waves of pleasure slam into him with every slide of your fist. 

Feeling devious and a little too eager to stop yourself, you take advantage of his draining will to fight it and adjust your hand over his mouth so you can plunge two of the fingers inside. He squawks a decidedly undignified sound at the sudden intrusion but even his attempt to turn his head away is half hearted at best. Only somewhat reluctantly does he allow you to probe at his squirming tongue, feeling the perfect line of his teeth scrape over your knuckles when you reach back just far enough to make him gag. 

The compulsion is an odd one, you understand that much, but it’s as if your own pounding excitement won’t be satisfied until you’ve thoroughly torn down every one of his mile wide defenses. You needed to leave him debauched and utterly disillusioned from his old role, his previous identity, or this wasn’t going to accomplish what it was supposed to. How else could he be expected to move on and undertake the journey ahead of him if he was still clinging to his old ways and holding himself to the same standards as before? 

Sunday needed to see that despite his once high-minded ideals he was still just human, that his flesh and blood body was not some great sin for him to reject or punish. That he didn’t need to self sacrifice and martyr himself just for his life to have meaning. You wanted him to understand that it’s okay to be a little messy sometimes, and there’s nothing wrong with letting go of his almost fanatically held control. 

So it is with a great deal of pleasure that you keep his jaw wedged open with your fingers, carefully moving them back and forth over his tongue while he whimpers and whines so sweetly for you. It doesn’t take long for the excess of saliva to build up and dribble out at the corners of his lips, his spine dramatically flexing when he feels that first unseemly rivulet run down his jaw. His mouth works futilely around your digits, alternating between trying to spit them out or to somehow swallow around them but it doesn’t work. The drool just keeps coming, slowly bubbling out to track sticky paths down his face. 

You even catch a glimpse of shuddering moisture wetting his lash lines but you politely look away despite the eager jump in your pulse at the sight of those tears. It would have been all too easy for you to tease him for them, really lean into the humiliation he was probably feeling, but that was not your goal here. Not this time, at least. 

Instead you focus your attention back on the hand wrapped around his cock. Your ministrations had slowed to a stop while you were stuffing his mouth full and now you can see the length of him, flushed a pretty pink that almost matches his face, flexing needily against your hold. He was leaking enough precum to smooth the glide of your next upward stroke, watching in fascinated wonder as the fleshy hood of his foreskin comes up with another soft click to make the clear discharge slowly ooze down the sides of his shaft. 

His hips wildly buck and he wails a garbled noise as he needily arches up off the bed, jutting his pelvis out as if in desperate supplication for more. Both of his hands have latched onto your thighs now and he squeezes them tight enough to hurt. But you give him what he wants, what he so clearly needs, pumping your fist up and down the length of him on a steady, energetic rhythm. 

Sunday freezes like that, poised with his back bowed and his body flexed away from the mattress. Distantly, you realize that he seems to have stopped breathing altogether, holding the air in his aching lungs while the rest of him stiffly shudders and twitches steadily closer to the edge of oblivion. He was beautiful like this, like something out of a tawdry, lurid painting of some ethereal being from legend or myth. 

“Oh, Sunday,” You coo at him, so soft and gentle. Coaxing him ever towards his own ruination. “Are you going to cum for me?” 

Wailing a frazzled sound of distress around your spit soaked fingers, he gives his head the barest shake as if to deny the simple reality of what was happening. Unfortunately his own body betrays him almost instantly, and you stare in rapt fascination when his narrow hips stiffly lock up before nudging forward in a reluctant thrust. He’s holding himself far too unrelentingly to execute the full range of motion but it’s enough to have him fucking into your hand in painful, tortuously slow increments. 

He just can’t seem to help himself or smother the urge completely, even when the rolling grind of his pelvis was clearly something foreign to him. But it’s instinctive and hard coded, muscle memory carved into the very atoms of his body more than anything else. And you can see the musculature in his slim thighs trembling fiercely, the flex of his stomach dramatic while he wheezes and gasps his pleasure into the otherwise still air. You knew your fingers weren’t doing as sufficient a job at muffling him as your palm would have, but you can’t quite bring yourself to move or even care very much about that right now. 

Especially not when he gives one final, stuttering thrust into the squeeze of your hand and his cock positively erupts in a sudden spray of white. Creamy and thick, it shoots up into the air on what you would consider an impressive arc before splattering across his front. A second jet quickly follows the first, and then a third, while Sunday all but sobs through his orgasm, wetly choking on it even as he gradually sinks back down to the bed in a drained heap of splayed limbs. 

The eager pulse along his length quickly slows, oozing yet more of that clear discharge to dribble down the length of his shaft in sticky tracks before at last subsiding completely. He’s already a complete mess with various bodily fluids coating his skin but you still give him one final squeeze and drag your hand up to draw the last little bit of his release out of his flagging cock. He seethes a delirious sound in response, head lolling back in doped out bliss while he tries to even out his breathing again to no avail. 

“How was that?” You prod, smiling to yourself as you withdraw your fingers from his mouth. A sticky wad of saliva follows after you, catching on his bottom lip, and you brush your thumb up to helpfully wipe it away, ignoring the mirthless, gasping laugh he rattles out. “It looked like you enjoyed it to me. Was that really your first orgasm?”

Somewhat awkwardly clearing his no doubt dry and scratchy throat, Sunday pointedly turns his head to look elsewhere. Still shy and reticent to openly show any of his emotions, but he certainly felt more relaxed in your arms than he had before. “I wouldn’t have any reason to lie about that, would I? Or do you take me for some kind of shameless masochist?” 

Allowing a brief giggle to slip out, you lean further into him so you can find his neck and deliver a soft peck to the still thrumming pulse under his skin. Sucking in a deeply flustered inhale, he snaps his attention back around to look at you with wide, startled eyes. That makes you laugh too, much to his pouting confusion. 

“What?” He demands at last. 

“Nothing. I was just thinking how cute you really are, that’s all.” 

His brows shoot up almost too fast for you to track the motion. “Cute? M - me? But I don’t —“

“It’s alright, Sunday. Just go with the flow. You feel pretty good right now, don’t you?” Grinning at the uncertainty that flashes across his face, you lower your chin to rest against his shoulder, much like how you’d first started. Realistically only a few minutes had passed but it felt like an entire lifetime had come and gone, and yet you were still right back to this again. 

In the following silence while Sunday chews on that and mulls it over, you rove your attention down to inspect the damage you’d caused. Luckily his coat had been more or less out of the way where you’d spread it open earlier, and it looked like the quickly cooling evidence of this sneaky tryst had mostly landed in harmless flecks across the darker inner shirt underneath. That was a small relief, if you were being honest. You didn’t even want to think about all the fussing he’d do if you stained his white jacket like that. 

“Well,” he says at last, rousing you from your thoughts. “While I still think your methods are unscrupulous and incredibly underhanded … I suppose I still owe you my thanks. I do indeed feel more at ease than I did before. Now if you’ll excuse me —“ 

Quickly looping your arms around his middle when he makes a move to stand up, you yank him back against you with another laugh. “Nuh-uh. We’re not done yet, Sunny. I need to help you clean up that mess first.” 

Choking on a protest, he reaches down to shove at your arms but you don’t budge, pointedly nuzzling into him from behind as if to prove that he wasn’t going anywhere until you decided to let him go. After another brief moment of cursory struggle, he finally gives up and slumps against you with a terse click of his tongue. 

“Really, is this truly necessary?” He grumbles under his breath, lifting a hand to subconsciously wipe the remaining spit off his chin with an air of distaste. “Haven’t you gotten what you wanted out of me already? I'd think you would be satisfied by now, Miss Stellaron.” 

You hum a sly sound at that, coquettishly walking two of your fingers up the front of his shirt to one of the bigger globs of milky white bleeding into the material. He goes still against you, mouth dropping open in what could only be abject shock when you swipe one of the digits through the mess before lifting it up to your face. 

Looking appropriately scandalized now, Sunday tracks the motion with wide, horrified eyes. “Wh - what are you doing? That’s —“ 

Popping your cum coated fingertip into your mouth earns you a strangled gasp and he tries to reel back from you as if in disgust. But you keep your arm locked around his middle, holding him firmly in place while you suck the digit clean. Sunday’s wings flutter an anxious beat and tuck forward to curl defensively over the lower half of his face but it does very little to hide the furious blush staining his cheeks. He looked even more like a ripe cherry ready to be plucked than when you’d been holding his cock in your hand. 

“It’s nothing to be so embarrassed about.” You tell him candidly when you slide your finger out and reach back down to swipe it through the sticky fluid on his shirt again. “You don’t taste bad, if that’s what you’re thinking. I like how you feel in my mouth.” 

His eyes nervously darting from side to side, up and down, anywhere but directly at you, he tries to speak, croaks, and then awkwardly clears his throat again. “But - but that’s … unhygienic, isn’t it? That came out of my … my - -“ 

Softly laughing at how dangerously close he seems to fainting dead away like some sort of swooning maiden in an old movie, you catch a clinging glob of his spend and lift it up towards his face this time. “It’s fine, I promise. You taste good, Sunday. I wouldn’t lie to you. Here, try it for yourself?” 

He makes a face at that, reminding you of a kid that doesn’t want to take his medicine, but at your gentle prodding he slowly lowers his wings. The drooping feathers brush against your curled fingers just so, almost making you tremble at their light touch as you watch him differentially drop his gaze. Submissive and pliable, a clear sign of his bending to your will. 

Your earlier arousal flares back to life with a vengeance, making you feel uncomfortably warm and damp between the legs. Holding the air in your lungs, you nudge your hand closer and he obediently parts his lips for you with a tiny, shuddering whimper. Eyes slipping shut when you slide into his mouth again so you can drag your fingertip across his tongue and smear the salty discharge, making sure he got a good taste of it, he issues a faltering breath that puffs against your knuckles. 

“See? Not so terrible, is it?” You murmur, your voice drawling at a lower octave than usual. Watching him come to terms with his own body was almost as distracting as the need pulsing in your loins, demanding attention and relief in equal measure. You wanted him. More of him. All of him. 

But would he have you? 

Groaning a threadbare little sound, Sunday flutters his lashes and cautiously opens them to peer over at you. For a drawn out moment the two of you just stare at one another, gazes locked and searching. Questioning. Begging. 

And then, ever so sweetly, he closes his mouth and gives your finger an experimental suck, swallowing down the evidence of your illicit activities. A stuttering exhale escapes him as you slowly withdraw your hand, giving him just enough space to breathe for a second. You wanted him to decide for himself how he wanted to proceed, what his next move should be. 

Because what you’d said earlier was the truth. You were not his jailer, nor were you going to willingly facilitate that self flagellating streak of his either. If he wanted to come to you it would be in mutual pleasure and enjoyment, as equals with a vested interest in each other's happiness. Not as punishment or penance for something you’d already decided to forgive him for. 

“M - Miss Stellaron, I …” 

The way his wings start to shyly curl inward again, wanting to hide behind them, brings another smile to your face. He really was too cute like this. “What is it, Sunny?” 

He sucks in a mildly bothered breath at that. “I told you not to — never mind. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. And you were right. It wasn’t terrible. In all honesty, nothing you’ve done today was … entirely disagreeable in my eyes. So if you’d like to … I mean, if it pleases you we could …”

“Keep going?” You helpfully offer up, making his expression pinch in obvious embarrassment. 

“W - well, should you insist I … I guess I wouldn’t have any complaints about that. But only if you want to. I don’t care either way.” 

“Sure you don’t.” Practically grinning from ear to ear now, you place your hand against his shoulder and push to get him turned around. He still refuses to look directly at you, evidently finding the pattern on your bedspread far more interesting in that moment, but he doesn’t change his mind or try to pull away when you lean into him. 

Tipping your head so you can dip into the space between his nervously fluttering wings, you find Sunday’s mouth and kiss him. Tentatively at first to see how he’ll react, but when all he does is whimper a flustered sound against your lips you press harder, letting your hunger for him dictate your actions. His hands carefully come up to slide around your neck while his wings slowly fall open, letting you in as he holds you against him, and you feel like you just might burst. 

To be wanted by someone like him felt like a blessing and a curse all wrapped up in one. By initiating this had you only sped up his ruination from perfect and holy to mere mortal, or had you just engineered your own downfall in the same breath? 

You’d find out soon enough.

⭐

Cross posted: here

[sttoru]

“you’re important to me, satoru.”

the words pierce through the comfortable silence. your lover’s closed eyes flutter open and stare at the ceiling for a second, unsure if what he’s heard was indeed reality.

his cerulean eyes eventually dart to your face. they’re filled with a rare sense of vulnerability, one that only appears around you. however it fades quickly when satoru tries to keep the moment lighthearted.

“heh, i know i am,” satoru chuckles, though you don’t miss the unusual softness in his voice. the white-haired man leans into your touch as your hands come into contact with his cheeks.

your smile lights up the room. it fills satoru’s heart with an undeniable amount of love— love that he has lots of. the kind of love that makes him dream of a future, his future.

the kind of love that reassures him that he’s someone.

“good! i’m glad you do,” you reply and pepper his face with kisses. your lover melts into your embrace and his head falls back against the pillows once more, his fluffy white hair pooling around his head, making him look like an angel.

satoru gently pulls you on top of him, the duvet around your tangled bodies rustling. the cocoon of warmth provides the both of you with a comfort like no other. “what’s with the sudden sappiness, baby?” he teases, booping your nose.

satoru doesn’t hate it. in fact, it’s the exact opposite. he cherishes the affection, the gentle reminders that he’s loved and will be loved until the end of time. even if no one in the world remembers him anymore, he knows you will.

you let out a small huff of laughter before placing a tender kiss on his lips. “just wanna show my man the love he deserves,” you hum and run your fingers through his hair.

as you speak, satoru can’t help but bask in your heartwarming words, drinking in your love and affection like a man starved of water.

you lower your head and leave a trail of pecks along his throat and collarbone. you eventually rest your head on his bare chest and hug yourself close to his body. his pecs function as a soft cushion for your head— a warmth you don’t ever wish to lose.

“. . you’re too sweet,” satoru sighs. his arms wrap around your torso and he squeezes you tightly, yearning to hold you as close to him as he possibly could. his heart beats loudly in his chest and he’s sure you’ve heard it. he then kisses the top of your head and exhales through his nose.

“you’re killing me, babe,” your small giggles as you jokingly complain about the lack of air in your lungs make him feel an incredible amount of joy. a certain joy he only experiences with you.

to your surprise, satoru rolls you over onto your back. his hands are on either side of your head, fingers curling around the silky material of the pillowcases. his eyes glisten with a deep sense of passion that he wishes to convey.

your lover captures your lips in a tender kiss, his white locks brushing against your forehead. “mhh— god,” satoru murmurs against your bottom lip after gently taking it between his teeth. his breath hitches when your fingers tangle in his hairs, “what did i ever do to deserve you, sweets?”

after a couple seconds, he pulls away. he’s breathless and so are you. “so much. you did and still do so much. hell, you deserve even more than this,” you reply without missing a beat. you want him to know that you appreciate him for who he is and what he’s done for you— for the world.

you shake your head and pull satoru down for another kiss.

his eyes widen and he swears that he can feel tingles spread through his nose. it’s that sensation which happens before the tears well up in his eyes. satoru isn’t one to cry so easily, thus he decides his best to hold back his emotions.

your lover shuts his eyes tightly to stop the tears from forming and holds onto you like you’re his lifeline. he feels so alive, so appreciated— he feels like he actually matters.

and he does. he matters to you. not because he’s the strongest and not because he possesses great power which others benefit from. but simply because he’s . . . himself.

satoru’s lips detach from yours. again, due to your body’s need for air. if it wasn’t for that, he’d kiss you forever. he rests his forehead against yours, his breath coming out in short and quick pants.

your half-lidded eyes look up at his as well. your fingers run up and down his nape while you lovingly stare at each other. a small smile tugs at your lips the moment you feel his mouth connects to yours again a final time.

satoru finally opens his eyes, his face hovering above yours. you’re left stunned by the sight of him like this; vulnerable, defenceless, honest and just pure. you adore it whenever he drops his over confident, playful and cocky side of his personality to make way for his inner self.

“. . you’re important to me too. very,” satoru responds to your earlier words, his voice gentle and sincere. he flashes you a subtle yet soft smile, his blue eyes glistening with tears that disappear as quickly as they appeared.

he lowers his head and rests it next to yours before taking in a deep breath, his mouth next to your ear as he whispers one more request;

“please don’t ever stop loving me.”

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Cowboy Ellie x fem! reader

Warnings: Sexual content (soft sex + oral sex + nipple play + hickies), cheating, reader is mostly neglected by her husband.

Word count: 1.6k

Ellie was no stranger to pretty women who were lacking in attention, their husbands much too blind to even appreciate the beauty of the the feminine curve of a woman's hip, or the sensitive junction between their shoulder and the base of their neck. No, those country boys were so entitled to blows and lasting 30 seconds inside of a woman who should be worshipped for hours. She was no stranger, yet Ellie was floored when she first laid her appreciative gaze upon you, and her most hateful scour upon your husband.

You were like any cowboy's dream, in your gingham sundresses and skin she could only imagine to be as soft as the skin of a peach; she wanted to devour you until your content was dripping down her chin, she wished not to hear a crisp bite from you but instead a deep, moist mouthful of you that she could savor on her tastebuds.

Perhaps, that is why she immediately snatched the opportunity to do so when you came crying to her about your (rather hideous, in her respective words) husband just not being able to treat you right. He'd come home everyday late from work, had female contacts in his phone you were scared to open, and worst of all (a detail you so casually slipped as if it were nothing), he couldn't make you cum.

Ellie was a friend of yours and you confided in her about all of this, how in the beginning of the marriage, he would fuck you, get his nut, and then fall asleep with his back facing you.

"No aftercare?" She would ask, sounding incredibly offended.

"Aftercare?" As if you had no idea what that even was. Oh, you poor thing..

That was only the first half of the incredibly hard-to-listen-to story you told that night. Your marriage was not a long feat, only three years; yet in that span, he went from at least trying to make an effort and sleeping with you to maybe asking for a blowjob once a week. The gall this man had, Ellie thought to herself. If she could, if you would let her, she'd march right up to that asshole with the intentions of setting him straight. Only, she didn't ask. She was selfish, and her mouth got her in trouble.

She leaned further into you. Her eyes were hesitant, but there was something past just simple care there that was clear as day. That man didn't deserve you. He didn't even deserve a second chance, but she wasn't going to let you leave with nothing.

"I know how to please a woman better than he ever could."

And upon much tension, upon your widening eyes but pitifully desperate acceptance, she'd finally have you and give you the night you deserved to have.

Ellie didn't rush you or ask for more than you'd give. Instead, she ghosted over your skin where your husband probably had never even cared to worship. The warm of her breath hit over your pulse, soft lips delivering warm pecks over it. She lingered to count each beat of your heart, how it raced underneath your soft skin.

She licked her sun-chapped lips and leaned in, halfway on top of your body so that she could tease you with the low rasp of her voice,

"Does he kiss your neck?"

Your next breath was but a hitch. "No."

"Do you like it when I kiss your neck?"

"Yes."

Ellie decided that answer, that soft but eager affirmation needed to be rewarded. Her soft pecks flourished into sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all over your throat, over the curve of your shoulders, and near your collarbone. From there, she lavished hickies over the bone and relished in your breathless, encouraging sounds. She pulled back, granting herself a whine from your lips that she'd like to kiss.

"Does he mark you up real nice like I just did?" Her drawl was thicker when she was losing herself in the act of pleasuring a deserving woman.

"I wish he did," you admitted quietly, as if you were ashamed.

Ellie rubbed over your sides soothingly, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "Ain't nothin' wrong with wanting it, darling." Then, she had an idea.

"Anything else you wish he did?"

You looked nervous to admit it, swallowing and nodding. Ellie was a patient woman, and she knew that sometimes it was hard to be open and vulnerable about what it is that a person wanted.

You only whispered it, quickly to get it over with. "I wished that he'd...go down on me."

Ellie wasn't expecting the sudden forwardness, she hadn't even kissed you. However, you were probably needy. Poor thing, all pent up after years of dealing with guys who didn't give a damn about your own orgasms or even emotions like she could, if you were truly hers. She could move things along, however.

"Would you like me to?"

You nodded quickly like a bobble-head, something she found to be endearing, but craved your voice.

"Say it for me, darlin'."

"I want you to go down on me."

Ellie was a bit flustered with that sentence, one she had been dreaming of you hearing just the night before. Her freckled face had a nice, red glow to it.

"May I kiss you first?"

Your lips were like tulips, soft and delicate. You tasted like whatever chapstick you wore, something sweet like candy but artificial, not that she minded much. She'd taste your real flesh soon enough.

Ellie didn't rush the kiss or harshly rip your clothes off. Instead, she let your lips linger against hers, sharing oxygen and exchanging spit. Ellie tasted like chewing tobacco with a hint of something much like vanilla. Her tongue against yours anything but harsh or gross, in fact a sensation you wished to feel forever. That was not the sentiment with your husband, however; he tended to kiss you like he wanted to nibble on you, not devour you or savor your taste.

When she felt satisfied with the kiss, she pulled away to trail down your body. Her lips suckled on the stiff peaks of your nipples once your shirt and bra were peeled off, mumbling just loud enough for you to catch, "pretty, so pretty for me."

Her mouth did not leave your chest to venture lower, instead taking its sweet time to kiss upon the fat there, savor the pebbled skin of your areolas, and let her teeth graze but not bite down. You needed sweetness, TLC. You didn't need anything more than that right now.

Ellie was a tease, and let you writhe underneath her, legs already parted and awaiting as she made her way down your belly, tongue swirling over the soft skin.

Her teasing was more worth it than all of the nights with your husband combined into one nightmare. This was like a dream you wished to never awake from.

She did throw your panties on the floor in a bit of haste, but with your clit and moistened folds, she took her time to taste. Like the skin of a peach, she peeled you back, parting your lips with her tongue to coax a gasp out of you. Her hand didn't force your legs apart, you seemed to have yourself spread enthusiastically wide enough for her. She took advantage of that, using a free hand to intertwine fingers with yours, struggling to not smile when you squeezed.

"Ellie.." you breathed when she circled your clit with her tongue, not denying you long with a soft suckle to the swollen bud.

Ellie devoured your pussy like it was her family's peach cobbler, tongue relentless and moans sporadic. Each time she got too much into her head about how perfect it all was, the way she could feel the fat of your thighs gazing or squeezing her head, she'd let out little hums of bliss or louder, vibrating moans when you cried for her. Though she liked to enjoy her meal, the difference between Ellie and your husband was that she did not pull away after less than a minute to roll over. Ellie did not stop until you came, legs quivering as you squeezed her palm hard, wave after wave of pure bliss passing through your body.

She laid with you in arms, drawing patterns on your warm skin. You were still vulnerable, soft and breathless, but Ellie had no plans on even pulling away for a second.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Her voice was softer, a sweet sound with a lull to it that made you sleepy.

"I did, but I don't know what to do now."

Ellie sat up, but continued to rub soothingly on your back. "What does that mean?"

"It's just.." You sighed, conflicted. "I don't want to go back to my husband after that. I don't think I could handle it, not after everything you made me feel." More than just physical sensations and the orgasm, Ellie had stirred something within you.

"That's okay. We'll figure it all out, okay? Just lay here with me and let me take care of you. You deserve that, at least."

You nodded and let Ellie hold you.

Within her own thoughts, she knew that this could end badly, not just for you or your husband, but for even her. You were still a married woman, and you had just figured out a whole new side of yourself that she couldn't fully help you with. However, she did know that she would be here to kiss you when your husband wouldn't, and she had no intentions of pulling away when things got tough. For now though, she'd just appreciate your warmth and the trust you had in her for the night.

[warnersister]

Oh, how you’d changed him

Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: how you’d changed Tom and his life for the better, and how ridiculous his previous plans seemed after that.

Tom had carefully planned out his world domination, created his alias Lord Voldemort and the horrors that would go with him. He decided that he would single-handedly take over the wizarding world by any means necessary and reek havoc amongst the weaklings that surrounded him. This; a plan he had created since he was merely a boy, determined to return what this cruel world had forced upon him - sorrow and pain.

Until he met you. To Tom, you were like a breath of fresh air, an unbeatable presence with bright and hopeful features that offered a sense of peace in his life. You had been acquaintances since first year, however had become more familiar in sixth-year potions, just as he was plotting his first horcruxes along with the basallisk attack, you had been assigned as station-partners in the early September of that year.

When your names had been read Tom quirked a brow, however was not disappointed with the testily - having duly noted your previous achievements in the subject and feeling as though you could come in handy later down the line when his domination was more of a priority than his studies, but his world came crashing down when you turned in your seat to examine him.

Tom was lead to believe that he was incapable of love. A monotone psychopathic freak lacking human emotions, yet obtaining alien abilities. It when your eyes looked him over and your hair swayed behind your shoulders, he was unable to ignore the way his heartbeat quickened and breath faltered, in Tom’s eyes you were unfathomably gorgeous and he was unable to look away, a Medusa incapable of stoning her victims.

You held your hand out calmly and he admired the way your posture was straight and head held in a confident stature. “Y/n,” you said, lips soft and plump and voice soothing and gentle. “Tom,” he replied, voice failing him as he fumbled over his words with a stutter - something having never happened to him previously. You giggled at his mistake and he found himself enjoying the sound, instinctively making it his mission to hear it once more, unable to stop the smile appearing on his lips.

Tom also appreciated your knack for perfection. Your potions never failed to exceed beyond perfection and your applause was always deserved, taken with a humble nod to your peers before you set out defying the next odds in your path.

Naturally, Tom began to gravitate towards you outside of lectures, also. He’d find himself on the path to walk you to class or accompany you to the dinner table, or beside you in the library studying beyond the librarian’s patience and working hours. Tom found comfort in your presence and allowed himself to indulge regardless of what ‘Lord Voldemort’ told him to do.

Eventually, he’d offered his arm to stroll down with you to Hogsmeade on a chilly autum day, a few weeks before Christmas celebrations would commence and the winter solstice would turn the Scottish highlands surrounding you into an awe-worthy winter wonderland. “May I accompany you to Hogsmeade?” Tom asked with a small smile, holding his arm out to you while you friends giggled and pushed you towards him. You’d laughed with him as you threaded your forearm alongside his, joining you both at the hip while you replied: “yes, you may Tommy.”

Strangely, he never felt any kind of resentment to any nickname you’d give him other than his name. He welcomed your names with open arms and answered to nearly any plausible noun that passed his lips. He even bought you butterbeer to warm your frostbitten lips, sipping simultaneously while the barmaid offered a few obvious knowing glances.

You shivered as you walked on, the many layers you had adorned on top of your skin no match for the ever-growing cold attacking Hogwarts and found yourself struggling with chattering teeth. Tom immediately removed his long coat and wrapped it around you, admiring both the chivalry of his actions and the satisfied smile on your face when your body temperature started to rise. “No, no, Tom. You’ll get cold.” You said, a reluctant whine passing your lips to which he shrugged. With anyone else, he would’ve let you freeze to death, but not you. He would die for you, freeze to death if you will. “I’m fine, I’m more concerned about getting you back to the castle without hypothermia.” He says with a small chuckle, pulling you into his side by the waist. “I guess you aren’t so cold-hearted as you make yourself out to be, Tom Riddle.” He looks down at you and considers your words for a few seconds.

“You confuse me, y/n. I’ve never felt so warm and gleeful around a person yet you never fail to bring a smile to my face. Teach me how to do that.” I instructs but you shake your head no gently. “I cannot do that simply due to the face that you do it to me, also.” You reply, each exchanging knowing glances between each others eyes and lips. He leans down and traps your lips with his own, warming your body through a simple yet sophisticated gesture and from that day forward you were referred to as his girlfriend.

Of course, however he had also come clean about his upbringing and eventually the chamber and the basilisk. He had told you he was conceived under the influence of a love spell and believed that he was incapable of loving until he had met you. You laid on his bed as you talked; his head on your chest while you weaved your fingers thought his chestnut locks and listened to him. “I read a while back now about a recently investigated muggle issue called autism and it has occurred to me that you’re not incapable of love, you have asbergers Tom. I’ll read the passage to you later.” And all of a sudden all of his unjustified emotions and troubles made sense and he could finally find an unknowingly lost sense of peace within himself knowing what truly made him into the Tom Riddle he was.

When he took you into the chamber he’d told you all about his plan for domination and his large magical snake and how he had a few followers and you never judged him once. If anything you thought it was impressive that he yearned for revenge instead of acceptance but reasoned that perhaps an oversized snake and a killing spree were not the solutions he was searching for. The basilisk lived shrunken to normal size in a glass cage beside his bed after that.

And as the time went by and your relationship flourished, Voldemort seemed more like a past phase than a goal and was more focused on the life he going to create with you. He called his ‘followers’ pathetic and told them to get a life when they questioned his authority over their devotion.

Eventually, it came time for you to graduate and Tom’s hand was tightly clasped in your own as you looked at the castle for a final time. You were silent, acknowledging the end of this era and slowly coming to terms with it. After a while, Tom scoffed. “World domination.” He said with a smile shaking his head. “Who’s ever heard of such a thing?” He turned and picked up your bags along with his own. “Ready to go, darling?”

The two of you had shared your own compartment on the train ride home, others finding their own cubbies as Tom scared them off from sitting with you. Your head was rested on his shoulder as he read a muggle book to you that you had bought the previous summer ‘the great gatsby’. It was a deep and considerate book and made you think about your future, also.

“What’re we going to do now?” You ask out of the blue, interrupting his sentence as he simply closes his book and looks down at you, your face deep in thought. “Well,” he hummed, thinking for a moment. “We’ve booked that cottage in the Peak District for a few weeks, how about we think it all out then?” And you nod. “Sounds like a plan then.”

The next few weeks were spent waking together in the high peaks of the muggle countryside, simply talking and appreciating one another’s company and plotting your lives.

“Is it bad that I want to stay here forever?” You ask him, looking out at the sunsetting one warm winter evening. Tom thinks thoughtfully before saying “if it is then it’s bad that I want to stay here too.” As a pureblood witch you were born under the believe that muggle life was pointless and undeserving, and as had Tom - but together you realised you preferred the quiet and solitary, and not needing to use magic to do everything all of the time. It was a change. And it was nice.

One morning mid-august Tom was reading the newspaper and you were making you both toast. “Someone’s selling the property up the street.” He says and you sip on your drink and look out of the window. “What? The old farmhouse.” “No, the one with the long drive and vines up the side.” You sigh dreamily. “Oh, if only.” You say with a chuckle. “Darling we can afford it.” Tom says and you stay in silence for a moment, sharing the thoughts weaving through your minds. “It wouldn’t take up a large chunk of our savings.” He drops his reading glasses to the end of his nose and smirks. “We’re rich in muggle terms.” You laugh and shake your head at him. “You’re so humble, Riddle.” He stands up and slides his hands around your waist to hold you close as you share the view of the house in question. “We’re buying it.” He spoke after a while, finalising his decision. “What happened to the ‘I hate muggles and never want to be amongst them’?” You ask, turning to him with a cocked brow. He just shrugs. “They were Voldemort’s views. Not mine.”

Matter several months going back and forth with the previous owners and settling on an asking price, you were standing in front of the house- your house, beside tom, exactly how you had when you were leaving Hogwarts. “This is our house.” You say, not taking your eyes off of the scenic view before you. Tom takes you into his side and rubs your arm comfortingly before kissing your temple. “Our home.”

Tom became an Auror, acting as an undercover wizard in the muggle setting catching and reporting any source of dark or unrightfully used magic. You took up being a healer, training in the wizarding world but practising in your home village, being known as a respectable young doctor who all the elderly or adjacent citizens resided in to get treatment - and anything you gave them always worked.

It was a spring morning when you were down at the bakery picking up a loaf of bread for your dinners. “How’s that fella of yours?” The lady asked with a smirk. “Oh Tom’s fine, just left for work.” “Popped the question yet?” The old woman asks, elbowing you slightly. “We’re only twenty Agatha!” You say with a laugh. “Well, Arthur and I were married when we were nineteen.” She crossed her arms. “I thought you were telling me how much you hated him?” You laugh. “Oh he gets on my wire, but we were still married!”

That left you with the thought in your mind for the remainder of the day - you’d decided that Tom Riddle was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with and then some.

In February you both took a trip down to the Lake District and rented a boat house with a large lake, your jobs and ‘trust funds’ inherited from family members allowed you to do this rather frequently and easily, nothing out of the ordinary to take a trip for a long weekend.

It was at sunset, rather early due to daylight saving hours when you rowed out onto the lake to just sit in tranquility for a little while, appreciating the quiet time together. You’d rose to your feet, sure that you had seen an owl fly by and when you turned around, Tom was on one knee, box in hand. In the box, the ring of Salazar Slytherin himself with a bunch of roses in the other.

“Agatha told me today is Cupid’s holiday.” He say, voice just beyond a whisper as a smile grew on your face and tears formed. “You know, until I was sixteen I was asphyxiated with the idea of taking over the world, finding a victim to take the pain that I felt. But those silly little thoughts were gone when I met you, the only person I live and breathe for. I never thought I could, however I love you, yn ln. And it would do me great honour if you would be my wife.”

You’d kissed and hugged him and wept into his shoulder as you happily embraced - ready to start the rest of your lives together. There were no other young women in the village and your parents had practically alienated you when you went to live with muggles so the ladies who attended your doctors practise took you shopping for your wedding dress - Tom insisted on paying.

Dolly was brutally honest and Susan started crying, Agatha kissed you and called you her daughter and it was certainly a day to remember - a gorgeous fitting dress, white and highlighting your features gracefully.

You’d gotten married in the village church, an audience of your neighbours and close friends and a few companions from school, Agatha was your maid of honour and Greta your flower girl, gleaming smile on her face while her husband rolled her down the isle in her wheelchair while she sassily threw rose petals. And Dumbledore was sat in the front row, a smart suit on while he smiled at the man the little evil boy turned out to be, and the gorgeous woman you had flourished into.

It was a beautiful ceremony and a beautiful day. And you were now the beautiful yn Riddle.

In September, Abraxas Malfoy and his wife wanted to celebrate their wedding anniversary and asked if they would drop their son, Lucius off for the week so they could go away. You and Tom decided to take the week off work and look after him, after all, the young lad needed to be accustomed to his god parents!

One evening Lucius had pleaded with you to go sit in the garden and paint together and of course you complied, taking the supplied and the young boy on your hip, and headed for the grass to make a mess. And make a mess you did, there was red in your hair and blue on his white libel shirt, and hardly anything on the page. Tom watched from the window sipping on a cup of tea, watching as you interacted with the young boy so naturally, tickling his stomach and laughing as you played hidey-boo. It created an odd twang in his stomach, the same he had felt when he had first laid eyes on you.

One day when the boy had been reunited with his parents, Tom had been sent on a mission to retrieve an escaped boggart. During his time at Hogwarts, his biggest was recognisably his own dead corpse, but when he approached the creature, it’s form was your grave with him sat looking deathly ill beside it weeping. Your headstone read ‘a loving wife and doctor, no children’ his stomach dropped when he realised what he needed. What he needed right now.

He got home that night and held you close and cried, feeling you warm and full of life. You caressed his shaking body as you soothes him, and when he had calmed he had taken your face into his hands and cradled it, telling you suddenly “yn I want a baby.”

Throughout your pregnancy, Tom was tender and reluctant to let you move without him being beside you. He became more protective than he already was an even took an extended paternity leave just before your due date.

Prior to that however, he worshiped you like a goddess. He would make you decaf tea - something you grumbled about but he refused to listen. He stopped smoking his pipe inside the house, instead taking it to the end of the garden while he and Mr Garson next door chatted about his wife and you. He made you lay on the settee and sat on the floor beside your growing stomach while he read old wives tales from a book inherited from his mother. He even sang to it once or twice. After the sixth month mark when your belly was becoming noticeably plump to the point you could rest your tea cup upon it without it falling off, he began carrying you everywhere. Regardless of how far the distance, and the fact you were carrying another human, he acted as though you were a feather that needed assistance and carried you the way he did on your wedding night.

When you took your own maternity leave, he was even more pleased - before he’d sit beside you in your doctors office and never took his eyes off of you, now he needn’t a reason to why. In his eyes, his love was pregnant and needed tending too. He’d shower with you and lift your stomach until he saw the face of satisfaction he knew well and loved. And he’d be lying if he said the breasts you were growing didn’t make his mouth water, as well as the fact there was a possibility that he could impregnate a pregnant woman - a thought that drove him wild but alas after many attempts, it was eventually an unsuccessful mission.

And in the next July, Tom was sweating as he held your hand and felt a great pain as you cried in agony beside him. You were in a muggle hospital, Agatha had awoken in the middle of the night and heard your pained cries and ordered her husband, Mr Garson to drive you to the hospital which he did, adjusting his thick-lenses on his glasses and having to be awoken a few times at the wheel from Tom’s furious barks, but you made it on one piece, and at quarter to ten, you produced him a son, deciding on naming him Mattheo Riddle.

After giving him a bath, the midwife’s tried to take him away ‘give you a break’, but you refused. Groggily saying “I’ve only had him ten minutes why would I need a break.” And Tom soon shooed them off, getting into the bed beside you and holding your son skin-to-skin as he slept on his fathers chest, and you on his shoulder. When you drifted off he kissed the top of your head gently and whispered sweetly “well done, mummy.”

Tom was determined to be the father he didn’t have. And a good one at that.

Mr and Mrs Garson cried when you asked them to be the godparents, you would’ve appointed the role to everyone in this village if you could - your own little family larger than it seemed.

The newborn stage went by awefully fast and you and Tom self with every hurdle and hiccup together, all the nappies and sick, and the 3AM walks when baby Matty would not settle. It was gone and soon you had a walking talking toddler of whom you were both awfully proud of.

The chilly autumnal eves suddenly turned into even colder winter morns, Christmas was making its rounds in the muggle world and you and Tom had became accustomed to it. You decorated the tree, hung candles, sung carols, gave presents and ate specialty meals on the 25th. Tom sat in his armchair, Mattheo on lap, reading glasses down to the end of his nose as he read A Christmas Carol to him.

You were making dinner, Mince Pie was on the menu that night in particular, and you smiled as you notice the snow falling. You wiped your hands and leant against the doorframe watching your two boys in awe, just memorising the picture for a moment. “Are you alright, my love?” Tom asked, smiling up at you. “Just admiring the picture.” You say, mirroring his grin. Then you turn to your son. “I’m awfully sorry to interrupt, master Riddle. However, so I do believe it is snowing.” He gasped dramatically when he heard the news. “Snow! But we’re reading! But snow!” You both laugh at his dilemma then suggest “how about we eat dinner, then we’ll read out in the snow and make a snowman.” The young boy squeals in delight and runs to the dining room to eat, sitting ever so patiently yet with an impatient smile on those cheeky lips.

That evening you built a snowman, read the last part of the book, and put your son peacefully to sleep in his bed after singing ‘Silent Night’ to him. You and Tom basked in the sight for a moment, just taking in the calmness of the setting.

And as Tom looked down at you, he thought of how you’d changed him.

*scoff* Lord Voldemort, who’d ever heard of anything so ridiculous?

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟?

part one

Warning: Angst, cursing, Tired reader, really clingy Felix.

Summary: Y/n's exhausted and slowly breaking down.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Today was one of those mentally off days. Y/n’s body felt like it was on autopilot, moving without her full control. Every step she took seemed harder than the last, her mind foggy and clouded by exhaustion. Her stomach churned from the overdose of caffeine that had only made her feel worse, mixing with the emptiness of not eating anything all day. Her skin had lost its usual warmth, now pale and clammy, drenched in sweat as the lack of sleep began to hit its peak. It was a feeling she knew all too well, but one that still managed to knock her out every time.

She barely heard her manager’s voice through the haze, his words distant as he waved his hand in front of her face. “Y/n, are you listening?”

She flinched, her heart racing as the sound of his voice jerked her from the haze. Her eyes focused on him, trying to piece everything together. “Uh… what?” she mumbled, blinking in confusion, her brain struggling to catch up.

Her manager sighed but gave her a soft, understanding smile, though there was a hint of impatience there. “Oh right… I finished filing the documents you asked me to—”

“Great!” he interrupted, raising an eyebrow, his tone lighter now as he leaned forward. “Can you just go over them again and make sure there aren’t any mistakes?”

Y/n mentally groaned, the thought of reviewing pages of fine print when her head felt like it was splitting open. But she knew the importance. She couldn't afford to mess anything up.

He really was a sweet man—kind, professional, and understanding. It wasn’t his fault that they were all running on fumes. But the reality was, some idiot had royally messed up one of the key projects they were set to present. It had thrown everything off course, and now everyone was scrambling, working endless hours to catch up with the other departments that had their shit together.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get started right now,” she said softly, the words almost coming out as a whisper. She blinked a few times, gathering the willpower to lift herself from her chair. “May I be excused?”

Her manager gave her a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, dear. Thank you so much for your hard work.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “I really do appreciate it, more than you know.”

Y/n nodded, trying to hide the fatigue creeping into her bones. Before she could leave, he stopped her, holding out his wallet and pulling out his company card. “Here, take this,” he said gently. “Get yourself some dinner... well, technically breakfast.” He glanced at his watch, a guilty laugh escaping him when he realized it was already 3 AM. “You really don’t have to, but I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

She took the card hesitantly, his concern evident in his eyes. “You really don’t have to, sir. But… thank you.” Her lips curved into a tired but genuine smile, her mood shifting slightly, softened by his kindness.

He gave her a reassuring smile, watching as she stood, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the night’s work. "You deserve it, Y/n. Get some rest when you can, okay?" She nodded, grateful, and walked out of the office, the card tucked into her pocket.

It was around 4:30 AM when Y/n's phone vibrated softly on the desk. She glanced at the screen, seeing Chan’s name light up. His call was a relief in the quiet, late hours of her work shift.

“Baby?” His voice sounded husky, still laced with the grogginess of just waking up. His tone carried a trace of concern.

“Hey, Channie,” Y/n said sweetly, though her voice wavered from exhaustion. Her eyelids fluttered in an attempt to stay open as she balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear, all while continuing to work.

“Hey, where are you? It’s 4 AM…” Chan's words came out in a small panic. Y/n could tell he was still trying to shake off sleep, his voice deepening with worry.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’m still at work,” Y/n sighed, turning a page in her file while typing something up. She clicked a few buttons on her laptop before glancing out the window. The city streets were silent, the world wrapped in a peaceful stillness that seemed a world apart from her busy desk. “Mr. Ji asked me to finish something quickly... I'll be home in a bit, I promise.”

Chan let out a frustrated groan, but his voice softened. “Still at work? Baby, it’s 4 AM. Come home already.” There was a slight panic in his tone now. He shifted under the covers, careful not to wake up Han, who had been nestled against him the entire night. The warmth of his touch was still fresh on his skin, but his concern for her outweighed any desire to stay in bed.

“Yeah... I know, I’m sorry. But Mr. Ji is being really worried about this project,” she explained, the guilt in her chest growing heavier with every word. She didn’t want to add more to his plate. “I’ll be done soon. I’ll be home before you know it.”

There was a pause, followed by Chan’s soft, frustrated sigh. “I can come pick you up right now…” His voice was filled with worry. “You don’t have to be out so late by yourself.”

“No, babe—” Y/n interrupted gently, “it’s way too late, and you have practice in an hour and a half. Get some rest, okay? I’ll be home soon.” She spoke with a calmness she didn’t entirely feel, trying her best to soothe him.

Chan’s frown deepened, even though she couldn’t see it. “Who’s going to drop you off? You shouldn’t be out at this hour alone. It’s not safe…”

“I’ll ask Yi-so Unnie to drop me off,” Y/n reassured him, trying to sound convincing. “She’ll take me home. Don’t worry, please? Just go back to sleep.”

There was a long silence, and Y/n could almost hear his internal battle. Finally, with a resigned sigh, Chan let out a quiet, “Okay... just call me if you need anything, alright?”

“I promise,” Y/n said softly, a smile tugging at her lips despite the weight of the moment. She felt the stress melting a little with each reassuring word. “How are my boys?”

“They’re good, all asleep,” Chan replied, his voice lighter now. He’d finally crawled back into bed, pulling Han back into his arms, the warmth and comfort of his body providing a sense of peace. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension in his shoulders slowly ease.

"Felix is mad at you," Chan said, chuckling lightly, his tone teasing yet knowing. Y/n furrowed her brow. Chan knew all too well how dramatic Felix had been these past few days, sulking about how little time Y/n had been able to spend with him due to her hectic schedule.

Y/n sighed, leaning back in her chair, and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know, I know," she muttered, clearly exhausted herself. "Is he sleeping with you?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of concern, though there was a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Felix always slept with her every night, curling up beside her for comfort and companionship. Her long nights at the office had clearly been taking a toll on him, and that made her feel a pang of guilt.

Chan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, he's with Changbin," he replied, his voice still laced with a tired yawn. He stretched his arms overhead, the exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped.

Y/n’s frown deepened slightly, the guilt gnawing at her as she glanced over at the clock on the wall. "I really need to wrap this up," she murmured more to herself than to Chan. It was late, and she knew Felix would be waiting for her, feeling abandoned.

"He'll survive," he said, teasing again, though there was a comforting warmth in his voice. "But maybe just send him a text before you come home, so he knows you haven’t forgotten him completely."

Y/n gave him a small, grateful smile. "I will," she promised softly, though her mind was already on the long to-do list she still had to get through. The work would never stop, but neither could her relationship with Felix—she just hoped he understood.

“I’m glad to hear that. See you soon, my love,” Y/n replied, her heart aching as she imagined him lying next to Han.

“Did you eat something?” His voice was soft, his eyes growing heavy with sleep again.

“Yeah, baby,” Y/n responded, a tiny lie slipping past her lips. “Get some rest. You sound exhausted. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Chan murmured, his voice growing quieter. He drifted back into sleep, the call fading into silence.

Y/n smiled as she quickly hung up, her gaze drifting back to the screen. But the guilt still gnawed at her—she was only halfway through her work, and the night was far from over.

It was now 5:20 AM, and Y/n was almost done with her work. The office was quiet, save for the soft hum of her computer. She was confident she’d be wrapped up by 5:45. Letting out a loud yawn, she stretched her arms overhead before grabbing her coffee cup. The bitter taste jolted her awake, though only slightly.

"Hey, neighbor," came a familiar voice. Hae, one of her co-workers, knocked lightly on the office door before pushing it open. "Hey, love," Y/n greeted with a tired smile, her eyes flickering up from the pile of papers she was working through. "Are you done with work?"

"Almost," Hae replied, swinging herself into the office chair with a casual stretch. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Y/n groaned, rubbing her face and flipping a page in her book. "I’m so tired. I can’t wait to get out of here."

"Same here," Hae agreed with a dramatic sigh, flopping back in her chair. "So, once we’re done, wanna grab breakfast? We don’t have to be back until 8 anyway." She rolled her eyes at the thought of getting only a few hours of sleep.

Y/n laughed softly. "Yeah, sure. Mr. Ji gave me the company card, so we can go get something to eat."

"Great!" Hae beamed, standing up from the chair with a bounce in her step. "See you in a bit." She waved and stepped out of the room, leaving Y/n chuckling at how adorable she was.

The moment Hae was out of sight, Y/n’s focus returned to the computer screen in front of her, but not for long. Her phone vibrated on the desk, and without looking, she picked it up. It was one of her boyfriends, likely Changbin.

"Hey, bunny," Changbin's voice came through the phone. She could hear the sound of him rattling around in the kitchen, probably making his usual protein shake. "Where are you? Did you head out for work already?"

"Hey, baby," Y/n sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I didn’t come home last night. I’m still at work."

“What? You didn’t come home?” Changbin’s voice was filled with concern. “Why? That’s so unhealthy.”

She winced, knowing what was coming. "Yeah, but remember how I told you we’re behind because of one of my coworkers?”

"Yeah, I remember..." His voice softened, but she could tell he was holding back his irritation.

“Binnie, be nice,” Y/n scolded, cutting him off before he could say something sharp. "We’re almost done, though. Just a bit longer."

He exhaled loudly. "But you’ve been coming home really late these past few days, going to work really early. You barely eat and you're practically running on coffee. We’ve barely seen you.” He pouted, even though Y/n couldn’t see it. She could hear the concern in his voice, though.

“I know. I know,” Y/n whispered, feeling her chest tighten. She was trying so hard to stay composed, but the weight of everything was getting to her. The constant pressure, the long hours—she was on the verge of breaking down. "I’m just...really tired."

There was a pause on the other end before Changbin let out a sigh. "I’m heading to the gym right now, but I’ll swing by and drop off your jacket. You need anything?"

Y/n shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. "Don’t bother. I’m leaving the office now. You’ll probably find me home." She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice was tight, like a rubber band stretched too thin.

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked, his voice laced with worry. "I can grab you something to eat, too, if you need it."

"No, it’s okay," Y/n quickly dismissed him, trying to push back the feelings welling up in her chest. "I’m leaving soon. Go work out. I’ll be home before you know it."

"Okay..." Changbin’s voice was defeated, but he didn’t push her any further. "I love you. Call me if you need anything, alright?"

"I will. I love you too." Y/n's words came out a little too quickly, but she needed him to hang up. Her head was starting to ache, and she couldn’t bear to talk much longer. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Bye, my love."

She hung up, her fingers trembling slightly as she set the phone down. For a moment, she just sat there in silence, the office lights buzzing overhead. She closed her eyes for a beat, trying to steady her breathing, but the tension was too much. It was too much.

"Finally," Y/n huffed, letting the tension leave her shoulders as she stood in the empty office, basking in the quiet after a long day of work. She had managed to finish everything in time and turned in all the reports. She finally felt like she could breathe. "Hey, neighbor, you finished?" Hae's voice cut through the stillness as she leaned casually against the doorframe. She was already wearing her coat, a small bag slung over her shoulder, ready to head out.

"Yeah, just handed everything in," Y/n said with a relieved smile. "Lemme grab my stuff and we can go."

As she tossed a few stray papers into her bag and pulled on her coat, Hae lingered in the doorway, trying to make small talk. "It’s quite chill outside," she noted, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"Yeah," Y/n chuckled, the image of her boyfriend popping into her mind. "My boyfriend wanted to bring me another jacket just because it’s so cold."

Hae raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Aww, that’s sweet. How are they, by the way?"

"They're good," Y/n said with a soft laugh. "Probably really mad I didn’t come home. I kind of...forgot to charge my phone." She cursed under her breath as she fumbled with her dead phone. "Great timing, huh?"

"I've got a charger," Hae offered with a grin, pulling out a cord from her bag. "We can charge it at the cafe."

"Thanks," Y/n said, gratefully accepting the charger and slipping her phone back into her bag. She locked her office door and followed Hae out into the chilly evening air.

After they grabbed a quick breakfast at the cafe, they parted ways. Y/n didn’t realize until she was on her way home that she had completely forgotten to charge her phone after all. The day had already begun for most people, but for her, it was time to sleep.

When she arrived at the house, she could hear footsteps echoing through the halls, indicating that everyone was getting ready for their schedules. Y/n sighed softly, pushing her tired body to unlock the door. She stepped inside, shedding her shoes and coat, and called out, "I’m home!"

Her feet dragged on the floor as she made her way through the house, exhaustion pulling at every step. "Babe?" Leeknow's voice came from the kitchen, and he appeared in the doorway. Dressed in sweatpants, a hoodie, and a cap, he looked comfortable but clearly concerned as he rushed over to her.

"Why weren’t you answering our calls?" He asked, pulling her into a warm hug, his worry evident in his voice.

"My phone died, my love. I totally forgot to charge it," she explained softly, resting her head on his chest. "Are you good? Did you sleep well?" she asked, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"Yeah, I did," he replied, brushing a hand gently through her hair. "But you, you're burning up," he frowned, his palm coming to rest on her forehead. "Are you sick?"

"No, just really tired," she yawned, fighting to stay awake as her body screamed for rest.

"Okay, go wash up and get into bed. I’ll make you some warm hot chocolate," he cooed, guiding her toward the stairs with gentle hands.

"I just had breakfast, baby. Just get ready for work. I promise I’m okay, I just need to recharge before going back in," she reassured him, giving him one more soft kiss on the lips. "Go on, I’ll be fine."

Leeknow looked at her with concern, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. "O-okay... but I’ll come check on you before I leave, yeah?"

Y/n nodded, offering him a tired smile, before slowly making her way up the stairs, feeling his eyes follow her every step. His worry gnawed at him as he watched her sluggish movements, but he didn’t say anything.

Upstairs, the house was busy with everyone getting ready for the day. Y/n managed to sneak past everyone and into her room, where she quickly washed up and changed into something more comfortable. She turned off the lights, allowing herself to collapse into her cozy bed. A sigh of relief left her lips as she curled up, closing her eyes and letting the weight of the day melt away. The sound of the house buzzing with activity was drowned out as she finally allowed herself to fall into a deep, well-deserved sleep.

20 minutes hadn’t even passed by when suddenly her door opened and closed. She was too tired to open her eyes to see how it was but she could tell by the persons cologne.

Her blanket shifted, the soft fabric sliding off as Felix’s body pressed against hers, seeking warmth. His small sniffles reached her ears as he nestled closer, his head resting against her chest. "Y/nnie?" he mumbled, his voice thick with something between sleepiness and sadness.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered open slowly, the hazy room coming into focus. She blinked once, twice, before realizing Felix was right there, pouting, his soft features contorted with a mixture of discomfort and longing. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands cold against her skin as he nuzzled his head under her chin, snuggling into the crook of her neck.

"Hey, babyboy, what’s wrong?" she murmured softly, her voice thick with the grogginess of sleep. Without even thinking, her hand instinctively moved to stroke his arm, soothing him with gentle touches. She threaded her fingers through his tousled blonde hair, the faint scent of his shampoo mixing with the warmth of his body.

Felix let out a soft whimper, his voice muffled against her skin. "You didn’t cuddle with me last night..." His words were laced with an almost childlike sadness, his lower lip protruding in a small, endearing pout.

Y/N’s heart tugged, and she felt a wave of guilt rush over her. Felix always craved her attention, often joking about it, but tonight was different. He needed her, and she hadn't been there. "I’m sorry, Lix," she whispered, her fingers brushing through his hair again. "I had so much work to do. It was a long night…"

"I know, but still…" His voice faltered, and he tightened his hold around her waist, his body curling further into hers, as if trying to get as close as physically possible. "You’ve been working so much. You don’t even have time for me anymore."

The guilt in her chest tightened. Felix was right. He was always by her side, but recently, the overwhelming weight of her responsibilities had kept them apart. "Baby," she started, her voice low, "I'm really sorry. It wasn’t intentional."

Felix looked up at her with big, wide eyes, his brow furrowed in that familiar, pouty expression she knew too well. His voice wavered, vulnerable. "But… I don’t get it, Y/N. You’re always with Han and everyone else. When it’s my turn… I’m always the last one."

She felt her chest tighten at his words. This wasn’t how she had intended for him to feel, but exhaustion clouded her thoughts, making it hard to communicate. "Sunshine," she interrupted gently, her tone more fatigued than she intended. "Can we talk later? I’m just so tired right now."

Felix’s face shifted, a flash of hurt crossing his features. "Fine. If you don’t love me anymore, just say that. You’re always laying up with Han and the rest, and when it comes to me, you just ignore me…" His voice cracked as he pulled away from her, slipping out of her grip. His body shifted away as he sat up, the room feeling much colder without him against her.

"Felix, it’s not like that," Y/N protested, frustration rising as she tried to reach for him, her tiredness now turning into worry. "I promise, I do love you. I just—"

"Whatever," he muttered, his tone sharp now, tinged with bitterness. He stood up, pacing away from her bed. "You don’t get it, Y/N. You’ve been too busy for me. I’m not going to sit here and beg for your attention anymore."

"Please, Lix," Y/N pleaded softly, trying to push herself up from the bed, but her body felt like lead, heavy with exhaustion. "I’ve been up all night, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry."

Felix turned to her, his back facing her as he stood by the door, frustration radiating off him. "I get it, okay? You’ve got a million things on your plate. But it’s fine. It’s whatever." His words dripped with resentment, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the conversation had drained him.

Y/N’s heart sank as she watched him storm out of the room, the door shutting behind him with a soft thud. She sank back into her bed, her mind reeling with guilt and exhaustion.

She hadn't wanted things to get like this, but as she lay there, her eyelids fluttering shut again, she couldn’t help but wonder if the rift between them had gotten too wide to fix with just a few apologies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon!

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[ericscroptop]

Wet Dreams

✧ pairing: eric sohn x mid-size/chubby fem! reader

✦ genre: friends to lovers + smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) smut, kissing, cursing, slight angst, inexperienced reader, hand job, male receiving, lots of spit, fondling, praising/praise kink, pet names, talk of insecurities, body issues, internalized fat phobia, etc., pls be cautious because i know it can be a sensitive topic for some!

✦ word count: 9.3k words (LMAOOOO)

✧ synopsis: your friend eric invites you over to his house for a swim and it is then that you realize eric wants you in ways you would’ve never imagined for yourself.

✦ note: this fic is kinda self indulgent—written as someone who is mid-size/chubby and has insecurities. i just want people who have a chubbier/thicker/fat body to feel loved and be included explicitly in writings because we are all deserving of love and affection!

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You hated swimming.

Well— okay, so you didn’t actually hate swimming.

Your disinterest for the activity was not rooted in swimming itself, but for the fact that you’d have to wear some sort of bikini in order to swim.

Technically, there wasn’t a law that said you had to wear a bikini to the beach or the pool. There are plenty of people who happily choose to wear something like a t-shirt or cover-up that’s more generous while swimming for whatever reason.

There are also a plethora of bathing suits that exist, so there’s gotta be one that you feel comfortable in, right?

The thing is, you plainly felt insecure in showing skin. You were insecure of your arms that seemed to carry excess fat that was especially visible when you moved them. Your belly hung low and it honestly was more plump than your behind. You also had skin-colored stretch marks that decorated your lower back that never seemed to go away.

These were things about you that you constantly dwelled on no matter what. You couldn’t recall a day where the topic of your body didn’t flood your mind.

You had no problem in people showing skin at all. At the end of the day, the problem was simply your lack of confidence due to society’s beauty standards that have been shoved in your face, pressed into your mind, and flooded your ears for as long as you could remember.

Though today, you were attempting at conquering your insecurities and finally stepping out of your comfort zone.

It was scorching in L.A. today. It was too hot to go out but also too hot to just rot in your home all day. Even with air conditioning, you just felt nasty.

Your friend Eric invited you to come to his house for a nightly swim. A wave of anxiety hit you when you had read his text of the invitation. First of all, he was a guy— of which, you found insanely attractive.

He was a friend that you made in your Sociology course. You remembered how he randomly approached you one day to ask a question mid-semester about something that he could’ve easily found the answer to if he looked back at the syllabus.

Though, you were happy to help anyone who needed it and answered him nicely. Or maybe it was merely because he was probably the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on that actually approached you, so you didn’t think twice to reply to him—but you would never let anyone know that. He was appreciative, and since then, he decided to cling onto you since you showed him courtesy.

You honestly thought he would’ve forgotten about your presence or only come to you when he needed help, but he actually started sitting with you and even distracting you with mindless but entertaining conversations during lectures.

While you started looking forward to coming into class and now having someone to talk to, your only interest in the class became the charming guy who was energetic and always made you smile from ear to ear. You eventually told Eric that you needed to prioritize your lectures and cut back on the excessive side conversations during class. He decided to take that as an opportunity to ask for your number, so you guys could hangout outside the classroom.

You were shocked that he wanted to be your friend. You didn’t feel as charming or alluring as he was, but he still found interest in you. You guys started hanging out and doing things like studying (or trying to at least) and doing miscellaneous activities at least once a week.

He became your best friend all of a sudden. You were super grateful that he came into your life, but you still felt nervous around him. He was such a good guy. You didn’t want to take your friendship for granted.

Eric was also super outgoing and friendly, while you were more reserved and it was rare for you to make new friends and be spontaneous. Sometimes, you still wonder why he decided to become your friend.

Maybe you felt this way due to your insecurities, or maybe it was because you had this lingering feeling of butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were together. Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Anyways, for whatever the reason, you just tried to be a good friend to the guy. You didn’t want to fuck anything up and so you tried your best to please Eric and not be a burden in any way.

Now, you find yourself looking at your reflection in the mirror of Eric’s guest bathroom. You tug on your favorite oversized Spongebob shirt that you own, pulling it to where it ends just below your bottom. You were getting ready to finally swim, and Eric was already out by the pool waiting while you freshen up and change.

You sighed at your reflection with both of your hands placed against your hips, wondering why the fuck you’re feeling so uneasy.

You actually surprised yourself by deciding to wear a bikini for tonight. You purchased one awhile back just for the heck of it, even if you never mustered up the courage to wear it. The bikini was high-waisted and red with a twist front on the bottoms. The bikini top was also red and a wireless bra. It was actually super comfortable against your skin and red was a striking color, but all you saw in the mirror was your plump stomach screaming at you to be covered, and your cleavage just wasn’t elevated enough to your liking. Your arms were also bothering you, as you could only focus on the excess fat that was noticeable as you moved them. You probably were gonna look like a whale next to Eric and the thought made you uncomfortable mixed with embarrassed.

So that’s why you brought a t-shirt to swim in just incase you chickened out. There’s nothing wrong with having a shirt on in the pool. I mean, it’s normal! Though, you couldn’t help but feel ashamed that you felt like shielding yourself and not letting yourself wear that bikini freely. It was only going to be you two together, so why were you making it so complicated?

“Fucking hell.” you sharply inhaled and let out a heavy sigh. You stared deeply into the mirror one last time, picking at your skin as you had no makeup on. Another thing you felt insecure about. You always had makeup on around Eric, but this time you didn’t for obvious reasons. “Ugh, whatever.” you groaned out before finally leaving the bathroom, fed up with all this negativity you felt towards yourself.

I mean, why did you care so fucking much? You knew deep down that Eric would never judge you. Any normal person wouldn’t think so hard about going for a swim. This is a casual activity, why were you overthinking it?

You walked through Eric’s massive house towards his patio. You already knew the ropes around his house, since this wasn’t your first time here. Though, you had only been here for things like baking brownies on Friday nights and playing Super Mario Party on the Nintendo Switch, not for using the pool.

You reached the glass sliding door that opened the patio and led yourself outside. His patio lights were on, illuminating his backyard so that it wasn’t completely dark out. You spotted Eric sitting on one of the pool chairs, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram reels obnoxiously loud on his phone. He seemed to be passing time while waiting for you before he got into the pool.

“Hey, you.” you made your way over to where he was sitting with a smile on your face.

Eric perked up at the sound of your voice and abandoned his phone, twisting his body towards you. “Finally! I was seriously about to call you to ask what’s taking so long.” Eric mimicked your smile and adjusted his arms to where they were now leaning back behind him.

You felt a flush of heat wave over your body, not due to the humid summer night, but due to Eric’s appearance. His hair has been permed for a while now and you just can’t help but admire how good he looks in curly hair. His dark brown curls complemented his naturally tanned-skin so well. He’s also already shirtless, in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts and a chain adorning his neck. He also had a cute bracelet around his wrist and small hoops that dangled from his ears as they always did. Every detail of him just looked so beautiful to you.

You mentally slap yourself for gawking at your best friend. You scoffed in response, “I don’t doubt that you would’ve.”

He chuckles as he rises from his chair, brows furrowing in confusion as his eyes run down the length of your body. “I thought you were changing into your bathing suit?” he asked curiously.

The tips of your ears go hot as he questions. You stare at him like a deer in headlights, fingers going down to fidget with the tips of your hair.

“Oh yeah, I just didn’t like how it looked at me.” you shyly admitted. You couldn’t lie to Eric over small matters. Even if you were embarrassed, you still felt complied to always be honest when he asks you something. Though, it was hard to have deep conversations with Eric because he was a guy— of which, you possibly have a small crush on. This was all new to you and you were still learning on how to navigate your friendship.

“Why?” he simply asked, staring at you, eyes full of concern. You bit your lip as he looked at you, your body starting to get a little tense.

“I dunno, I just am not used to wearing a swimsuit,” you shrugged. “I actually don’t go swimming often so I’m not used to wearing one. I typically would just wear a shirt like I am now.” You rubbed your left foot against your right ankle as you spoke, starting to feel awkward in having this conversation.

“Oh,” was all Eric said, starting to frown a bit but quickly shook his head and crossed his arms. “You know, I don’t care what you wear as long as it makes you comfortable, but right now, it’s just you and me here,” he subtly smiles. “We’re gonna be in the water having fun and cooling off. I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but you’re safe around me.” Eric reassures you and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You half smile while looking down at your feet. “I know.” you simply agreed.

You suddenly look up at the feeling of his dominant hand now on your left shoulder, patting it reassuringly. “Y/n, you don’t have to be shy in front of me. We’re good friends, let’s be comfortable with each other, yeah?” His eyes were full of tenderness as you met his gaze. You pouted your lips playfully in attempt to not get sappy at his words.

He was right though. You just want to have fun and you’re letting your insecurities get the best of you. You know Eric isn’t an asshole. He never judges anyone’s appearance and you know he’s a sweetheart.

You nod your head as you take in his words. “Thanks Eric, really.” your face flushed as he shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me. I know people wear shirts in the pool but when I picked you up earlier, you said you brought a swimsuit, so I figured you wanted to wear it. You don’t have to feel shy.”

He licks his lips and pauses for a moment before continuing, “You always look good.” Eric rubbed the back of his neck and shyly looked to the side as his voice faltered uttering that last part. Your lips parted slightly as you processed that compliment. The corner of your lips then curled upwards and you let out a soft chuckle.

“Okay, I guess you’ve convinced me. It’s just us, right?” you said rhetorically, sighing deeply. I mean, you were mainly going to be in the water anyways, so why trip over this?

Eric smiles seeing you finally deciding to remove your t-shirt, allowing your bikini to be worn properly. You toss the shirt onto the chair he was sitting at, and adjust your bathing suit top’s straps. He timidly looks away as you do, grabbing his phone to connect it to his speaker to play some music while you guys swim.

You start moving towards the pool, ready to finally do what you came here to do and allow yourself to enjoy this time. Eric looks back up at you dancing to the song he put on while making way into the pool, your locks of hair twirling around your back with each step. His gaze then ‘accidentally’ wanders down to your red bottoms, his cheeks flushing once realizing he’s checking you out.

Oh wow. he thinks to himself as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to tame his thoughts, rubbing his lips against each other. He then hears you call out to him that the water feels good and to come join him.

Eric puts his phone down and looks at you, your form hidden underneath water, splashing and gleaming as your body felt more relaxed now.

“I’m coming!” He shouts before he starts running towards your direction. You start grinning at his words because you have a dirty ass mind, but it immediately falters once you realize he’s gonna cannonball. Your brows knitted as he made way closer, both hands shielding your face and eyes closed once he plunges into the pool, creating splashes of waves in your direction.

“Eric!” you playfully scold him for of course having to jump into the pool like a maniac. You rub your face after the splashes drenched your face and hair, tucking your hair back behind your ears, sucking in a breath. Eric emerges from beneath the water breathing heavily, laughing as he sticks his tongue out, grazing it over the corner of his lip.

“You’re such a guy.” you scoff at him, rolling your eyes. Eric raises a brow and then begins to splash more water your way. “I’m only having fun!” Eric raises both hands from his sides, gesturing to the pool and cheekily smiling at you as he shakes his head gently.

———————————————————————————

You two swam for about an hour. You guys tossed a beach ball for awhile, chatted about old gossip you always brought up when together, and even played mermaids upon your request— to which created plenty of laughter on your part seeing Eric take his role very seriously for awhile.

He then pleaded for you guys to race— which you initially declined, having no interest. He pouted at your disinterest, but started racing anyways. Water splashed all over your face for the nth time as he swam to the opposite end of the pool, leaving you behind sulking and rolling your eyes.

“I’m getting out!” you yelled and lifted yourself out the pool. Eric continued racing himself as you walked away to grab some towels nearby for the both of you. Once he made it to the end, he let out a sigh at your lack of desire to race. He clearly wanted to spend more time together in the water, but you were all tired out.

He sees your figure loosely drying your hair, and makes his way out the pool towards you. You met his gaze and nodded your head towards a towel you laid out for him. He silently thanked you and began drying himself, then wrapping it around his waist.

You ditched the now-damp towel you used for your hair and wrapped a fresh one around your figure, almost like a blanket. You both sat down together on one of the long pool chairs, soaking in the night while letting the air dry you guys some more.

“Do you wanna order some food? I’m really hungry,” Eric turns to look at you, your eyes meeting his at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah, before my stomach starts growling.” you chuckle as Eric smiles.

“Does pizza sound good? The usual, right?” Eric asks even though he’s already looking through his contacts, searching for the number of a local pizza place that has become a regular for you guys.

“Yes, please.” You cuddle into your towel as Eric calls the number, the pizza place answering after two rings.

He began ordering you guy’s usual and you can’t help but stare at him while he talks on the phone. His curly hair is wettish from all the swimming, some of the curls falling past his forehead. Every so often he’d toss his head a little to shake the hanging curls away from his eyes.

You just couldn’t help but admire how fine your best friend was. It was a crime that he walked around looking like a god. The jawline he had could probably leave a cut on your skin if you brushed against it with how defined it was. His side profile was beyond alluring and would make you double take when passing a glance. His beautiful, bronzed skin made him look so godly.

And he even had such a nice body. Eric frequented the gym, and his abs and muscles were definitely proof of that. He was proud of his body, and did his best to keep his prominent muscles defined by working on himself consistently. He was dripping with good looks.

Eric ends the call eventually and you’re ripped away from your wandering thoughts, crushing hard over your best friend.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Eric speaks in a playful tone, meeting your gaze after putting his phone down.

You awkwardly begin to laugh. “Just about how hungry I am.” you obviously lie.

Eric cocks his head and shoots you a grin. “You were staring at me, though.”

Your teeth began to tug on your bottom lip, before letting out another nervous laugh as you looked to the side.

“Well… I guess I was just waiting for you to finish ordering.” you replied nonchalantly, making a weak attempt at putting on a poker face even though you’ve already failed.

“You love spending time with me, huh? Can’t get enough of me?” Eric playfully hits your arm with his elbow, causing an ‘ow’ to escape your lips even though it barely hurt.

“Why do you always have to be such a tease?” you wrinkled your nose in question.

“‘Cause I like you,” Eric casually admits like nothing, his eyes having been scanning over your face this whole time since having ended the call.

Your lips parted as you blinked harshly, eventually letting free a forced laugh and your face forms a lopsided grimace.

“Can you be serious right now?” you scratched your head as you looked at Eric.

“I am.” Eric spoke softly, losing the playful tone completely.

He felt like he was gonna explode at his random confession. What you thought was harmless teasing was him actually flirting and him having romantic interest in you. You guys started out as friends but as time went on, he fell for you. After all the conversations and hangouts, he got to know you better and even from the first day, he thought you were such a pretty girl.

Though, he didn’t know when the proper time to confess was or if he even wanted to. You guys have such a solid friendship, and it seemed like you were fine with your stance.

Then again, you were very timid, so you often held back any talk involving feelings— at least with him. You weren’t the type to open up first. He usually had to question you to get an answer out of you— as much as you were willing to say, anyways.

“Like… as friends, right?” Confusion flooded your face as you hadn’t a clue of where he was going with this.

“Yeah, but… what if I said I meant it as more than that?” Eric had this hope-filled look clouding his face. He looked at you anticipating that you felt the same. Even at his random confession, he hopes that you can see how serious he is. That he didn’t just fuck up your friendship by making things weird and that you get the hint that he wants to be more with you.

“Okay— this is not funny. Literally, what are you going on about?” you scoffed and shook your head. You honestly couldn’t believe what he was alluding to. It just can’t be. No way in hell is Eric Sohn admitting that he likes you in that way. No damn way.

“I would never in my life joke about something like this, Y/n. I know this is out of no where— hell, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to tell you because I already appreciate what I have with you.” Eric sucked in a breath before continuing. “But I selfishly want to be more. After all this time together, I just can’t help but wanna be able to hold you and call you my girlfriend every time I am around you.”

“I… I honestly think i’ve fallen in love with you.” Eric breathed out and swallowed hard as he looked at your now-incredulous expression, his own eyes widening as he realized what he just said. Your mouth’s open in shock as you blinked excessively, trying to blink away at your now-moist eyes.

“With me?” you laughed harshly at him and Eric’s lips turned down. “I think you’re mistaken.” your gaze shifted towards your feet as you continued. “You cannot love me in that way. I’m just… not perfect.” You’re in utter disbelief. You were way too insecure for your own good.

Of course you fucking loved him back. You tried to ignore it for so long, your stupid little crush on someone you accepted you couldn’t have because you felt that he was way out of your league and your status remained as just friends. He only saw you as a friend, you thought.

You were you and he was Eric fucking Sohn. He was on the baseball team, athletic, a gym rat, popular, out going, a sweetheart, and hot.

While you in comparison, stayed home most days you had zero obligations, barely had any hobbies, and had like 3 friends.

You felt unloveable because of how insecure you were. You didn’t think someone like you was capable of having romantic feelings reciprocated. You felt unworthy. Eric could easily bag an L.A. model if he wanted to. So why the fuck is he here saying he wants to be with you?

Eric blankly stares at you for a moment. His face has gone pale and he feels his throat getting tight. He’s trying to process what you have said. Where is all this coming from?

“You’re perfect to me.” Eric reaches out for your hand and you get goosebumps at the action. Your eyes shift to where your hand is now in his, his thumb stroking your skin gently.

“Eric…” you barely whisper before removing your hand from his hold, looking away and missing the sadness in his eyes at the loss of contact and rejection.

“You cannot be with someone like me… I mean, look at me and then look at you! You are fucking amazing, Eric!” you finally look at him to gesture your right hand at his figure. “You could have anyone in this world and you’re trying to tell me that you’re in love with me? Have you seen me?”

Tears well up in your eyes as you remove the towel you had draped around you from your body. Your fingers roam around your stomach and you harshly pull at your love handles. “This can’t be what you’re attracted to!” you swallow hard, feeling so vulnerable right now.

You felt ugly. Society has told you that you needed to lose weight to be loved. You needed to be slim or appear a certain way in order for everyone to be kind and pay any mind to you. Not many people bothered to get to know you. Even though Eric has been your friend for a while now, you still find it hard to believe someone as handsome as him wanted to be around someone like you.

No guy ever showed any desire in wanting to be with you romantically or physically, or even as a friend. All your friends with ease had people lining up to be with them and you felt so lonely. So unwanted.

Your whole existence, you’ve always felt unworthy and everyone’s last choice. You felt like something was wrong with you and you’ve sorted accepted it.

Eric sat in silence as he took in your words. He had no idea you felt this deeply about yourself, how you saw yourself in a negative light. He thinks back to when you came out in your shirt and said how you weren’t feeling yourself in your bikini which prompted you to come out covered. You were self conscious. He looked at you with distraught and teary eyes. He was heartbroken to hear you think so lowly of yourself when in his eyes, you were practically Aphrodite mixed with an angel.

“Y/n, I didn’t know you felt this way.” Eric’s eyes softened as you looked down to the concrete, feeling ashamed and embarrassed of yourself right now.

“I’m sorry if anyone has ever made you feel unworthy or uncomfortable to live as yourself. I’m sorry that you cannot see the beauty in yourself.” Eric choked out.

“But I promise you, that you are so beyond beautiful inside and out.” he licked his lips and shook his head. “You don’t understand how beautiful you are. How much I enjoy spending time with you. Why do you think I insist we hangout at least once a week?”

Eric lets out a chuckle which prompts you to look up at him. “After every hangout, or even after every class we had together, I was already longing for the next time we’d see each other. I’ve been desperate for you… you consume my thoughts, Y/n.”

Your face turns crimson as he says all this to you, processing his every word. It did begin to make sense. He’s the one who asked for your number first. He always invites you over to his home. He actually seems to care about you. You chew on your lip at the realization. You were so caught up in your own self consciousness.

You never have imagined that someone could love you in this way in reality.

Eric notices you begin to soften up a bit and his lips curl upwards. “I like that you can handle my silly antics and loudness, and always laugh instead of seriously being annoyed. I like that you have such a kind heart, and are always willing to make time for others— even if that means sacrificing your own obligations and time.” Eric looked at you in adoration, like a puppy in love. You have to admit, your heart swells at his words, and it brings a slight smile to your face.

“Oh come on, you’re so cheesy.” you playfully slap Eric’s hand as you sniffle.

He bites his lower lip and rubs his chin before continuing, “I also like when you have your hair up in a ponytail and leave two strands out on either side. I don’t see you with your hair up often, so I get excited when you do have it up.” You grab a piece of your hair and begin to play with it, face flushed as he keeps going.

“And,” he pauses for a brief moment, blushing as he whispers the next part. “I like it when I see you and I can tell you’re not wearing a bra.”

You drop the strand of hair and look at him with wide eyes, face full of sudden shock. Are you hearing correctly?

“Your nipples are always so hard, baby.” he chuckles as his gaze moves towards your chest.

“Even now, I can see them poking through,” he nods his head at your breasts. You look down and move your hands onto your chest, feeling your nipples through the top. You glance back up at Eric, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“Was that cheesy, too?” he questions, tilting his head to the side, shit eating grin smothering his face.

“Eric!” you scold the boy and mischievously hit his arm for suddenly admitting he stares at your breasts often. Though, your thighs instinctively press together at his lewd words, face still crimson.

Your best friend has admitted all these things to you. He sees you the way you see him, and it all feels like a hallucination. You usually feel so insecure, but he sees you like gold. You’re nothing but stunned right now.

Eric laughs as he wraps an arm around you, making you shiver at the sudden contact.

His hand reaches over your shoulder, accidentally brushing over close to your breast, resulting in you jolting at the sudden action as you felt sensitive to the touch.

Eric immediately removes his hand and leans back. “Shit, sorry!” he doesn’t hesitate to say. He’s embarrassed at his attempt in being smooth. He doesn’t want to scare you off.

“It’s fine.” you shyly speak. You have to admit, you were getting a bit turned on. After him showering you in compliments and confessions, you were now slowly accepting that he actually does want you in the same way you’ve fantasized over him.

Not only does he seem to like you for your personality, but also physically.

“No it’s not. I don’t know why I thought touching you like that without permission was okay. You’re still vulnerable.” Eric feels guilty and moves his eyes to look away from you in embarrassment. You haven’t even responded on whether or not you accept his feelings. I mean, you seem fine now.

Of course your insecurities won’t disappear overnight, but you looked more relaxed. He just hopes you don’t feel the need to shy away from him anymore.

“Eric…” you softly speak. He looks up at you curiously, humming as your eyes are already on him, looking at him softheartedly.

“I love you, too.” you murmur tenderly.

Eric’s heart suddenly starts beating fast. He adjusts his posture and a smile creeps up to his face as he registers your words for a moment.

“Are you serious?” he looks at you excitedly with flashing eyes.

“One thousand percent.” you gain the confidence to reach over to run your thumb along his cheek, taking your time to caress him. Eric feels the hair on his skin begin to stand up as you touch him intimately. His eyes shut as you take in his face, feeling it for the first time.

You smile at how cute he looks, softening under just the touch of your thumb.

“I’ll be yours if you’ll have me.” Eric states, his eyes opening to look at your own glistening ones. His face leans into your touch, feeling so good that you’re finally embracing him like this.

“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.” you look up at him lovingly.

His heart swells at this moment. The moment he’s been longing for, where he can finally call you his.

Eric is going to make sure you feel loved every second of the day from now on.

He removes your hand from his face and holds it gently within his own. With his other hand, it is now his turn to stroke your face with his warm palm. You swallow as you feel yourself melting like ice at his hot touch.

Eric is so close to you, yet so far. You have him now, so that means you can do all the things you’ve longed for with him.

“I want you to k— kiss me.” you suddenly blurt out, gaining trust to do so.

Eric pauses his delicate strokes against your cheek, and looks at you in surprise.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” you shyly admitted. You fluttered your eyelashes at him and stared at him pleadingly. “Please teach me, Eric.”

Eric swears he feels his dick twitch at your eagerness. With a simple sentence, his brain feels like it’s on fire. Oh how he’s longed to kiss your pink lips for what seems like forever.

Your innocence is cute, he thinks. How you’re willing to open up to him like this. How you are allowing yourself to let him love you in this way.

“You’re so precious.” Eric breathes out as he begins caressing your cheek again. You look at his eyes that carry a sense of longing as he scans your face, soaking up your features.

“We can take it slow.” Eric murmurs and you nod.

Eric’s thumb moves to your bottom lip, tracing the lines and feeling how plump it is. Your palms began to sweat in anticipation, and your heart rate increases at the build up.

Your eyes are open still, watching him curiously as he grazes his thumb over your lower lip gently, which makes his own heart flood in an ocean of warmth.

Eric’s thumb drops and his dominant hand moves to gently cup your jaw. His other hand pulls you closer against his chest, hand now resting on your side. You slightly shiver at his touch, fingers dancing over your love handles.

“You can touch me too, baby.” Eric nods at you, seeing you’re a bit tense and don’t really know what to do even though you so desperately want to feel his lips on yours already.

You hesitantly place your hand over his chest, rubbing the area carefully. Your fingers graze over his nipple and his eyes immediately shut at the feeling. He inhales sharply at your movements, and you can’t help but chuckle seeing him affected like this just by your touch.

Your other hand rests on the back of his neck along the nape, beginning to tangle your fingers in his curls and it feels like home for the both of you.

You don’t know what to do next, so you just continue combing through his hair. Though, you finally close your eyes, signaling to him that you’re ready for a kiss.

Eric’s lips curl upwards at how cute this is— you waiting for him to take the lead. He finds you very endearing like this.

He caresses your side as he slowly pulls your jaw close. Your lips separate faintly while he does so, awaiting for your lips to meet.

His eyes shut as he captures your bottom lip within his lips. He tilts your head ever so slightly so that you don’t bump noses, and your fingers messily fidget with the nape of his neck as he gently sucked your balmy lip.

Eric’s lips against yours feels electric. You allow him to guide you and you slowly get the hang of it, you soon after kissing him back. The kiss feels so magical. The feeling of his lips against yours sends sparks all throughout your body. You feel as with every movement his lips make against yours, you’re bound to explode like a firework at the passionate sensation.

You lose yourself in his lips, his hands soothing your body in the process, and nothing else matters except for Eric Sohn kissing you.

He pulls back for a moment, and you both stare at each other in awe at what you’ve shared. Eric suddenly lifts his rear off the chair for a bit, removing the towel he had wrapped around his waist and tosses it on the ground. He then decides to pull you over his lap, seating you on top of him with your legs wrapped around him. Your mouth opens agape at the action, your hands moving to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Am I not too heavy for this?” you cringe, feeling like you can’t even be in this position for a second before it gets uncomfortable for Eric’s hold.

“Nonsense— you fit perfectly, baby.” Eric says. He spreads his legs a bit to make it more comfortable for you.

His hand rests on your back, fingers rubbing it soothly. His fingers trace the valleys of your stretch marks that decorate your lower back, and he smiles at the feeling of your skin.

“S’ gorgeous.” he murmurs, your cheeks heat up in response. Eric’s lips lean in to press against your pink cheeks, leaving tender, wet kisses all over your face. “You’re such a pretty girl.” he announces as you giggle at his affection towards you.

You crave for his lips on you again, so you take the risk of moving to glide your tongue over his bottom lip, begging to be invited in his mouth for seconds. A groan of satisfaction vibrates through Eric’s chest and he lets you in. Your tongues greet each other as your lips enveloped. A moan escapes your throat at feeling the wetness of his tongue against your own. You’ve suddenly lost your inhibitions after hearing all of Eric’s praises and tasting his pillowy lips. This kiss was sensual, becoming all hot and breathy in desire for one another.

Eric’s teeth gently graze over your bottom lip and you can’t help but move your body from the pleasure, resulting in you grinding down on Eric’s lap.

You pull back for a breath and your heart misses a beat as you feel something hard press against the fabric of your bottoms. You gasp at the foreign feeling.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Eric breathes out and goes to pet your hair. “We can stop if you want, just tell me.” Eric says, face turning red.

One of your hands moves to fiddle around his neck, admiring the chain that rested against his collarbones. You bat your eyelashes as you rub yourself against Eric’s crotch again, eliciting a deep groan out of him, his eyes drawn shut from your actions. You bite your lip at the stimulation it brought to your core. There’s a strange feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. This was all new to you, so it was very thrilling.

You lean over his neck and tenderly begin peppering kisses all over, his hips bucking up at the feeling of your mouth on his sweet spot.

“Mhm.” you whimper at the friction of his bulge against your core, which captivates Eric. The sound of your pretty moans and the way your body responds to him has blood rushing straight to his cock.

“What are you doing, princess?” Eric gently pulls you back from his neck, looking at your desperate eyes with his own, wetting his lips with his tongue.

You continue to rub your core against his crotch as he introduces that nickname. Your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers get lost in his curls once again.

“You like when I call you that, huh?” Eric nods his head at you, smirk prevalent on his face.

You whine at his teasing, hiding your face in his neck. “Eric…” you announce.

“Hm?” he hums, rubbing your back soothingly.

You pull back from his neck to look at him. He presses his lips together as you bashfully look at him. Your lips part in wanting to say something, but you hesitate in doing so, moving your gaze away from his own.

“What is it, baby?” Eric coos as he cups your jaw. “You can tell me.” he encourages you since you’ve suddenly gone shy.

“I— I want to taste you, Eric.” you practically whisper to him.

He chuckles, “You want more kisses?”

He sees you cutely furrow your brows with lips slightly pouted, gently shaking your head. “I don’t mean like that. I mean like… let me help you out.” with heavy lidded eyes, you gesture towards his manhood.

Eric’s lips gape slightly as it registers what you’re saying. He cannot believe what he’s hearing. You have no experience and yet you’re beyond eager. You’re so needy for him and it is fucking turning him on. He could probably cum right now in his swim shorts just from the kissing and grinding.

But, he doesn’t want you to rush into things so suddenly in the heat of the moment. He wants your firsts to be perfect. Even if you guys knew inside that you trust one another, he still wants to be sure.

“Y/n, let me take you on a date first at least, hm?” Eric rubs your thigh gingerly. “I don’t want you to do anything just because i’m hard right now. We can wait until you’re ready.” Eric softly smiles.

You’re still pouting, and let out a huff of frustration at his words. “I just want to taste it.” you whine out while your hips rut down into his, which draws a moan out of Eric, his fingers pressing deeply into your thigh in response. You sigh at the feeling.

“I’ve dreamed about giving you head since I met you.” you confess as you continue, drunk off the feeling of his cock through the thin pieces of fabric. “I promise I want to, Eric. It’s all I want to do tonight. We don’t have to go further than that— it’s what i’m comfortable with for now. We can save all the other stuff for another time. But right now, I just wanna please you if you’ll let me.” you babble, giving him pleading eyes and he see’s how bad you want it.

He wonders what happened to you being coy not that long ago— not that he’s complaining or anything, but you’re now feening over him. This feels like a dream. You wanted to please him so bad and he just could never say no to you, not in a million years.

He would be a fool to turn you down.

He lets out a deep sigh and tsks, his hands snaking around to grip your hips to keep you steady. “Okay, princess. I’d hate to ever say no to you.” Eric goes to chase your lips, sealing the deal. The kiss has you mewling into his mouth and he gulps hard at your noise.

You pull back from his lips and go to leave a tender kiss on the corner before he helps you get off his lap. You stand up as he stays seated, curiously watching your movements. You crouch down and your hands are on the towel Eric tossed earlier, starting to spread it neatly on the ground so your knees can rest over it.

“Here?” Eric questions as you get on your knees and your eyes lock. He bites back a groan as he has to now look down to meet your eyes, seeing you on the ground all submissive on your knees with your cleavage perfectly on display. It has him screaming internally.

“Yeah.” you say as you begin to stroke Eric’s knee. “I’m too impatient to go inside.”

Eric laughs and bends forward to press a kiss on your forehead, your nose scrunching cutely as his lips make contact against your skin. His hands then goes to cup your cheeks. “I’ll be as gentle as possible and guide you if you need it. Just tap my thighs or tell me if you want to stop. Okay, baby?”

“Okay.” you say and nod your head. Eric’s lips give you one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, and he lets you go.

You swallow hard, mentally questioning yourself on how you want to go about this. Eric watches you, smirking as he can practically see the wheels turn on your head. He’ll guide you, but only if he sees you struggling or if you ask for it. He wants to see what you can do, since you seem to be so eager for his cock.

You begin by inching a bit closer to his crotch, just between his knees. Your hands move to touch his abdomen, running your fingers along the defined lines of his abs. Your lips pucker up as you press hot kisses along his stomach, appreciating how beautiful Eric’s build was. Eric’s dominant hand goes to rest in your locks, massaging your scalp as you kiss his tummy.

“You like my body, baby?” a smug look is present on Eric’s face as he says so.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out shamelessly, pausing when you’ve gotten closer to the skin just below his belly button.

You soon remove yourself and he lets his hand fall while your hands move to the waistband of his swim shorts. You play with the fabric a bit in nervousness, still figuring out how you’re going to approach this sensual act and wondering if Eric will be satisfied with your performance.

You finally tug his shorts down and fully off. His cock then immediately flops up against his abdomen, slapping the skin.

You gasp at first sight of his cock. It’s pretty lengthy and fat, erect with precum residing on his tip. You gulped as Eric’s right hand moves over to his shaft, beginning to stroke himself as he nibbles on his bottom lip. With pursed lips you look at him, feeling tingly and flushed all over as he makes eye contact with you while he touches himself.

“You wanna touch it?” Eric raises a brow as he slicks his cock in his wetness. You’re salivating at the sight of his naked form playing with himself. He looks so pretty on display like this for you.

He lets go of himself and you finally start to test the waters, hesitantly grabbing the base of his cock and stroking the skin. Eric hisses once he feels your small hand over his base. “Fuck, baby.”

You bite back a smile at his reaction and you start to give the tip kitten licks while rubbing the underside of his cock with your thumb. The taste of his precum lands on your tongue, causing Eric to purr in pleasure.

“Starting off as such a tease.” he mumbles while his legs instinctively spread to give you more room and his left arm goes behind the back of his neck and head, giving you a perfect view of the little sailboat and paw print tattoos that decorate his bicep. So fucking hot, you think to yourself.

You experimentally press your tongue along the underside of his cock, gliding it over a vein all the way up towards his tip, then deciding to take the head of it in your mouth.

A hearty groan rips from Eric’s throat as he feels all these sensations, and you begin to bob your head over a bit of his length, your hand jerking off the rest of his shaft.

“Breathe through your nose, baby, and hollow your cheeks.” he advises you between breathy moans.

You slowly challenge yourself to go deeper, coating his cock with your saliva. Eric is entranced by the slurping sounds that start to escape your lips and becomes drunk off the feeling of your warm mouth encompassing his cock.

His eyes shut while his hips can’t help but buck into your mouth at the feeling. You choke at the sudden movement, removing your mouth and gasping for air, sobbing out a moan as his length pops out your mouth.

“Fuck, princess. Mhm— sorry, can’t help myself.” Eric chuckles, licking his lips as his hand falls into your hair, caressing it gently and keeps it from falling around your face.

Your eyes meet and you hold contact, both of your eyes each going dark with lust while you take him in your mouth again, your left hand running up and down on what you can’t fit while your right decides to rest on his balls, beginning to massage and fondle them.

“That’s it, baby! What a good girl, playing with my balls without being asked. Hmm— you’re an angel.”

Eric praises you and your moans vibrate around his length in response. Your sucking starts to become more enthusiastic at his praises. You remember to curl your lips over your top teeth so they don’t touch him when you start to feel confident to take him deeper.

Eric’s gaze is fixated down on you as you bob your head, being such a brave girl and taking as much of him as you can. Your head rotates from side to side while sucking him, and your right hand is still rubbing circles along his balls, groping them and loving how heavy they feel in your hold.

Eric can’t help but grip your hair a bit tight as your mouth is driving his body insane. You gag around him as you take a bit more than you’re able and he carefully pulls you off. You cry out as you breathe in the fresh air, a string of saliva still connecting your lips with his cock. Eric growls seeing his cock coated in your saliva and his precum, and then moves his vision towards your mouth, your own spit now raining down your chin.

You inhale sharply as you give your mouth a short break and your right hand starts to jerk him off, feeling the wetness of his shaft glaze your hand.

“You’re s’ so big, Eric.” you whine and your lips stay parted, running your tongue along the inside of your mouth. “Jaw is starting to hurt.” you whimper as you look up and flutter your lashes at him, throwing your head back, thighs squeezed together as you tighten your hold around his cock.

“Just a little longer, baby. Getting close.” Eric coos and guides your lips back to his cock again. You run his tip all over your lips like a lipstick, humming in satisfaction at the wetness. You want nothing more than to drown in his essence.

Although your jaw is growing tired, you’re desperate to make him cum. You force your mouth to open wider and bob up and down as far as you can, sucking more of him as much as your mouth can handle.

The suction and slurping noises start to become more frequent from you as you pick up the pace. Eric’s breathing becomes more ragged at your rhythms and pretty sounds.

“Mhm, fuck! Getting close princess— where do you want my cum?” his brows furrow as he peers down at you, tears beginning to form in your eyes when you bring his head far back enough to trigger your gag reflex.

You start to get sloppy with your movements and meet his gaze with your own pleading eyes as he attempts to pull you back by your hair, though, your left hand finds purchase on his base and your right hand’s fingers dig deep onto the skin of his leg.

He laughs in seeing you not having any desire to come off him, “So this is what you meant when you said you were hungry earlier, hm? Can’t believe my pretty, perfect girl wants me to cum in her mouth for her first time. So fucking hot.” Eric’s cock twitches and balls tighten up once he’s approaching his release, brows knitting together and mouth agape, beginning to whimper in overstimulation.

“Mhm— Eric!” you muffle around his cock while your pussy throbs from listening to his pretty sounds leaving his lips as a result of you and from his fat length twitching in your mouth.

You continue to suck and jack off sloppily what you can’t fit, and before you know it, his hot, creamy load coats your tongue and paints your mouth white.

Eric’s head is thrown back, abs and jaw clenching as his release creates spasms throughout his entire body, sighing your name over and over weakly like a mantra.

His cum feels hot, thick, and sticky in your mouth. His release tastes slightly sweet, and you swirl and swish it around your mouth before swallowing as much as you can.

Your eyes are heavy lidded as you gently suck the head of his cock like a lollipop in attempt to drink up every last drop of his cum. You bring your lips to the tip and kiss it a few times, rubbing his balls tenderly to soothe him.

“Atta’ girl. Good fucking girl.” Eric praises you, groaning with a raspy voice.

You huff out a breath as you remove yourself entirely from his length. Wetness from tears decorates your eyelashes and stains your cheeks, vision somewhat blurred from all the work you put on his cock. Drool mixed with Eric’s cum is dripping down your lips and chin, and you continue to let spit fall, your mouth open with eyes closed as you try to calm yourself.

Looking at you, Eric feels numb in the head seeing you all fucked in the face from his cock. What a gorgeous sight.

After a few seconds, you both slowly start to calm down your uneven breathing. Your hand goes to wipe off whatever is left on your face, but not before Eric tuts at you and carefully hoists you up against him, his lips attaching against your own in a beat of his heart. Both of your lips move hungrily in sync and you moan into the kiss.

“You did so well, princess. You were such a good girl for me. The most perfect girl, and all mine.” he growls in between kisses as he tastes your saliva mixed with his own cum, and places you on his lap. Your hands go to wrap around his neck and one of his hands smooths over the fat of your middle, massaging it lovingly while his other hand rests on your neck. You shift a bit as he does so, gasping once you become aware of how damp and creamy your bottoms are. Eric seems to feel your wetness over his dick, grinning as the tip of your ears turn red and your cheeks flush pink in embarrassment.

“Aw, my pretty girl is all soaked ‘cause of me?” his hand goes to play with the flesh of your ass and you whine at his words. He kisses your cheeks sweetly and nuzzles his nose against your own. His heart feels so full to be so close to you like this. To have you in his arms and sharing intimate moments is a dream come true. You feel the same as he embraces you and is so gentle to you, feeling so loved by your best friend turned boyfriend.

“Can’t wait to take you on a date and treat you like the princess you are.” he whispers. “Then, when you’re ready, i’ll be sure to make you cum as hard as you made me. Sound’s good, baby?” Eric murmurs and you grab a hold of his chin, ready to plant another kiss on his lips before the sound of a ring causes you both to jolt up.

Eric groans, eyes rolling back in annoyance as he twists his head to see that it’s his phone ringing. You press a quick kiss to his jawline as he answers it, massaging his scalp while he talks on the phone.

“Hello… Oh, you’re here?— I’ll be right out!… Sorry to keep you waiting… Okay thanks, bye!”

“Shit, the pizza’s here.” Your eyes go wide as you register the call and his words and you quickly get off Eric. He rushes to put on his swim shorts and immediately bolts inside to get the food at the front door, leaving you outside by yourself.

You laugh at how fast he scurries off and then you sigh at the feeling of your bottoms sticking to your core within all the wetness. “I hope he lets me borrow a pair of boxers or something.” you say out loud to yourself as you make your way inside, ready to dig into some real food.

As much as Eric’s meat filled your mouth up nicely, you could use a couple slices of pizza to now fill up your empty stomach.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[crystallizsch]

HDHDGHJDH HI HI 😭 you’re not overstepping at all!! in fact this is really sweet thank you so much and for the bday wishes as well 🥺🫶💖

i feel like i’m repeating myself but i can never not cry when i hear that i’m one of someone’s inspirations hfhjjdj like it still feels unreal to hear 😭

ANYWAY reading this made me happy, i’m glad to hear that i’ve had an impact 😭😭😭💖💕💖💕 this is already a gift in of itself, thank you so much im very grateful 🥺 and i hope you keep creating!! i enjoy the way you write 🫶

ALSO sending you back the best of wishes as well 🫶🫶🫶

OKAY HI LOVELY PEOPLES REALLY SAPPY MESSAGE BELOW 👇👇👇 (or feel free to ignore you do you 🧍)

this is so random but i’ve always wanted to say how im insanely grateful for people being incredibly kind since i started this blog at the beginning of this year ;; and especially the past few weeks??? like????? 😭😭😭

i was just posting silly twst stuff,,,, i didn't expect so much positive reactions/interactions and also the wonderful WONDERFUL bonus of getting to meet and know a lot of awesome people 🥺💖

the lovely tags and comments and the (SURPRISING) gifts and also the asks never fail to make me smile 🤧

and (this is already sounding really self-aggrandizing hfkdjdnjs i think but) also especially hearing that i've encouraged some people to start posting and stuff?????? im????? i still think about yall who said that to me and i still cant fully believe it 😭

just. eurhgdskfj shaking my fist at u imposter syndrome i’m really more than happy and appreciative i swear

also there's probably more things i forgot to say and idk how to properly end this but uhhhh thankchuuu guyssss 🫶🫶🫶 much loveeee, yall make me sob fr 💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖

[fireflysymphony]

Aventurine w a fem! bodyguard reader smut... 👀

Aventurine x fem! bodyguard reader

MDNI 18+ content ahead

A/N: thank you for the request! I really like the concept. I wrote it as a mix of headcanons and a quick drabble at the end. I hope you enjoy it <3

Word count: 2.7k

Content warning: Fem! Reader, slight exhibitionism, pet names, fingering, teasing, praise, needy lovestruck Aventurine, slight degradation, slight begging (on his end), pretty soft sex, Aventurine’s daddy kink strikes again, I have a lack of gun knowledge but just roll with it, not proofread

Headcanons

Let me make this really clear: HE’S not the one who needs protection right now; it’s YOU.

The second he met you he was sizing you up with that cute little smirk of his, making it pretty obvious that all professionalism was lost the very moment he saw such a pretty number was working for him.

You should have run then.

What was the IPC thinking when they hired you for this? Is this some type of wrath from the Aeons? What did you do to deserve this punishment?

From the very beginning, he’s a pain to deal with, but you don’t have the authority to talk back, only giving him tight smiles and apologetic words. He knows this and takes full advantage of the situation.

“Y’know, princess, if you’re going to be with me all the time, shouldn’t I have a prettier view? I don’t like having to leave everything up to the imagination. Do you think red or blue is more your color? Ah~ I’ll buy both.” And you’re sitting there seething as he taps away on his phone, seemingly oblivious to your displeasure. Was he just joking? What was he doing?

The VERY next day you see Aventurine holding up not one but two skin tight dresses with fabric only hiding your more intimate areas. It was more like lingerie than a dress like something you’d see on a stripper.

He evidently wasn’t just teasing you.

As politely as you could, you told him it would hinder your fighting ability if anyone were to attack, so you absolutely couldn’t wear it. He made some futile comment about how he’d love to see you try so he could get a peek up your skirt to, you know, “negate the traumatizing experience of him being attacked.”

In the end, you won the argument, and Aventurine threw a tantrum, muttering something about giving them to a woman who’d actually appreciate a gift like that. You told him straight to his face that he should just give it to the many women he brought to bed each night then.

The surprised and hurt look on his face will forever be carved into your memory.

After that, he actively stopped calling you by his nicknames which, deep inside, you missed, or it might just be the guilt of seeing his usually inalterable flirtatious self turn into a sad kicked puppy of a man. You held onto your pride though and forced yourself to bite back any apology or reconsiderations of his request you may have had. The man should have known your job was on the line, and his insensitive acts of fickle flirtation could not sway you.

The very next day he was up to his usual antics, and you got the impression that he only seemed upset to try to guilt you. Asshole. It only made you more upset with him. Did he like playing with your emotions?

Did I mention he loves it when you say his name? Sometimes he’ll ignore your presence just to hear you say “Mr. Aventurine? Boss?! Sir, I’m talking to you.” In your signature annoyed tone. It makes his heart melt. The only thing he can think of is imagining how your little pants and sighs of his name sound while he’s on top of you. How would you sound if you weren’t constantly annoyed at him? If he brought you pleasure?

Honestly, he was whipped for you from day one, and his actions might sound annoying and overly flirtatious, but that’s just how he shows love.

I could tell you so many things that this man has done for your attention, but that’d probably be the length of the Holy Bible. There are so many places this could go, but I think this instance of his sticks out the most amongst many akin to it.

—

You were used to casinos at this point. The loud blaring sounds of people playing the slot machines and thick, suffocating smell of alcohol were background sensations at this point. You couldn’t even bother to give them a second thought, not when a gun was pointed at the man you were supposed to be protecting. Safe to say the poker game was ruined. Champagne soiled the cards, shards of glass from the glasses littered the floor and table, and Aventurine, stupid Aventurine, had his hands raised in the air, his signature smirk pointed at the assailant like his own brand of deadly weapon.

“Hey, hey, now. This isn’t the place to have one of those, is it? Look, you ruined the cards!” Adventurine laughed, making a circling motion with his hand as if trying to gesture to the table of cards which were now soaked a yellowish brown color. Your hand rested on your gun, ready to fire at any sign of him about to pull the trigger. “Can’t we talk this out? I’m sure with a little persuasion you be happy to hand over-“

Your pistol fired later than his. Shit.

All that registered in your mind was the crying of two men, and Aventurine hunched over with a pained expression as he gripped his stomach. You were trained for this, but in your state of panic, you ran to him instead of making sure the attacker was dead. You scooped him up, struggling to carry him with your gun pointed at the now surrounded shooter while retreating from the casino. You wished you could make sure he was dead, but attending to Aventurine’s injuries were your first priority.

“You idiot. I told you to stop provoking people and look where we are!” You scolded him, Aventurine now quiet and clinging to your shoulders. You were too panicked to question his unusual behavior after just being shot in the stomach. “..If you’re worried, you won’t die. I got you.”

“I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Princess.” He laughed, setting his chin on your shoulder. Sensing something was off, you turned down an alleyway and skidded to a stop. He wasn’t screaming in pain nor were his cheeks stained with tears, even the adrenaline wouldn’t keep him from crying out, right? “I’m surprised it took you this long to catch on. No, I’m not-“

Before he could finish his sentence, you dropped him to the ground before crouching down and lifting his shirt up. No wounds in sight.

“Getting rather intimate, aren’t we? You should give me the chance to do this to you.”

“Shut up! What did you do, Aventurine?!” You demanded, yanking his shirt back down before leaning back on your haunches. He looked satisfied with himself as he shuffled to lean against the alley wall. His hat and glasses were gone, probably from the scuffle. He’d have her go get them later.

“Uh-uh, remember who you’re talking to, beautiful.” He smiled, running his hand through his hair and covering his right eye, the other one illuminating his face well enough to be able to see his features in the darkness. “But since you haven’t figured it out, I simply hired someone to shoot me with a blank which, by the way, hurt like a bitch still. I might still need you to kiss my booboo.”

He saw you were about to open your mouth again and placed a finger to your lips, shushing you. “And before you ask: I replaced your bullets with blanks too, so you didn’t shoot an innocent man. I’m not that cruel.”

“You’re cruel to me.” You murmured, knocking his hand away from your face. He smiled and gave you a little shrug, just like a mischievous toddler who was proud when he colored on the walls. “You're impossible. I can’t believe I was actually worried for your life!”

“Worried? I make crazy bets all the time, princess. Gambling my life is no strange feat to me, you should know this.” He smiled again, this time actually touching your lips with the tip of his finger. Your lips parted, the fabric of his gloves sending you spinning. How soft were his actual fingers? What did they look like under those gloves? Were they long, slender, and delicate, or did they have some edge to them, all calloused and rugged? You imagined the former; Aventurine didn’t do much. “But, I have a pretty good hand right now. I bet you won’t stop me from playing it and showing you my cards.”

“But you’re gambling with my feelings too. That’s different. I don’t like being used.” You steadied yourself against the wall, trying to rid your mind of thoughts about his hands. Wait, when did he get so close? You were backed against the wall now, Aventurine caging you there with his lanky form.

“And I’ll make it up to you, just relax, babydoll. I just needed to be close to you. I couldn’t take it anymore.” He placed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand fit perfectly with her cheek as if their bodies were crafted for each other. You weren’t so sure, but the way you were feeling right now wasn’t professional.

“Let me take care of you instead for a chance.” He left featherlight kisses on your forehead, trailing down the side of your face. Each kiss grew longer than the last, his lips unable to pull away from you. He cupped both of your cheeks, his lips nearly touching yours as he spoke. “You aren’t pushing me away. I did all this for a moment alone with you, away from prying eyes. Now the IPC can’t punish you if you indulge a little. Please, pretty girl, let me have this. Let me have you.”

You shuddered from his warm breath on your mouth, months of his teasing and antics festering inside you. Defeat was so easy in this moment, the taste of another person’s lips a fleeting memory ever since you got this job. His constant advances would only get worse the more you rejected him. Aventurine always got what he was due. Always. Whatever it be you warming his bed one night or taking you in the back of an alleyway, he’d get it. Deep down, you loved being chased, but now the hunter finally cornered its prey.

“Not again. Never again after this, okay? One time so you make it fucking count.” You grabbed him by his shirt collar, smashing your lips against his, the taste of champagne filling your mouth. He knew what he was doing and held the back of your head, tangling his fingers with your hair. Your actions caught him off guard though; he prepared for the crushing reality of you pushing him away, but you didn’t. Now he just needed to act like he knew you wouldn’t all along.

The softness of his lips lulled you into a daze, your hands aching from how tight you held onto him. Each time he pulled back for a breath, you didn’t give him much time to rest before your lips were on his again, asking for more which he provided with no hesitance. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, taking the delicate flesh between his teeth and playing with it before letting his tongue mold into yours.

“Someone’s a little needy. I could tell by the way you act that you’re pent up, but this is bad.” He fully pulled away with his face flushed, binding your wrists together and holding them above your head with one hand. He left open mouthed kisses down your neck to your chest. Not bothering to waste anymore time, he used his teeth to free your chest from the buttons of your blouse. “Fucking me in an alleyway like this? You must have wanted me from the beginning. Please say you’ve always wanted me, pretty girl. Please… please… fromday one, I’ve always needed you…”

He pulled down your bra with his teeth, kissing and sucking at your breasts with a hunger similar to that of a starving man. His tongue flicked over your delicate buds, moaning at the feeling of your warmth in his mouth. You were starting to think he was right. He acted like he really did need you. As you saw him buried in your chest, eyes filled with lust and desire, all your second thoughts faded to dust.

“Mr. Aventurine…” You tugged on his hair, blond locks soft as the finest silk. Of course he was soft and so delicate; he felt like he could break with one wrong move from you. How was he so torturous and annoying yet the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?

Aventurine’s heart stopped at the sound of your whiny cry of his name. The sound he’s been craving was more beautiful than he could have ever thought.

“I got you, my princess. You’re so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous.” He held up his free hand to his lips, biting at the fabric a few times before getting a hold of the glove and slowly pulling it off. He kept eye contact with you as he did, giving you the impression he was trying to be seductive about it. Before you could say anything about it though, he was already back to your body, hands roaming down to the waistband of your pants.

Within moments, your pants and undergarments were bunched at your knees, and Aventurine got straight to abusing your clit, your already slick folds acting as the perfect lube. “You’re so wet for me. What a naughty, naughty girl you are. So bad, you couldn't hold back that professional facade for long. Were your panties always dripping when you got home? Did you touch yourself and think about me doing this? What a fucking slut.”

He chuckled and collected the slick before shoving a single finger into you, letting out a louder moan than you. He loved the way you felt around him, how tight you were squeezing just one finger. “Fuck… so tight. Can you even take another?” He managed to get another finger into you, stretching you out as he twisted deeper inside of you. He worked at a slow pace while also kissing your neck and chest, selfishly leaving marks in his wake. Eventually, he sped up, losing himself as he pounded into you with another finger.

Your body convulsed, hiccuping in pleasure. “Fuck! Fuck! S-sir-! Shit, I’m gonna- gonna...” You leaned your head on his shoulder, biting down hard to silence your moans and other noises. What had been but five minutes, and you were already falling apart.

“So fast and easy. Cum then, you fucking whore, cum all over daddy’s fingers.” He demanded, slamming his fingers deeper inside of you. You threw your head back, crying out profanities you hope nobody passing by heard. Your walls clenched around him, a wave of pleasure crashing through your body as you coated his fingers in your pleasure.

“There you go, just like that. You feel so good squeezing my fingers like that, good girl.” He pulled out of you after helping you come down from your high, his long, slender fingers covered in your release. He didn’t waste any time in getting rid of the evidence, moaning at your taste as he licked himself clean. “So good, I love you…”

He hoped you didn’t hear that last part, biting his lip to silence the words he just spoke. Thankfully, you looked too dazed to care. If you brought it up later, he’d tease you until you didn’t think it happened.

He let go of your wrists and embraced you, cradling your head against his chest and letting you put yourself back together. He kissed your forehead, mumbling any praises he could think of in your ear. He wanted to savor this moment because in a few minutes, he knew he’d be pushed away again. No matter how good he made you feel; you’d make it clear to him that you’d never fall for one of his traps again. That’s just the woman you were, and he didn’t make bets he knew he couldn’t win.

A/N: this kinda got out of hand, and Aventurine bangs his bodyguard turned into Aventurine becomes a menace (again). If anyone likes this, I’d be happy to make a part two with more detail on how they got together. I apologize to the requester if this isn’t what you had in mind, but I still hope you enjoyed it! <3

Requests are open!

[vroomvro0mferrari]

CL16 | Strategy to Your Heart

Summary: Ferrari hasn’t been doing well in the races lately, and according to Charles, there's only one person to blame for the bad strategies: you.

Charles Leclerc x colleague!Reader (enemies to lovers)

WC: 4.3K

Warnings: curse words, slightly misogynistic

Masterlist

Charles stormed into the garage, his eyes blazing with anger. His race had ended disastrously, again, and there was only one person to blame. As his race engineer, you were responsible for his strategy, which lately, had been lacking significantly and he despised you for it. The car was finally improving, yet he couldn’t seem to win a race. Simply because his race engineer managed to fuck up every time.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. “Are you trying to sabotage me?”

You looked up in surprise as he approached you. Charles' anger was clear as day as he got in your face, making your hands shake from anxiety and your blood run cold. Your expression hardened as the accusation settled, a glare replacing the shock in your eyes. You opened your mouth to explain, to say something – to calm him down, but he cut you off. 

“I don’t need your excuses! You clearly don’t know what you’re doing!” He yelled. The look on his face, and the posture of his body – which was much taller than yours – were intimidating. Never mind his unrelenting glare and the finger he pointed in your face before storming off to his driver's room.

His insult stung deeply. You understood that he was upset at how the race went, but he could’ve reacted differently. He just humiliated you publicly, in front of all your colleagues; he didn’t even let you get a word in edgewise. You could feel the anger bubbling up inside you at his behaviour. How dare he insult you like that? It wasn’t even your fault. You stared after him as he stomped away, before turning on your feet, storming off in the opposite direction.

You had known Charles for a long time now. Although you had never spoken much, you always greeted each other, until you got your new position in the team. Charles was already driving for Ferrari when you first started there as an intern. You joined in on meetings with the drivers and sometimes spoke to them during these, but you didn’t see the drivers much otherwise. After your time as an intern, you had gotten a full-time job and worked your way up the team, and now, finally, you had made it to race strategist for Charles Leclerc, where your decisions actually had an effect – or so you thought.

During all your years at Ferrari, the previous head of strategy, Rueda, always listened to and appreciated your opinions and suggestions for the race strategies. He supported your development over the years and saw you grow from an inexperienced intern to an expert with a unique view. Before he left Ferrari, he promoted you to Charles’ race engineer; he believed in your skill and thought you could provide unexpected, but well-working strategies that would lead Charles to victories. 

However, after Rueda left, and Ravin Jain took over the job of head strategist, your opinions were ignored. You worked especially hard to convince him you deserved your current position. You developed numerous possible strategies for every one of Charles’ races, running tons of simulations to make sure you had a strategy for every situation. You thought about all the unexpected circumstances that might arise and how to maximise the outcome for each of them. You knew exactly what to do in every situation to ensure a good ending position for Charles, but Jain undermined you every single time. You would present him with all the information you had collected, and show him all the possible strategies and which ones you expected would work best, but he would never listen to you. Jain would always overrule your decisions with different options that somehow turned out much worse. As a result, Charles lost so many more places than necessary, and missed so many more podiums – wins even – than he should’ve.

The worst part was that Charles blamed you for everything. You were new in the position of race strategist, and you wanted to leave a good impression on the team and, most importantly, have a good working relationship with Charles. In your line of work, teamwork and cooperation, and consequently trust, are incredibly important. You wanted Charles to You wanted Charles to rely on you for strategy, allowing him to focus solely on driving. But he couldn’t. He questioned every advice you gave – whether it made sense – and more often than not, it didn’t. The relationship between the two of you was anything but one of trust.

Charles didn’t know what was happening between you and the head strategist. All he knew was that the strategies were awful and he was losing races that he could have won. He didn’t know how amazing and thought-out your own strategies really were, and how good you were at your job if you actually received the opportunity to do it. As a matter of fact, he had never had a real conversation with you before you got your new role. Previously, you just hung around in the background, only speaking with your team and some work friends you had made along the way, but never directly with the drivers. Quite frankly, he questioned whether you were even qualified for your job.

Although Charles didn’t know much about you, his opinion about you was formed and unchanging. To him, it seemed you didn’t know much about racing strategies or engineering; the results of your strategies and your silence during the debriefs were enough proof for him. There was only one logical explanation for how you’d gotten your role in the team; you had gotten your position through favouritism – or perhaps you’d done the head strategist a little ‘favour’.

– – – – –

During the next race, Jain had done it again. You had developed the perfect strategy for Charles, you had worked everything out so you were prepared for every situation. But when you showed the results to Jain and suggested your preferred strategy, he told you that your strategies could be better and you should ‘try this’. You knew it wasn’t a suggestion but an order to drop your strategy and use his instead. The result left you feeling defeated. Charles would undoubtedly be upset with the outcome, outing his anger on you, while you couldn’t do anything to make it better.

From your spot in the garage after the race, you could already see him stomping towards you. You couldn’t blame him really, he had missed out on yet another podium due to a bad strategy.

“What now?” you muttered under your breath as you saw him approach, bracing yourself for another confrontation.

“What now?” Charles echoed, his tone mocking. “You’re asking me that? You couldn’t form a proper strategy to save your life! How did you get this job in the first place? Sleep with the boss?”

You whipped your head around at his comment, narrowing your eyes as shock and anger coursed through your body. You had heard comments like this many times before; Formula 1 is a man’s world and you know what the men around you are like. You know you shouldn’t have expected anything less from Charles, yet you had. You were surprised that Charles would say something like this—something so vile. Yes, you had never really gotten along, but there had always been mutual respect. In all your interactions with Charles, he seemed kind enough, even if he was frustrated with you; to make such a misogynistic comment was a new low for him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you even say something like that? Do you know how offensive that is?”

“You’re not denying it,” he yelled back at you.

You scoffed. “I’m not doing this,” you said, shaking your head before walking away, the tears welling up in your eyes. It felt like a betrayal. 

Charles followed you, “How about you explain why you keep screwing up my races?”

You ran your hands over your face in frustration as you rushed away from him, quickly making your way to your office. Charles had already upset you, and you didn’t want to cry in front of him – your job was already hard enough without him holding something like this over your head. If your colleagues found out you had cried on the job, you would never hear the end of how women can’t handle the pressure of F1. You tried to close the door as soon as you entered your office, but Charles was already there with you, staring you down. His arms were crossed in a nonchalant manner, but his face showed his annoyance clearly. “Well?”

You tried to avoid answering his question, but it seemed impossible. Even though you had kept silent (except for your scoff, that is), he wouldn’t leave you alone. God was this man frustrating. Your patience snapped.

“I’m not the one screwing up your races, Charles. If you have any issues with the strategies you should take it up with Jain, because he changes my plans every time.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, frowning.

“Every strategy I create, Jain overrules,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you closed in on him. “I come up with plans based on simulations, and data. I’m ready for every scenario. But he dismisses them and forces his own strategies, which obviously don’t work. You’re blaming the wrong person.”

Charles stared at you, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to confusion. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I tried,” you replied, frustration seeping into your voice. “But you were too busy yelling at me to listen. And honestly, I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly processing what you had said. “So, Jain is the one messing up the strategies?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “And it’s been incredibly frustrating to watch my hard work get thrown out and to then take the blame when it fails.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. You’ve been yelling at me for months when it wasn’t even my fault.”

“Why didn’t you do anything about it?” Charles asked.

You laughed at his question. “What was I supposed to do? You know how it is—actually, you don’t, because drivers are privileged,” you sighed at the frown on Charles’ face, “no one would have believed me if I had told them, or they probably would have agreed. And if I had gone against Jain, I would have been fired so fast,” you trailed off.

Charles sighed. You were right; how on earth were they supposed to fix this? Jain would just continue to override your decisions no matter what, and that obviously wasn’t beneficial to anyone.

“For the next race, show me your strategy, okay? We can look at it together and if I agree we can work something out. Together.”

You smiled dryly at Charles’ suggestion. If he agrees? Who does he think he is? Nevertheless, you concur, if only to get rid of him. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but Charles is satisfied nonetheless.

– – – – –

For the next race, you had prepared more than usual. After the first few encounters with Jain you had given up on preparing your races thoroughly; it felt like a waste of time. But knowing that Charles would listen to you, and you might finally get to use your own strategy motivated you. 

You carefully discussed your plans with Charles in his driver’s room, away from everyone else. He listened attentively while you explained all the possible strategies and the one you thought would yield the best results. This was the first time Charles actually heard you talk about the strategies with enthusiasm, and he admired your knowledge of the topic, although he was somewhat surprised after your previous interactions. Hearing your passion for your work and knowing that you weren’t the reason for the unsuccessful races finally allowed the much-wanted bond of trust to form.

“We're going to use your strategy,” Charles said decisively. “No matter what Jain says, we'll do whatever you think is best. You've thought everything out, it'd be foolish to do something entirely different.”

"And if Jain gets mad and wants to fire me?" You asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

"The results will likely be good, so there'll be no reason for him to get mad,” Charles replied confidently. “But if he does, I'll vouch for you."

You nodded in response, a nervous but grateful smile on your face. It was exciting to finally use one of your own strategies, even though Jain would probably reject your proposals again.

Your assumption was correct; during your meeting with Jain, he had once more told you to follow his strategies instead of using your own ideas. Although Charles had told you there wouldn’t be any reason for your boss to get mad if the race went well, you weren’t assured enough to follow his advice. You couldn’t take any risks with your job – you weren’t experienced enough to get a similar job anywhere else, especially with the reputation Jain had built for you. If you had to follow his strategy to keep your job you would.

To say Charles was upset with the strategy during the race would be an understatement. He didn’t know where it had gone wrong – you had discussed this, hadn’t you? You came to the agreement that you would use your own strategy instead of listening to Jain, yet you hadn’t. The things you were telling him to do were nothing you had discussed during your private meeting. Charles felt frustrated at your inability to follow through; you were ruining his chances of a win because you were a coward who wouldn’t dare to stand up to her boss and he wasn’t going to take it.

“Boxing next lap, Charles.” 

Charles scoffed at your order before responding, “Box now? That’s ridiculous! The tyres are feeling fine, I can stay out longer.”

You sigh from your position on the pit wall. “Charles, the team thinks it’s best that you–” 

“I don’t care what the team thinks! What do you think is the best move?”

“Charles–” you stammer, getting nervous from his reaction.

“You know the team always makes the wrong calls, Y/N. What do you think we should do?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the decision. If you go against Jain’s orders now and the race ends badly, you’ll be in big trouble. Charles said he’d vouch for you though, and the current strategy wasn’t going to get the team anywhere good either. You contemplate your options.

“Stay out a few more laps.”

Although you couldn’t see it, Charles smiled triumphantly in the car, knowing he had convinced you to use your own strategy. This was a good start, he just needed to do well now, to make sure you got your confidence back. So, for the next races, you would follow your own strategies as well instead of simply following Jain’s orders.

The race had ended up much better than anybody had expected, all thanks to your strategy. If you hadn’t switched up the strategy, Charles would have ended up significantly lower in the ranking. After finishing up his duties, Charles sought you out in the garage. You thought he would yell at you again, for going against your plan – going rogue, but he didn’t.  

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “Your strategy worked. Next time, we’ll use your plan again. From the start this time, forget whatever Jain tells you.” 

You nodded in response, a tight smile on your face. It was nice that Charles showed his appreciation for you. However, now that you were standing still instead of moving around, you were easier to spot. So far, you had managed to avoid Jain by blending in with the bustling garage, but Charles’s presence made you easy to find.

“Y/N!” Jain said loudly, making your eyes shoot over to him quickly.

“We need to have a serious talk! Follow me to my office.” The look on his face was scolding and his body posture showed his anger clearly as he walked off. 

You met Charles’ eyes for a second, a nervous smile on your face. “I better go,” you said before rushing after your boss. 

“I’ll come with you,” Charles responded firmly, joining your side.

“I said I’d vouch for you if Jain became angry. I always keep my word,” he said after seeing the confused look on your face.

Jain had already taken a seat in his office when you walked in.

“What the hell were you thinking? Ignoring my strategy?” he hollered.

You took a deep breath, mustering the courage to go against him, but Charles beat you to it, stepping out from behind the door.

“There’s no need to yell at your employee like that, Jain. Besides, her strategy led to much better results than boxing would have.”

Jain’s eyes quickly darted over to him in surprise, having missed his presence, before focusing on you. “You’re here to follow orders, Y/N. Not to make your own decisions. You disobeyed a direct instruction.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Charles had already started speaking, his voice steady but firm. 

“With all due respect, Jain, it’s clear that Y/N’s strategy was superior today. Her approach brought us better results, and we need to recognise that.”

Jain turned his glare to Charles, clearly not pleased with the driver’s intervention. “This is none of your business, Charles. She’s my employee, and she needs to follow my orders.”

“Actually, it is my business,” Charles shot back.

Your eyes darted over to him. This was not at all the right time, but he looked hot as fuck defending you like this. He hadn’t even had the time to change after the race, his driver’s suit hanging around his waist with his black fireproofs on full display. His hair was messy and his cheeks were flushed, whether it was from the race or frustration, you weren’t sure. You could feel your own cheeks turning hot at the sight, and you were certain a blush was spreading across your face, too.

“Her strategies directly affect my performance on the track. Today, she proved her worth. She deserves the chance to implement her plans without being overruled.”

The room fell silent as Jain stared at Charles, his anger simmering beneath the surface. 

No, not the right time at all.

Jain finally sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. You’ve made your point. But if it fails there will be consequences.”

You nodded eagerly, “of course.”

Charles nodded as well, happy with the outcome.

– – – – –

The next few races turned out much better. Without interference, you could confidently present and implement your strategies. And the results spoke for themselves: Charles consistently finished on the podium. His performance improved so much that even Jain had to admit your strategies worked better than his.

When the next race weekend arrived tensions were high. So far, your racing strategies had proved successful, but you aimed for more every race. It was certainly helpful that you and Charles were a good team. Ever since the issues between Charles and you were resolved, there was mutual trust, and Charles supported every strategy you came up with, even if it seemed risky.

You wished Charles good luck with a nervous smile before he got in his car and, as had become a ritual, he responded confidently with a “we’ve got this” and a reassuring smile that somehow always calmed your nerves.

When the race began you confidently pursued your strategy while Charles navigated the track with precision. Everything went perfectly: the pit stops as swift and smooth as could be and every decision moving Charles closer to the front.

There were only a few laps to go with Charles steadily in second place, closing in on the leader. He managed to get within DRS range and, as the team watched in anticipation, executed a flawless overtake, taking the lead in the race. The garage filled with cheers and applause as the team celebrated his amazing overtake. Meanwhile, a big smile overtook your features as you watched Charles drive on the screen in front of you. 

You stared in disbelief when Charles crossed the finish line in first place. The joy was immense; the whole garage was celebrating the fresh win as you hugged the rest of the team on the pit wall in delight. You had done it – your strategy had led him to a win.

Following your colleagues, you rushed to the parc fermé, wanting to be the first to celebrate this amazing race with him. You watched as Charles got out of his car, pumping his fist in the air in victory. The smile on his face was huge as he jogged to the team waiting to congratulate him. 

“We did it, Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a celebratory hug. You laughed at his antics but hugged him back nevertheless. If there wasn’t a barrier between you, he would have lifted you up and spun you around, that’s how happy he was. Two months ago he couldn’t have envisioned a win any time soon, and now he had managed to snatch up the first place, all thanks to you.

After his weigh-in, he walked back to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I want you to come up on the podium with me,” he said. 

“Ah,” he tutted, already knowing you would protest before you even opened your mouth, “it’s just as much your win as it’s mine.”

“Charles…”

“You deserve to be up there too! It’s your first win!”

You stared at him hesitantly.

“Come on, Y/N. Just this once. If you say no, I’ll just ask again next time, and the time after that, and—”

“Next time?”

“Yes. We’re obviously going to win many more races together!” Charles said with a childish grin. “Come on!” He continued, tugging on your sleeve.

You finally succumbed, nodding your head. “Okay, fine.”

“Ah perfect! I’ll see you up there!” He said with a big grin, before walking off to do his interview.

You used the time Charles was in the cooldown room to mentally prepare yourself. You were about to stand on the podium. Your face was going to be broadcast on live TV for everyone to see, and it made you nervous. You smiled nervously at the people guiding you up the stairs to the podium where you met Charles. He smiled comfortingly and chatted with you relaxedly while you waited for his name to be called out. 

When the time came, you tried to stay in the background, hiding behind Charles who walked out in front of you before taking your place on the separate podium for the winning constructor. From your position, you could see the crowd cheering for Charles while the Monegasque anthem sounded over the track. You admired the sea of red that was here for Ferrari, for Charles. When the Italian anthem played you made eye contact with Charles, laughing silently with him over your colleagues singing along loudly.

You gracefully accepted the trophy for the team, smiling and lifting it up after it was offered to you. The sound of your team cheering and applauding filled you with joy. You couldn’t be prouder of Charles for this achievement, and maybe of yourself too, especially when you saw the admiring look Charles was sending you. It made your thoughts hazy, tuning out for a second as you enjoyed this moment of glory while staring out at the crowd in front of you.

Then, suddenly, you heard the pops of bottles. You could barely set down your trophy before your face was covered in champagne.

“Charles,” You gasped. 

Barely able to breathe, you tried to cover your face with your cap. It was no use, however; the champagne was already pricking in your eyes as you blindly tried to push Charles away. When the other men on the podium targeted him, you used the moment to pop your own bottle of champagne. Of course, your goal was to completely douse Charles as payback, but he was quick to flee. Before you got the chance to properly drench him, it was already time for the podium picture. Charles grinned at you mischievously from his spot next to you. “You look good in victory champagne,” he teased. 

You glared at him jokingly. You were certain that you looked ridiculous with your cap askew and your clothes completely soaked in champagne, not to mention the mascara that was probably running down your face. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“Thanks, I think.”

He laughed with you, a gleeful look on his face. 

“How about we go out for a celebratory drink?” He asked with a gentle smile.

You noticed the more serious tone in his voice straight away. His expression was one you didn’t recognise; he seemed almost insecure.

Raising an eyebrow, you couldn’t resist teasing him. 

“Are you asking me out, Charles?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Well, yeah. I guess I am. What do you say?”

You laughed again, before nodding your head. 

“A drink sounds good.”

[writeriguess]

Heya! May i have a Mandalorian x fem!reader? She's like his mechanic or something but she's also very attached to Grogu and is very caring towards them both. Maybe they're out somewhere and are attacked and reader gets hurt protecting Grogu and Din realizes how much he cares for her?

author's note: Thank you so much for requesting <3

A Home Among the Stars

The hiss of pressurized air filled the workshop as you carefully adjusted the hydrospanner in your hand. Your fingers danced over the controls, tightening bolts along the Razor Crest’s engine panel. Despite the old ship’s wear and tear, it had a charm that only a mechanic could appreciate—or someone who spent hours trying to keep it in the sky.

And that someone was you.

“Din,” you called out, wiping your grease-covered hands on your pants. You didn’t care about appearances when it came to your work. “When’s the last time you actually replaced the heat shielding? This thing’s held together with spit and hope.”

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian clad in his beskar armor, leaned against the entryway, arms crossed. His helmet tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could almost feel his sheepishness.

“It works,” he said simply, voice smooth and modulated.

You rolled your eyes, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Yeah, well, it won’t for long if you keep running it into blaster fire and letting Jawas ‘fix’ it with spare parts.”

A soft coo interrupted your lecture, and you glanced to the side to find Grogu perched on a crate, watching you intently. His big eyes sparkled with curiosity as his tiny hands fiddled with a stray bolt you’d left lying around.

“And you,” you said, smiling warmly as you crouched in front of him. “That’s not a toy, little guy.”

Grogu tilted his head, holding the bolt up as if in protest.

“Don’t encourage him,” Din muttered, stepping closer.

Ignoring the bounty hunter, you gently took the bolt from Grogu’s hands, replacing it with a small, smooth rock you kept in your pocket. It was something you’d found on one of your countless scavenging trips—a perfect fit for tiny hands.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over Grogu’s cheek. “Much better.”

The child made a happy sound, clutching the rock tightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your chest warming with a tenderness you hadn’t felt in years.

“You spoil him,” Din said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

You straightened, shooting him a look. “And you don’t?”

Din shrugged. “He’s—”

“Special,” you finished for him. “I know. And he deserves to be treated that way.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the hum of the ship and Grogu’s contented babbling filling the air.

“You’re good with him,” Din said eventually, his voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. “He’s easy to love,” you replied, glancing at Grogu. “Both of you are.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately busied yourself with your tools, pretending you hadn’t just bared your soul in the middle of an engine repair.

Din didn’t respond right away, and the weight of his gaze felt almost tangible. You wondered what thoughts were running through his mind behind that expressionless helmet.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You looked up, surprised. His stance had relaxed slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you felt the sincerity in his words.

“Anytime,” you said, giving him a small smile.

The planet was quiet, almost too quiet, as you followed Din through the narrow, winding paths of the market. It was the kind of place that seemed like it had more shadows than people, where eyes lingered too long and conversations hushed when strangers passed. Din walked ahead, his hand resting lightly on the blaster at his hip, while Grogu cooed softly from his floating pod beside you.

“Stick close,” Din said, his voice low but firm. He didn’t turn to look at you, but you could tell from the slight tilt of his helmet that he was checking on you regardless.

“I always do,” you replied, scanning the area. The market stalls were packed with all sorts of strange goods: glowing crystals, exotic fruits, scraps of tech you couldn’t identify. Despite the eerie atmosphere, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity.

Grogu made a delighted sound as you passed a stall selling shiny trinkets, his little hands reaching out toward the wares.

“No,” Din said immediately, his tone that of a long-suffering parent.

“Oh, come on,” you said, smiling as you reached into your pocket. “It’s just a little shiny thing. Let him have it.”

Din sighed, but he didn’t stop you as you handed over a few credits to the vendor and picked up a small metal orb. You placed it in Grogu’s hands, and his wide eyes sparkled with joy as he turned it over, inspecting it like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re going to spoil him rotten,” Din muttered.

“That’s the goal,” you shot back, grinning.

The Mandalorian shook his head, but you could see the faintest tilt of his helmet that suggested amusement.

The moment of levity didn’t last long. A sharp noise—a blaster bolt cutting through the air—shattered the peace of the market. Din moved before you even processed what was happening, his blaster drawn and his body positioned protectively in front of you and Grogu.

“Get to cover,” he barked, his voice tense.

You didn’t argue. Scooping Grogu’s pod closer to you, you ducked behind a stack of crates, your heart pounding in your chest.

The attackers came into view a moment later—three figures clad in mismatched armor, their weapons raised. You didn’t recognize them, but their intent was clear.

“Hand over the kid,” one of them growled, his voice distorted by a crude helmet.

“Not happening,” Din replied coldly.

Blaster fire erupted, the sound deafening in the confined space. Din moved with precision, returning fire and taking down one of the attackers in seconds. But the others were quick, flanking him and forcing him to retreat closer to your position.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the small blaster Din had insisted you carry. You weren’t a fighter, not like him, but you weren’t about to sit idly by while he and Grogu were in danger.

Grogu whimpered, clutching the shiny orb you’d given him, and your resolve hardened. You shifted to shield his pod with your body, your eyes scanning for an opening.

One of the attackers broke away, heading straight for you.

“Din!” you shouted, but he was too occupied with the other assailant to intervene.

You didn’t think. You didn’t have time to. As the attacker raised his weapon, you lunged forward, firing your blaster. The shot went wide, but it was enough to throw him off. He snarled, swinging his rifle like a club. The impact caught you in the side, and pain exploded through your ribs as you hit the ground hard.

“Stay away from him!” you gasped, struggling to your feet.

The attacker ignored you, his focus locked on Grogu. Adrenaline surged through you, overriding the pain, and you threw yourself between them just as he raised his rifle again. The butt of the weapon struck your shoulder, sending you sprawling.

“Hey!” Din’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and furious.

Before the attacker could land another blow, Din was there. His blaster fired point-blank, dropping the man instantly.

The last assailant, realizing he was outmatched, fled, leaving the market eerily quiet once more.

Din turned to you, his helmet tilting as he took in your crumpled form.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice tight.

“I’m fine,” you lied, wincing as you tried to sit up.

“You’re not fine.” He was already kneeling beside you, his gloved hands hovering uncertainly before settling on your arm. “Why didn’t you stay behind cover?”

You glanced at Grogu, who was peering out of his pod with a worried expression. “I couldn’t let them hurt him,” you said simply.

Din was silent for a moment, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. Then, without a word, he scooped you up, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

“Din—”

“Quiet,” he interrupted, his voice softer now but still firm. “We’re leaving.”

Grogu’s pod floated along beside him as he carried you back toward the Razor Crest, his stride purposeful.

Back on the ship, Din set you down carefully on the small cot in the corner of the hull. He moved with an efficiency that spoke of experience, pulling out a medkit and sitting beside you.

“Let me see,” he said, gesturing to your side.

“I told you, I’m fine—”

“Let me see,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sighed, relenting as you pulled up your shirt to reveal the bruises blooming across your ribs. Din’s hands stilled for a moment before he reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examined the injury.

“You’re reckless,” he said quietly, though there was no anger in his voice—only something softer, something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re one to talk,” you muttered, earning a faint huff of amusement from him.

His gloved fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away, reaching for a bacta patch. As he applied it, you noticed how careful he was, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

“Why would you do that?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Do what?”

“Put yourself in danger like that.”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I care about him. About both of you.”

Din stilled, his helmet tilted down toward you. You couldn’t see his face, but you felt the intensity of his gaze all the same.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“I did,” you said softly. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, Din reached up and rested his gloved hand on top of yours.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with a depth of emotion you hadn’t heard before.

Later, you sat on the cot in the hull, your back pressed against the cool metal wall, a blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. The dull ache in your ribs had subsided slightly thanks to the bacta patch Din applied earlier, but the events of the day lingered like a storm cloud in your mind.

Grogu sat beside you on the cot, cooing softly as he fiddled with the shiny orb you'd given him earlier. Every now and then, he glanced up at you, his wide, soulful eyes filled with concern. You stroked the soft fuzz on his head absentmindedly, letting his quiet presence soothe you.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke your reverie. Din emerged from the cockpit, his armor catching the dim light as he made his way toward you. He stopped a few paces away, his helmet tilted slightly downward, as if he were unsure how to approach.

“You should be resting,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though you knew the strain in your voice betrayed you.

“You’re not,” he said, taking another step closer. He gestured to the bruises on your side. “That’s going to take time to heal. You should stay off your feet for a while.”

“And what about you?” you countered, raising an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you rested?”

He didn’t answer, his helmet tilting slightly as if to avoid your gaze.

“Exactly,” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t lecture me about rest when you’re just as bad at it.”

Din sighed, the sound soft but unmistakable. He stepped closer, lowering himself onto the bench across from you. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the hum of the ship filling the space between you.

“Why did you do it?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—something raw.

“Do what?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“Put yourself in danger for him. For us.”

You glanced down at Grogu, who was now chewing on the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “Because I care,” you said simply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Din didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His helmet was angled toward the floor, but you could feel the weight of his gaze even if you couldn’t see his eyes.

“I’ve seen people do reckless things for credits, for revenge, for power,” he said slowly. “But you… You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t even think about yourself.”

“I thought about Grogu,” you said, your tone firmer now. “And about you. I couldn’t just sit back and let something happen to either of you.”

His shoulders stiffened slightly, and you wondered if you’d said too much. But then he spoke again, his voice softer this time.

“You could’ve been killed.”

“I know.”

“And you’d do it again.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I would.”

Din leaned back against the wall, his gloved hands resting on his thighs. He stayed silent for a long moment, the tension in the air thick enough to cut.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

You frowned, tilting your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my job to protect him,” he said, his tone almost bitter. “And you. I should’ve been faster, better. You shouldn’t have had to step in.”

The guilt in his voice was palpable, and it twisted something in your chest. You leaned forward, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm.

“Din, you can’t be everywhere at once,” you said gently. “You did everything you could. You always do.”

He didn’t pull away from your touch, but his posture remained rigid. “It’s not enough,” he murmured.

“It is,” you insisted. “And even if it wasn’t, we’re a team, aren’t we? You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

He finally turned his helmet toward you, the reflective surface catching the faint light of the hull. “A team,” he repeated, as if testing the word.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “And a team watches out for each other. That’s what I was doing. Watching out for you and Grogu.”

Grogu chose that moment to coo softly, reaching out with his tiny hands to touch Din’s armored knee. The gesture seemed to break through some of the tension, and Din let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“You spoil him,” he said, though his tone lacked any real admonishment.

“Someone has to,” you replied with a grin.

Din fell quiet again, but this time the silence felt different—less heavy, more contemplative. He reached out, gently brushing his gloved fingers over Grogu’s ear, eliciting a delighted squeal from the child.

“He cares about you,” Din said, his voice warm. “More than I’ve seen him care about anyone else.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and you swallowed hard before answering. “I care about him, too. And you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than you intended. Din’s helmet tilted slightly, as if he were studying you, and your heart raced under his scrutiny.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice quiet but certain.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Before you could say anything, Din rose to his feet, his movements fluid and deliberate. He reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder—a brief, almost hesitant gesture, but one that sent warmth spreading through you.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ll take first watch.”

“Din—”

“Please,” he added, cutting you off.

The word caught you off guard. You nodded slowly, leaning back against the cot as Grogu snuggled closer to your side. Din lingered for a moment longer before turning and walking back toward the cockpit, his steps heavy but purposeful.

As the door hissed shut behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Grogu made a soft, contented sound, and you stroked his head absently, your thoughts spinning.

Din’s words echoed in your mind, mingling with the unspoken emotions you’d seen in his actions. There was something there—something deeper than duty, something neither of you were ready to name.

For now, you let it be.

Feel free to request <3

[emilys-bangs]

Awww congrats on 200 followers lovely!!! You deserve it, I always find myself rereading your works! So I went to the first section Andromeda, saw prompt #1 “Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.” and thought YES that’s an Emily prompt right there 🤣 I feel like Emily being able to immediately sense reader’s feelings would be super sweet. Like maybe it was rough case/day for reader, Emily steps up, and then starts rambling trying to distract reader so they’re both just laughing and even more in love by the end? Will also read whatever you want to write 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Tysm lovely!!! It amazes me that you reread my fics, I'm so happy you like them🥹!! I changed a tiny bit of this at the end, hope you don't mind <3

Word count: 0.9k

Join my celebration here <3

You’re upset. It’s not hard to see—shoulders rising to your ears, your jaw set, the skin pulled tight over your knuckles as you grip the steering wheel. Add that to the lack of your usual easy chatter and Emily’s worried, absently picking at the loose skin around her nail as she tries not to make it too obvious she’s staring.

The case was hard on you. The two of you shared a room this time, so she was more in tune with you than she normally is. She heard the sounds of distress you let out in your sleep almost every night, the way you’d toss and turn on the bed for hours after. Emily didn’t say anything, held back her urge to talk to you about it, but she noticed the restless frustration building in you, the way you poured yourself into the case. 

It ended badly, and you’ve been quiet ever since.

She hadn’t argued when you grabbed the car keys, figuring you’d appreciate the small modicum of control, but it’s been almost half an hour and she’s grown uneasy from your still-tight grip on the wheel. Her eyes flick to your face just in time to see the tick in your clenched jaw.

Before Emily can think about it, the words are out of her mouth. “Pull over,” she says softly, breaking the stillness. “Let me drive for a while.”

You give no indication that you heard her; silence makes her words hang in the air, unanswered. Her worry increases when you don’t protest, simply pulling over and unbuckling your seatbelt. 

Emily gets out of the car and makes her way to the driver’s seat just as you’re getting out. She knows her gaze must be hot on your cheeks, but you don’t look at her. Instead, your gaze tips up, and she follows it.

The one road leading out of town is dark. Apart from the headlights of the car and a few spare street lamps, it’s swathed almost entirely in darkness, and the sky above you is lit up with stars.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Emily murmurs, desperately trying to draw an answer from your lips.

You hum noncommittally and move past her to get back in the car.

Helplessness crawls up Emily’s throat and settles there like a hard lump. She swallows tightly and gets into the car, briefly unmoored at her reaction to your reaction, unsure why it is that she so desperately wants you to be okay.

The silence is back as she drives off. From the corner of her eye, she sees you rest your head on the window and cross your arms, turning away.

Emily is an expert on body language—she has to be—but this time, she can’t sit and watch you drift away from her, further into your mind.

“Did you recognize any constellations out there?” She blurts out, then winces at the stupid question. 

You’re slow to respond. 

“Think I saw…what was that famous one called? The hunter?”

Relief floods Emily’s veins. “Yeah, Orion.” She nods, turning to get a glimpse of you. Your head is still on the window, but your body is tilted toward hers. Her next breath comes a little easier. “It’s arguably the most recognizable constellation in the Milky Way. It lies on the celestial equator, so it’s visible from both the Northern and Southern Hemispheres.”

“Okay, Reid,” you retort, but the gentleness to your voice tells her you don’t mean any malice. Emily turns and finds a small quirk to your lips; she bites back a smile of her own.

“Yeah, I was a big geek about the stars,” she whispers. Still am. Emily clears her throat. “When I was younger, I used to spend summers in a cabin up in the Alps with my grandfather. He had these huge books about stars and constellations.” You’re quiet next to her, but she sees the way you perk up and shift closer. She never shares her past—or any aspect of her life, really—with anyone, but it’s you, and if it makes you feel even a little bit better, she’ll spell out her whole life’s story for you to hear. 

“The sky was so clear there, it’s insane. I used to draw constellations on the back of my hand and try to search for them in the sky; I spent hours looking up until Grandad called me back. And for each one I’d found, he’d tell me a story.” A wistful smile pulls at her lips. When Emily turns and finds you staring with your head cushioned on your arm, her smile widens.

“Do you want to hear the story of Orion?” She asks softly.

She hears the low whoosh of air as you breathe in, then nod once. “Yeah,” you give her a small smile and warmth spreads all over her body, “I do.”

You’re asleep by the end of it, exhaustion claiming your body, but somehow, at some point, your pinky linked with hers. Both your hands rest on the console now, and Emily looks away from the empty road ahead of her. Your lashes rest on your cheeks, the tense lines of your face relaxing in sleep, and she squeezes your pinky before turning back to the road, her heart somewhat lighter.

taglist: @suckerforcate

[th3cadav3r]

Hello! I think a nice sfw fluff scenario for the Tulpar crew would be headcanons of how each character would react when the reader hesitantly tells them they don’t like sex or are asexual. Reader can be gn. Thank you, I really like your headcanon writings!

SFW Mouthwashing Headcanons—Asexual Reader

content: fluff, kissing, cuddling, mentions of sex, very very very slight acephobia from Jimmy(but with a happy ending)

author’s note: Keep in mind that I am not asexual therefore I cannot understand or fully grasp the asexual experience. I just tried my best based on what I’ve seen and heard online. Hope you enjoy!

Daisuke

You and him had been dating for about three weeks

You always held hands and made out a lot, but nothing more than that

His libido is pretty high because of his age, so naturally he wanted more

You were making out on the couch when suddenly you felt his hands start to wander

It was fine at first until his hand started reaching a little too low for comfort

“Wait—”you blurt out

He stops immediately, retracting his hand

“Sorry, did I do something wrong?” His voice is full of genuine concern

“No, it’s not your fault. I just uh…don’t want that”

He was a little confused. “We can move to my bed if you want” He suggests, thinking that you just wanted more privacy than the living room provided

“No, I…I mean I don’t want to have sex. It’s not you, it’s me. I just don’t like it”

He didn’t expect that but he understood. He smiled reassuringly

“That’s alright. I get it”

You breathed a sigh of relief and your body relaxed. You felt like you truly didn’t deserve such a sweet boyfriend

“Here—we can just cuddle instead” He offers with his arms open. You gladly accept

You spent the rest of the afternoon napping together and playing video games when you woke up

This was definitely different for him compared to his previous relationships, but he didn’t care. He loves you for you

Anya

You started dating towards the end of the trip

She’s more of a words of affection girl than a physical touch girl, which is perfect for you

At one point when things started to get a bit steamy, you finally told her

“Before this gets too far…you should know something about me”

You tell her how you feel no desire for sex but that you still love her the same. Of course she’s understanding once you explain it to her

“I appreciate that you told me”

You both have a long discussion about what is and isn’t okay in regards to your and her comfort. And you both come out of the conversation with a much better and deeper understanding of each other

Now whenever you and her get touchy, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel good without crossing the line

Curly

There was no doubt about it: You were the captain’s favourite

You spent a lot of time alone with him in the cockpit just chatting about the most random things

He definitely grew a liking to you and you to him. One day he asked you what exactly he was to you

You confessed your feelings to him and he does the same. While the moment feels amazing, you can’t help but feel worried about his reaction to your sexuality

“Hey, I should let you know–” You decide to just tell him now. “–I don’t really want this to be a sexual thing, okay?”

He’s a bit taken aback, you can clearly see that in his face. But he is by no means offended or upset

“No worries, then,” he reassures. “Thanks for telling me”

For the next few days, he was very overly cautious. He asked if you were comfortable before he gave you any kind of physical affection. It was a bit exhausting at first, but you appreciated that he cared so much

Swansea

Let’s be real: This man is old

His sex drive is almost all long gone

And he let you know this when you told him about your lack of sexual desire

“Yeah, so what?” he says gruffly and bluntly. “I’m fifty-fuckin’-six years old, sweetheart. Just thinking about sex makes my back hurt”

You were totally expecting that response. It still made you smile from ear to ear though

He wasn’t really a lovey-dovey type of guy when the others were around, but when you two were alone in his bedroom he was a lot more affectionate. Cuddles, kisses, caresses…everything he did was so gentle and comfortable

Jimmy

You’re definitely a lot closer to him than anyone else on board, even Curly

Neither of you really knew where you stood in terms of a relationship, but your “hangouts” included a lot of making out and touching

This was fine initially, but at a certain point it became too much for you

“Hold on—”You grab his wandering hand and move it off of your body

“What?” He was genuinely surprised that you stopped him

“This is going a bit too far for me”Your body tenses up, anticipating a very awkward and uncomfortable conversation

“What do you mean?” He sounded a little hurt and a bit annoyed

“I don’t…have a drive like that. I don’t want to do sexual stuff”You laid it all out for him

He was quiet for a bit. You couldn’t exactly read his face so you were starting to get a little nervous

“It’s not because of me, right?”

“No, of course not,” you reassure. “That’s just how I am”

He sighs. Whether it was out of relief or frustration you couldn’t tell

“Alright”

The atmosphere between you and him was a little awkward for the next few days. You couldn’t help but worry

“Sorry if I was being distant,” he finally told you one afternoon. “Just thinking things through”

“That’s alright” You were lying; you were a little upset that he basically ghosted you after you were so vulnerable with him, but you were willing to just let it go, at least for now

“I know you have your…thing. But I still like you”

Well that was a surprise. But a good one. Definitely a good one. You told him that you liked him back

He was a bit disappointed that he couldn’t do everything he hoped to do with you, but he still liked you a lot. Besides, he could always just “take care” of himself in private

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hello I'm sorry if I'm bothering you but I had an idea about a hazbin hotel request, so what if everyone at the hotel (except Alastor) consider the reader a big sister who takes shit from no one, like will slap someone without hesitation if they talk bad about any of their friends, especially when Valentino tries something will literally beat him up until he's half dead. (If you're not comfortable with writing this that's completely alright and I wish you a good morning/afternoon or goodnight)

Oh, nonnie, you are never a bother! I love getting new requests, feeds my soul tbh. I love this idea too! As much as I love romantic x readers and NS/FW x readers, I also love me some platonic Hazbin 🤍 good morning/afternoon/evening to you and ENJOY!

Notes: fem!reader, this is kinda short sorry, added Alastor at the end but just a snippet :)

TW: aggression, fighting, swearing

Rough and Tough- Hazbin x platonic!reader

Charlie ❤️‍🔥

Adores your passion and bravery but is often the one to hold you back or stand between you and your foe.

She loves keeping you close tho bc she has a hard time asserting dominance and speaking up for herself and you’re always willing to speak your mind on her behalf. You always help uplift and empower her, she greatly appreciates that.

Charlie also really does see you as a sister. As an only child, she grew up pretty sheltered and lonely, but being with you now is really healing her inner child.

When Charlie is having any kind of issue, she always goes to Vaggie, her darling girlfriend. But, when Charlie feels the need to vent about and get advice on her relationship with Vaggie, she turns to you. When Vaggie is busy and away, Charlie goes to you.

Pretty much every weekend, Charlie invites you and the other girls in the hotel to her room for a sleep over and some fun girly time

You def tagged along with her to the meeting with heaven along with Vaggie and while Vaggie is like “keep a cool head, babe.” You’re literally trying to climb up to where Adam is seated so you can rip that smug smile off his stupid, ignorant, narcissistic face and slap Lute with it.

Vaggie’s just panicking as she tries to keep you and Charlie calm lmao

Vaggie ⚔️

TWO PEAS IN A POD TBH

Vaggie adores you and you are often each other’s impulse control and each others biggest instigators

Vaggie getting pissed that someone is trying to sabotage the hotel and storming up to the traitor with her angelic spear cocked back and ready to kill

Enter big sis pulling her back and trying to talk some sense into her

Also you getting livid when someone talks negatively about Vaggie being a fallen angel, or worse being a former exorcist and being untrustworthy

Bad words and ugly names are pouring from your angry mouth, fists balled up and ready to go, muscles tense in anticipation

Cue Vags hugging you as she pulls you away, whispering that it doesn’t bother her so don’t let it bother you

But it bothers you bc you know it bothers her…she doesn’t deserve that.

As Rosie said, maybe she’s trying to be redeemed too…? Being shit talked is only going to put bad thoughts in her head and you can’t stand to see your family belittled like that

Sometimes, if the situation is just bad enough, you and Vaggie lose it together and no one can stop yall now. It’s honestly just as frightening as when Alastor shows his full demon form, you and Vaggie violently teamed up together like this.

Angry Vaggie + Angry big sis reader = a terrible ending for whoever is at the sharp end of her spear and at the mercy of your fists

Angel Dust 🕸️

Is very intimidated by you at first but grows so fond of you as he gets to know you. He admires your courage so much, he wishes he could be more like you.

He never feels safer than when he’s at the hotel with you near by. He knows that whatever he lacks when up against an opponent, you’ll be there to pick up the slack and watch his back.

Angel doesn’t have many true friends or familial figures in hell, and he misses his own sister so terribly. You fill that empty spot in his heart so perfectly, he wishes you had been around when he was still alive.

You two hang out a lot- his flirty, bubbly, goofy demeanor and your kind, accepting but stubborn attitude makes for some fun late night talks and some exciting outings together

Some dude tries to touch Angel out on the street without his consent? Oh fuck no. Before he knows it, the loser demon is groaning from the hard concrete floor as you grab Angel by the wrist, both of you stepping over the banged up body of the handsy asshole.

“It’s called consent! Look it up, ya fuckin prick.” Angel gets such a confidence boost being with you, you are the physical threat and he is the voice that tears them apart even further. You bruise their skin, he bruises their ego

Angel can’t help but laugh everytime you lose it for him. He just enjoys your company and support so much. He says he can handle himself and while he totally can, it’s just nice to have someone back him up, someone who truly cares for him.

Husk 🃏

BRO IS SUCH AN INSTIGATOR!!!

While Vaggie and Charlie often try to hold you back and calm you down, Husk cheers you on in any and every tense situation you find yourself in

“Oooooh you’re in for it now, bone head.” He’ll smirk and watch with a pleased smirk on his face as you pummel some sinner who dared to threaten the hotel and its residents

Husk’s fav pastime is sitting back with a bottle of booze as he watches you just go ham on some stupid, loud mouth loser who tried to pick a fight with the former overlord

Husk isn’t afraid of a fight, he’s not afraid to get up close and personal with the action but he must admit it’s nice to feel cared for enough to have someone sacrifice their own safety just to protect him.

The only time Husk has intervened during one of your episodes of frustration and rage is when Alastor said something to Husk that rubbed you the wrong way. Seeing Husk’s terrified and helpless expression in response to Alastor’s threats lights a fire in your chest.

“How dare you talk to him like that! I don’t give a shit if you own him, he’s not your fucking pet, you piece of-“

Husk practically, no literally begged Alastor to let it go and leave you be which he did but only bc he sort of admired your lack of fear and your loving but fierce protective attitude.

Husk also greatly admires your lack of fear and strong will. He wishes you were his family for real, maybe he wouldn’t be so depressed and fucked up.

Sir Pentious 🐍

Admires tf out of you, babies tf out of you.

He sees you as more of a little sis, wanting to coddle and defend you always.

Sees you coming back to the hotel one day with some bruises and bloody hands and hes immediately comforting you, trying to clean you up even tho you’re clearly fine.

But, he must confess he loves teaming up with you bc together you’re the perfect pair- Pentious with his tools and inventions and intricate weapons and you with your amazing strength and hot headed, witty comebacks and your courage and your quick thinking.

When he feels that he needs to step in and keep you from doing something stupid, he does so with all his might. Pentious would rather face your wrath himself than let you go and get yourself hurt or killed.

Go ahead, take your anger out on him but don’t risk yourself just for him.

You two totally bond over wanting to be seen as evil, devious and powerful but you’re both actually soft little sweet hearts deep down.

You two cry together a lot lmao. It’s always him crying first and then his crying triggers you.

He would frequently talk to you about how you are always so brave, fearless, strong, never faltering, never second guessing yourself. He’d ask where you learned to be so sure of yourself, he wants to learn to be more like that.

Alastor 🩸

SEES YOU AS HIS EQUAL BUT WILL NEVER ADMIT IT. CANT UNDERSTAND HOW YOU STAND YOUR GROUND AGAINST EVERY ENEMY YOU’VE EVER TAKEN ON, EVEN HIMSELF. YOU HAVE NO POWERS, YOU OWN NO SOULS, YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS PARTNERS OR BLOOD RELATIVES DOWN HERE SO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU’RE SO SPECIAL??? YOU’RE NOT SCARED OF HIM? OH, VERY INTERESTING. HE WANTS TO CUT YOUR LITTLE BRAIN OPEN AND EXAMINE IT, YOU’RE JUST AN ENIGMA TO HIM, HE ADORES YOU. WISHES YOU REALLY WERE THE DAUGHTER HE SPAWNED FOR REAL FOR REAL HE’D BE SO PROUD

[tokoyamisstuff]

A/N: guys pls tell me the exact names if you request sth, there's so many of those men and I don't wanna accidentally leave out those you want🙈

gn! Reader I no warnings

Anderson - Words of Affirmation

Being the well read man that he is - plus the fact that too much physical intimacy makes him uncomfortable - he prefers showing his love through words, both written or voiced.

Since he's away on missions more often than not, he'll remind you of his undying love in other ways. You'd spend hours on the phone talking about everything from trivialities to deep conversations.

He's pretty repressed and secretive about his inner world, but always has a quote from the bible or any other literature ready to put his feelings into words.

Letters are his favourite way of showing how he feels about you. It just comes easier to him than in person. They're very poetic, and even when he's not abroad he tends to leave some for you to find.

Alucard - Quality Time

Compared to his own, your life is just so painfully short that he wants to savor every single second of it. Mostly it's not even about doing something special, just simply being together.

The relationship will progress very fast due to the same reason. For him there's no way you shouldn't be living with him as soon as things get serious. Will accomodate to your mortal needs as good as he can, of course.

He's the kind of man that would always be present, even if away on missions he'd still have a familiar nearby for your protection (and simply to feel close to you).

Your humanity is way too precious for him to take away for his selfish desire of having you forever, but he'll eternally be grateful for the brief time with you and the impact it made on his life.

The Captain - Physical Touch

What this man can't tell you through words he'll express in other ways - and damn he's addicted.

Always has a need to be close to you, and as soon as you're in range he needs to feel you somehow: A hand on the small of your back, his chin atop of your head, his fingers intertwined with yours. No matter what you're doing or who might see, he doesn't really care. Most of the time it's subconscious either way.

He's surprisingly innocent and careful with his touch, as if you're a porcellain doll that might break under his strenght. Adores things like brushing your hair or simply tracing the lines of your face when you sleep.

On the other hand your touch is so balmy to him that this man will practically melt under your fingertips. Every second he cannot feel it is sweet torture.

Walter - Acts of Service

Do I even have to explain? It's literally what he was made to do. Hard to outgrow things you're used to ever since childhood.

There's nothing he cannot do - and if there is, he's willing to learn. Over time he'll know all of your likes/dislikes, habits, etc. by heart and through sheer observation alone. He is also very eager to help you achieve your goals through any means necessary.

He's a man with love for detail, putting in effort even in the smallest daily gestures. With him even the most trivial day will make you feel like royalty, and he is very mindful to support you in any way he can.

Sadly he tends to overextend himself in an anxious endeavour, so you really need to remind this man that he is loved and appreciated even without being 'useful'.

Maxwell - Receiving Gifts

The whole 'affection' thing is new territory for this sociopath, and he has absolutely no idea how to approach it. So he goes about it the way he always does to cover up for what he lacks - overcompensating!

Deep down he's a very insecure man that feels he needs to prove being worthy of your affection, but he also simply thinks you deserve nothing less.

His gifts will always be very personal and thoughtful, trying to show you just how much he cares without actually having to say it. He also loves planning special dates for the two of you to make the most out of the little free time he can spend with you.

Ironically he is very humble when it comes to receiving any kind of affection from your side. He's not used to anything but crumbs, and needs a while until he learns allowing someone to love him properly.

[heartfullofleeches]

I want to teach Carnis that normal foods can be sweet too like they likes. I bet they ate a lot of oatmeal back in the facility but those monsters probably gave it to him plain and boring and bland.

I make a MEAN bowl of oatmeal. I would add cinnamon and nutmeg, liberally sprinkle brown sugar, and add some honey drizzle on top. Maybe I should cut some apples up in there too, they like fruit.

I just imagine it being the early days and he gets nervous when I serve him the bowl because he's used to being treated badly but I gently encourage him to try it and he eats like 3 bowls.

Yan Lab Experiment Drabble

The last thing Carnis wanted was to come off as ungrateful.

The debts they owed you could never be paid in full. Their freedom was one thing, but finding a purpose for themselves is what gave their sheltered life new meaning. You gave them that purpose. Carnis longs for the day he'll understand the outside world the same way you do. Until then, the experiences you hand pick for him are more than they could ask for or repay from anyone.

Carnis would follow you through every bump and hurdle. Regardless of their blind faith in you, they didn't know if you could guide them through this.

"I r...remember...this stuff."

They always hated it. On top of tests and questions, Carnis dreaded mornings for the very meal placed in front of them. It was like stuffed wet paper into their mouth- Near tasteless, plain, some days they weren't even given the luxury of having it warm.

Yours, on the other hand- Could the two be placed in the same category?

For starters, yours was thicker than they recalled. If their memory served them correctly, the right word to use for the texture of your oatmeal was creamy. The smell was.. undefinable. The warm scent of cinnamon spliced with the soft, sweet aroma of honey. Carnis was lucky to receive a sugar packet or two from the kind doctor who took pity on them. Coupled with the fresh chunks of fruit you topped with oatmeal off with it was like breakfast and a snack in one.

Carnis stirs awkwardly in his chair; hunger digging at the walls of their stomach yet their hands lay in their lap - fingers picking at the skin of their palm. The oatmeal looked good. Smelt good too. They wanted to appreciate all your hard work, but after so many years of eating the same slop - their eyes lacked the appetite their stomach was cursed with.

"Ah!"

Their spine shoots straight as an arrow as hands rest gently between their shoulder blades. Sensing their distress, you massage at the center point of the tension in their back, mindful of their sensitivity to touch.

"I know what you're probably thinking. I didn't think it looked the most appetiting when I first tried it, but one bite and I was in love. It's one of my favorites to eat now-"

"Favorite?... Favorite..." If someone as kind as you likes it as much as you claim, surely it can't be that bad...

Carnis tentatively wields their spoon, brushing the chunks of apple off to the side as they dig in. If they really weren't a fan, surely eating some part of it would still make you happy, right? They bring the spoon closer to their mouth, tensing as the metal clinks against their teeth. The hybrid steels their nerves and the tremors of their hand - shutting their eyes tightly as they take a bite.

...

"You did really well today... Carnis... I brought you something new to try. Keep it a secret between me and you, alright? I'll tell you what it is when you're older."

Sweetness. Their first taste of it can after one of the worst experiences they had in the lab. He couldn't feel his legs for days- Had they not been able to see them, Carnis would've believed they had been cut off for good. A sugar cube was granted to them for all their suffering- And it was worth it.

Carnis didn't know what they did to deserve this.

The spoon is swiftly discarded. Carnis picks up the bowl with both hands, switching to one as the oatmeal pours into their mouth too slowly for their liking. Using their fingers, Carnis inhales every oat - Their feast cut short by a small chunk of apple catching in their throat.

"Carnis!" As the cow coughs, you quickly lift the untouched glass of milk on the table to their lips for them to drink. "Slow down- It's not gonna run away from you."

Carnis barely seems fazed by nearly choking themselves on a slice of fruit.

"M...more? Please? I'd like more. I-if it's not too much trouble."

Desperate hands cling onto the hem of your shirt. You wipe stray tears from his eye as he begs. "There's a whole pot on the stove- You can have as much as you want."

"Y..you... Can.. can you teach me? How to.. make it? Oatmeal...and other goods food- I wanna make things for you.. too... I want you to be.. be happy too...."

[alotofpockets]

We've got you | Arsenal WFC

Pairing: Arsenal x Teen!Reader

Request: Arsenal teen reader fic where they have an eating disorder and the team helps them through it.

Warnings: Eating disorders, passing out, talk of negative body image.

A/n: Thank you @catasha for proof-reading and your feedback & thank you @lessi-lover and @greynatomy as well for your help 💗

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2k

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As the youngest player on the team a lot of your teammates kept a close eye on you. They made sure you did your homework, helped you pack your bag, and in general were there for you for whatever you needed. There was one thing they hadn’t noticed though, and it was that you had started eating less and less. You were actively trying to hide it from them, so you didn't blame them for not noticing.

You had been diagnosed with an eating disorder when you were fourteen years old, and though you had been doing better the past year, your old habits started to reappear. Of course, something like that doesn’t really go away, but the voices in your head telling you that you shouldn’t eat have been quiet.

None of your teammates knew about your diagnosis, as you hadn;t struggled with it during your time with Arsenal. Well, not until now. In your plan to hide it from your teammates, you hadn’t counted on someone knowing the symptoms of an eating disorder, but one of them did. Alessia Russo, one of the more recent signings was keeping an eye on your food intake, unbeknownst to you. She had noticed you barely touching your breakfast. At first she didn’t think anything of it, but when she saw you only eating a few bites of your lunch, until you excused yourself, her mind started to wonder. She recognized patterns she had been stuck on in her highschool years, and hoped that she was wrong, but she couldn’t just let the thoughts go.

After training that afternoon, Alessia walked with you back to your bags, having placed hers conveniently next to yours at the start. The two of you are talking, when she grabs a protein bar from her bag. “Man, I’m full. Can I interest you in the other half? I would hate for it to go to waste.” You hesitated, but took the bar from her, not fully confident in denying food one on one. Alessia continued talking, but you didn’t hear a word she was saying as you were trying to convince the voices in your head you should eat the bar she offered. You don’t deserve to eat. You’ve gained weight, eating the bar will make it go up more. You tried to fight it. I already took the bar, I have to at least take a bite to show my appreciation. After fighting with the voices in your head for what felt like half an hour, you managed to move the bar up to your mouth with a shaky hand. Luckily Alessia was busy untying her boots, and didn’t see your hands shaking. One small bite is all you were able to eat before the voices in your head started to get loud again. You smiled to Alessia, “Thank you for this.” and head back to the locker rooms. Once you were out of sight from the rest of the team, you threw the bar in a nearby trash can. 

You were currently training in Portugal, so you didn’t have much time where you weren’t surrounded by your teammates. Each meal time was taken together, so you diverted to making it seem like you were eating by tactically moving around the food on your plate, putting a bite on your fork and moving it around while you were conversing with the people surrounding you. Trying to keep their focus on your words, rather than the lack of food actually entering your mouth.

Alessia stuck around until most of the room had cleared out, leaving just the two of you in the room. She moved over to your table, “Hey y/n, how are you doing?” You look up from your plate, “Oh hi Lessi, I’m doing alright. How are you?” She smiled at you softly, “I’m doing alright as well. I wanted to check in with you, to see if everything was okay, since I noticed you hadn’t really touched your food.” Your cheeks turned red, had she noticed? You quickly shake off the thought and shrug your shoulders, “Oh, yes, I’m okay. Just not very hungry, that’s all.” Alessia didn’t want to push you, knowing that that could make it worse, so she settled on talking about football instead, to bond with you, and not let you be on your own. 

The next day you were running around during practice, you loved drills where you got to show your speed. The team was split into two lines, as you would be competing against each other. One person from each team would go at the same time, sprinting to the finish line, the one that reached it first would earn the cone for their team. The team that got to ten cones first would win the exercise. 

Your team was currently at nine cones, while the other team was at eight. It was you running against Lotte, and if you were the fastest, you would get the victory for your team. “You’re going down, grandma.” The team knew you as a joker, so Lotte was used to your antics. “Yeah yeah, you just focus on not tripping over your own feet, kiddo.” You roll your eyes at her, “That was one time!”  

The two of you get ready on the line and wait for the countdown and the whistle to blow. You were running neck and neck, until about three quarters of the way, it was then that you got a step ahead of Lotte, but your lead didn’t last long, as suddenly you found yourself getting weak and dizzy. You divert from the straight line that you were running, and slow down your run. Lotte immediately noticed that something was wrong, and stopped her run to help you. “Hey kid, what’s wrong?’ She grabs your shoulders to keep you in place. “Dizzy.” Is all you get out before you collapse in her arms. 

You passed out for a moment, but luckily the medics were quick by your side. “What happened?” You ask when you see all your teammates standing around you with worried looks on their faces. “You passed out, kid. Do you know what happened?” Leah had your head laying in her lap. “Don’t know.” You say groggily, still not feeling well. “Let’s get you to one of the physio rooms to get you checked out.” One of the medics reached down their hands to help you up. 

Everyone was in the hallway, waiting to hear what was going on, a few of them pacing the hallway, and others sitting along the wall. “She was joking around just moments before, how could this happen out of nowhere?” Leah voiced the thought that most of the girls shared. “I might have an idea.” Alessia said softly. 

The medics walk out of the physio room once they are done examining you, “She seems alright now. We don’t know what happened yet, so we will have to keep a close eye on her. We advised her to stay in the room for at least another hour, just until she feels a bit stronger again. You can see her though.” 

After what Alessia had just shared with the group, just Alessia, Leah, and Kim go into the room first. “Hey kiddo, how are you doing?” Leah sits down on the bed with you, and wraps her arm around you. “I still feel a bit weak, but otherwise okay. You all look very serious though, what’s going on?” Leah looks up to Kim with tears welling in her eyes, not being able to do the talking without breaking. You were like a little sister to her, and it hurt seeing you like this. “It came under our attention that you haven’t really been eating, and we wanted to check in with you. You really scared us out there kid, you need to take care of your body. Can you please tell us how long this has been going on?” They knew now, so hiding was no longer an option. “I was diagnosed with an eating disorder when I was fourteen.” You could feel Leah tense beside you, as she came to the realisation just how serious this was. “I never mentioned it because it’s not been a problem since I’ve joined the team. It started playing up again a few weeks ago, I can handle it.” You were downplaying your wording, trying not to scare your teammates. Leah shook her head, “You’re not handling it though, you literally passed out!” You were shocked with the emotion behind her voice. “Leah, I’m fine.” Leah felt herself getting angry, “No, y/n, you’re not.” She said before she left the room, not wanting to get angry with you while she knew you were struggling.

It stays quiet for a moment, before Alessia speaks up. “I struggled with my weight and my body a lot growing up. I wanted to be skinny, but it ended up making me too weak to play. I learned that for football being strong was more important than my body fitting this image in my mind that society had created.” Kim continued where Alessia left off, “It’s important to give your body the right nutritions, it is for all of us, but especially for a growing body like yours. Skipping meals can harm your body, more than it will do good. We understand that this is a lot, but we really do not want anything like today to happen to you again.” Tears started to form in your eyes. Kim stands up and goes in to hug you, “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ve got you.” 

Once you calmed down a bit, Kim continued the conversation. They wanted to do everything in their power to help you, because they understood how mentally challenging an eating disorder could be. “We’re going to set up a meeting with the dietitian and nutrition team tomorrow, and get you on a plan that will help you eat in a healthy way, that is based on your body specifically. Alessia is going with you, because her experience will help make sure your best interest is at heart. We are going to be there with you every step of the way. You’re a part of a team, and that means we don’t let anyone go through something alone, okay?” You nodded, “Okay.”

In the hallway Leah is crying into Lia’s arms, after she asked the rest of the team to give you some space today. “She’s acting like nothing is wrong, Wally.” The older girl rubs her hands over her best friend’s back in soothing motions. “I understand, but she needs you Lee. I know you’re angry with her for not telling anyone she’s been struggling, and with yourself for not noticing she was, but let’s focus on the fact that it’s out in the open now, and you can help her.” 

Lia’s words were convincing, so much so that Leah headed back into the room, and asked for a moment alone with you. “Hey kiddo, I’m sorry I ran out. I couldn’t handle my emotions in a way that would be fair to you, so I needed a moment.” You smile at her softly, “It’s fine Lee. I understand, it was big news, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.” Leah steps forward and hugs you to her chest. “Let’s get you home, okay?” You had been living with Leah since you moved to London, probably the reason that you were closest with her. “Okay.”

The next morning Leah drove you to London Colney for your appointment with the dietitian and nutrition team. Alessia was already waiting when you arrived, she greeted you with a hug. “It’s good to see you, kiddo. Are you ready?” You returned the hug. “As I’ll ever be.” 

It was very helpful having the both of them there. Leah for reassuring you, and Alessia to make sure you answered all their questions properly. After an hour of talking with the team, they had set up the basics of the plan for you. In the next couple of days they would get back to you with a more elaborate plan, including meal options and recipes. 

You know that your journey with food and your body weren’t going to be easy, but you knew that you weren’t going to be alone. The team had always been like family to you, and yesterday showed you again that they would love you unconditionally, and that they would be there for you, no matter what. 

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