#so I will let some days to the confessions box to grow again

[vanitasnocarteconfessions]

"I really want to get more into Vanijeanne, but it's kind of difficult to do when the main fanon ship feels like it has more development than the main canon ship... I love both of the characters and could definitely envision them together with a cute dynamic, but there's just not enough development for me to get into it."

Admin note to the blog:

Since these last weeks there has been very few confessions I decided that from this confession, I will be some time w/o making new posts (until the queue grow up at least to 10).

[vrystalius]

Hello! I have another request🥺👉🏻👈🏻! How about one of the hashiras (or all of them saperated) + kagaya (platonic) x ubuyashiki daughter reader? In which reader is kagaya daughter and they are in love with her but haven't told her yet because her health is getting worse from the curse how would they react to finding her passed out on the floor with blood coming out of her mouth?

Wilting Wisteria

Ubyashiki’s daughter dies before the hashira who fell for her could confess. How will they react?

(So, Kagaya is around 40ish in this AU and the daughter is around 20. His sickness progresses extremely slowly, meaning he’s sick but alive. The daughter’s sickness progressed faster for some unknown reason, leading her to an early death. Also, the hashira’s crushes are seperate <3)

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Giyu, Kagaya (familial) x fem!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He can’t get the image out of his head. You, just laying in your futon, looking peacefully asleep. It looked like you’re going to wake up just in time to have your daily hang-out with the wind hashira. The day before, Sanemi promised you to make some ohagi, his favourite dish. He worked on that dessert all evening before heading out for his patrolling, making sure that every single ohagi ball looks perfect. Sanemi has been noticing that your condition has been worsening, and he was extremely worried. Much to his own dismay, he has been starting to grow attached to you and your enchanting aura.

You’re calming him with your mere presence, similar to his master, but… he can’t put in words what exactly he’s feeling, Sanemi just feels so safe and secure around you. Sometimes you encourage him to speak up about the things he experiences while out on missions and how he feels about them. Sanemi would lay down on the tatami beside you, and just talk. You make him open up, confront the things he’s seen. Sometimes he fantasises about him resting his head on your chest with your sickly coloured hand running through his hair. He would hold you close by your waist, gripping onto your robes as strong as he can, never wanting to let go. Sanemi should probably open up about these feelings to you… That what he planned on doing after eating the ohagi.

But now, it’s all gone. Those feelings were just replaced with anger and grief. He should have told you sooner, Sanemi should have noticed the signs that your time was approaching.

It doesn’t matter anymore. He never should’ve let himself get attached anyway.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro tried visiting you as much he can, encouraging you to eat. You have to eat at least two meals a day, and he will make sure that you are eating those meals! Especially since you are so sick, you need those important nutrients! He always brings you either homemade food, a bento box Senjuro made for you or bring take-out from the village nearby. Kyojuro excitedly watches while you eat your meal, him sitting nearby and munching down on his own bento box. But perhaps that’s not the only reason he comes to visit.

He feels guilty when be thinks about how much he want to see you again. Is he hogging your attention for himself when he wants to see you just because? He likes being around you so much. Your smile brightens up his whole day and week, making him forget about his duties for a moment. A single genuine laugh of yours makes him feel like he archived some kind of life goal, making him beam in pride. Would it be selfish of him to want to court you?

Kyojuro still remembers the sight before him clearly. You reminded him of his mother, how she succumbed to a sickness. And now you’re gone as well, forever out of reach. The other hashira noticed how gloomy Kyojuro has gotten. Normally, no matter what, he always sees the good things in life. But perhaps not today. Or tomorrow. Or the next week and month. Kyojuro needs time and should probably stay away from Sake for now. He wouldn’t want to follow his father’s footsteps this far.

Giyu Tomioka

He had never the guts to talk to you much. His missions and his insecurities prevented him from visiting you much. Besides, why would you want to hang out with the (in his eyes) weakest hashira? So he didn’t even bother trying.

Yet, Giyu felt something for you. He gets nauseous and nervous around you, even though his face remains indifferent. He wants to reach out and touch your discoloured hand evey time your near. How will your skin feel like? Is your body warm or cold? If you’re cold, he wouldn’t mind warming you up. Giyu sometimes fantasises about what could be, what if he would get courage and confess to you. You’d probably reject him, but if you didn’t, how will your lips feel like on his? Would he be your first kiss? You’d be his first. But now it’s too late anyway.

Giyu was one of the last ones to receive the news about your death. He reacted with expressing his condolences, before quickly disappearing in his estate. Giyu stopped leaving his bed, only getting up for missions and meetings he has to attend. The thought of training was clouded by his grief for you. Why even bother getting up at all.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki (familial)

His girl, his sunshine. You’re gone now, succumbed to the same illness that has been plaguing his family for centuries. Kagaya was the first who discovered his body. Before getting Amane or any Kakushi to get help handling your body, Kagaya wanted to say his last goodbies. He pulled your head onto his lap, placing his hand on your beautiful eyes. He took the time to take in all of your features, tracing and caressing them with his slim fingers.

Kagaya had a soft smile on his face while small, salty tears slowly rolled down his face. You look so much like your mother, so beautiful despite the purple discolouration and sicker body. When you still had your eyesight, did you ever look in the mirror and saw yourself for who you truly were? An intelligent, gorgeous, ambitious young woman, or just a sick, bedridden burden to others?

Your death reminded Kagaya that his time is running out as well. If he wants Muzan to fall within his generation, he has to work harder, faster, be multiple steps ahead of that man. He promises you that the demon king will succumb to mortality soon. You will be Kagaya’s greatest motivator and reminder to continue to fight.

💠

Why would you hurt me this way? Why would you do this to me? Angst with no comfort? 😞 You are truly cruel.

Jk, I really loved writing this!! Your requests and kind words always brighten my day! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[bloodiedrogue]

FEAR OF LOSING IT (4)

SUMMARY: When it's discovered that Astarion's being hunted, you take matters into your own bloody hands.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,235

WARNINGS: Teasing, spoilers for BG3, canon typical violence, minor character death, pining if you squint a little, feelings realized!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 4 is here! Prompt is "you're not scared, are you? Of Me?" So hopefully I did it justice?

Also sidenote, to anyone wanting to be on the taglist. I had a few issues tagging some people but I still put your name. Not sure why it won't let me tag so check your settings and next fic I'll try again.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The sun beams down as you walk along the water’s edge, carefully stepping over damp rocks and foliage with narrowed eyes. As per usual, you and Astarion are trailing behind the rest of the pack —you because of the hangover you’ve been nursing all morning; him because he lives to irritate you. 

“I don’t understand how you feel so ill. You barely had more than a few drops of that ale.” 

Slightly in front of you, Astarion steps around a patch of suspicious-looking rocks, turning to grab your arm and guide you out of the way as you scrunch up your face in disgust. 

The air is way too hot to be touched. Beneath the fabric of your tunic, you can feel your skin grow increasingly sticky, prompting you to brush off Astarion's hand but reluctantly still follow with a groan. 

“I drank more at camp,” you confess, feeling a pain radiate inside your head. One that’s almost reminiscent of the tadpole, pulsing in angry motions that make you close your eyes and quietly wince. 

Picking up on your discomfort, Astarion slows his pace, opting to walk alongside you rather than ahead. “And why in gods name did you decide to do that?”

Immediately, you shrug your shoulders, offering him nothing despite knowing the reason. Last night at the party you embarrassingly drank to forget all those thoughts. The ones filled with visions of hands and mouths gliding across your wanting skin. 

Even now you hate to admit it, but after parting ways, you were still a bit riled up. A mixture of anger and annoyance coating your soul once you finally got situated inside your tent, knowing deep down there wasn’t much you could do. Gale had already returned to camp before you so you definitely couldn’t do the deed yourself without the possibility of further embarrassment, and you sure as hell weren’t going to wander back to Astarion with your hands between your thighs, begging for release.

In the end, the only other option was to get pissed drunk, so you did. And now, you were greatly suffering the consequences in the form of a whole day’s worth of walking under the beating sun alongside an overly stubborn and nosy vampire. 

“All by your lonesome?” 

Without even having to think, he looks at you with the kind of false pity that makes you want to drown him. To lace your fingers in his perfect locks so that you can better shove his face into the water, never to hear that damned voice again. 

Gods, is it ever tempting...

Rolling your eyes, you swear under your breath and shove him aside instead, feeling the edge of your elbow make contact with his chest before you attempt to step forward, feeling his hand pull you back. 

Overall, the motion is quick and painless —a twirling rush that sends you hurtling into his frame, boxing you in in the form of a hand that rests against your lower back— but regardless it still surprises you. 

“Was it because you wanted it?”

His hand lingers against your leathers as he awaits your answer. Barely putting enough weight to truly hold you back, it quickly becomes obvious that your current stance against him is of your own volition. A choice you’ve made during a moment of weak desire as you deeply inhale the dewy air. 

“Wanted what?”

“You know.” 

At this point, you’re positive he knows that you secretly like it when he touches you. When he physically guides you through difficult terrain or lets your fingers brush when trading trinkets after a day of looting. You’ve never made it known that you dislike it —never protested, even during times of tense discussion. All you’ve ever done is make faces of annoyance, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He never does. Not even now, as you press both of your palms against his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you stare him down, does he think to move. To let his hand fall to his side to let you continue your stride. Instead, all it does is remain perfectly still, resting against the small of your back, waiting. 

It makes you swallow hard as you take a step back, feeling the resistance of your hip as it brushes through his fingers.

“You’re really not going to admit it?” he asks then, watching you pause. Feeling you stop mid-step to cock your head and flash him a grin so utterly snobbish, that his facade of confidence finally slips. 

“What? That I want to fuck you?” 

Your voice is patronizing. A pointed tongue laced with poison gunning for his throat. You want him to taste his own medicine. To feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of taunting words that fluster, so you don’t say much more. All you do is stare, waiting for him to break.

“No, that you want me to fuck you,” he corrects almost immediately, his courage returning ten-fold. Doubling down on the way your mouth slightly opens in annoyance, because even in your boldest of moments he still manages to throw you off.

It makes you want to drown yourself instead, realizing just how persuasive he can be. Without trying, it’s as if he’s perfected every potential conversation before it’s happened. In his mind, he can look at a face —hear the beginnings of their voice and already have the correct response at the ready.

“Do you spend all your time thinking of ways to seduce anyone that gives you the time of day?” As you speak, you fully step away, turning on your heel to let out a shaky breath you pray he doesn’t catch. 

“Only the attractive ones, I suppose.” He laughs and follows behind, his footsteps echoing through the water as you attempt to catch up with the rest of the group. 

“Attractive ones, huh?” You peer over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Is that a genuine compliment you’re offering or another one of your usual deceptions meant to butter me up?”

He doesn’t tell you. Instead, he just offers you a shrug and purses his lips, leaving you guessing —an expression that only tightens the tension that’s seemingly begun to grow.

Well, at least for you. 

Since the night you let him feed, even you have to admit that you’ve found it increasingly hard to resist his charms, remembering how good it felt to just let go for a couple of moments. How, when it happened, there was an inkling of freedom that you felt was found. A new sense of clarity that arrived just as your lifeblood left. 

As much as you’d deny it if asked, you think about it often. At night, when you’re lying in your tent trying to sleep, you frequently attempt to replicate that feeling, calling upon your tadpole to replay the memory of the cold, numbness deep inside your throat.

As you step out of the water onto a patch of grass, you wish you could feel it now instead of the hangover. Instead of the sweltering heat and Astarion's piercing gaze penetrating the back of your head, waiting for another response he’ll just counter. 

It’d certainly make the daily trek you’re experiencing all the more bearable. Being able to forget about the aching in your skull for just a moment would solve at least half of your problems, maybe even two-thirds of them depending on how Astarion proceeds to act. On whether or not he walks in silence or—

“Do you smell that?”

You release a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling your impatience begin to build. “Smell what?”

He loudly sniffs beside you, his nose scrunching upwards dramatically before he turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t smell that?” 

“Smell w—“

  Before you even have time to react, it hits you. The foul stench of metallic burning through your mouth and nose, forcing you to cover your face with your hands.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” 

You nod, tightening the hold around your face as you continue forward, realizing you’ve somehow lost the rest of the group —something Astarion notices too, causing both of you to slightly panic.

“Oh, for fuck sakes, really? They couldn’t at least wait for us to finish our…”

As he trails off, waving his hand in the air to replace whatever words die in his throat, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar man up ahead, watching as the both of you continue.

“They’re probably over the hill,” you point out then, trying your best not to let the sudden nerves inside your chest get the better of you once you see the nameless man raise his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Who the bloody —do you know him?”

You look at Astarion as if he’s just said the stupidest thing known to man, still moving forward. “Ah yes, the mysterious man standing out in the open! Yes, I know him well, why?”

“Alright, no need to be cruel.” 

“Says you.”

Once again, his response fades to nothing. The argument slipping down his throat once the voice of the man calls out to you.

“Maybe he saw where the others went?”

Astarion scoffs. “Or maybe he’s the one who’s been setting up all those traps.”

“Traps?” 

You don’t remember seeing any traps. But then again, you’re not very perceptive when your head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting in half. 

“Yes, traps. The one’s I’ve been guiding you through like a fucking cattle dog!”

Letting your frustrations get the better of you shove him aside before you can think, turning to let both hands lay waste to his shoulder causing him to stumble sideways. As he does, he looks at you with hesitant curiosity; knitting his brows together while his mouth falls open into a half smile. 

An awkward laugh sounds through the pounding in your head as the footsteps draw near, prompting you to look ahead, noticing the man a few steps away, looking between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” 

His words sound sincere —cautious in a way that has you peeling your gaze away from Astarion's wild expression to shake your head.

“No, sorry, just a, uh—“

“A lover’s quarrel,” Astarion finishes. “You know how it is.” 

Angrily you inhale, paying his obviously entertained face no mind as you continue to survey the man now in front of you, noticing the plainness of his clothes and the unkempt hair that circles his face like a halo. 

It’s apparent then that he’s been on the road for some time now. He’s not necessarily dirty looking but quickly you realize he’s the cause of the smell, making you swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the sickness that follows. 

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.” He laughs —as does Astarion— while you just frown in between, trying not to blow another fuse. 

“I’m sorry but can we help you?” You crane your neck and smile sweetly, letting the more deceptive side of your mind take over, prompting Astarion to quickly clue in and do the same. 

“I was just speaking to your friends up there. They told me you were falling behind.” 

“And that’s your business because?” Raising your brow, you watch him falter for a moment.

“I’ve set some traps along the path. Nothing too hidden if you’ve got a keen eye like all of you, but still, I informed them of their whereabouts.”

Informed them of their whereabouts? Please. This man’s trapping skills are abysmal at best. 

You have to bite your lip once you hear Astarion's insult in the back of your mind, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing for him to notice the traps but for the rest of your party to as well? There’s no way they would’ve noticed if not for the lack of effort put into their placings.

“Well, uh, thank you. That’s decent of you.” You nod but make no effort to move. Instead, you just stand there motionless, staring him down, waiting for him to elaborate further so that you can better gauge this man’s intentions. 

You’re certain they’re anything but innocent. Given the smell wafting off his leathers and the way he keeps glancing over at Astarion with a slight twinkle in his eye makes your suspicion only grow. Your defensive walls rising to their highest point as you look at the vampire, allowing your tadpole to reach out. 

He’s up to something.

“Yes, well, I’m not hunting the likes of you so best avoid the unnecessary conflict and clean up.” The man’s gaze slowly turns to you, a hardened grin creeping through his features, causing you to twitch. 

There’s definitely something off. Something far more sinister underneath that polite expression and overly eager attempt at making small talk but you’re still not sure what it is. Or what it means when he offers you his help. 

“Fair point, but what are you hunting, may I ask?” 

“Something terrifying?” Astarion questions. “Perhaps a dragon or a kobold?”

What if it’s you?

Your partner’s eyes shoot to yours. Immediately, they fill with something you’ve never seen before. Bordering on fear, you’re quick to notice their unexpected vigilance. The building of a thought that drives his mind to something new. 

Suddenly in an instant, he’s overly alert, the movements of his shifting pupils making you wonder if maybe this is the man Astarion's been looking out for. That somewhere in his past he took advantage of the wrong person and they’ve been enacting their revenge ever since. Honestly, it’d make sense. Vampires aren’t the most well-liked of creatures, and although, aside from Astarion you’ve never experienced the company of one, it’s become increasingly obvious he’s a special case. A vampire that excels in all deceptive measures and tactics, preying heavily on whatever victims he can get his hands on. So, it wouldn’t be far off to think this man was hired to kill him. 

Making use of the tadpole again, you reach out silently, feeling no reluctance as the face of a man appears at the back of your mind, towering over you. Black as the night itself, he shrouds you in an ocean of thick shadows that conceal his face but not his presence, and because of this, there’s a panic that rises through your chest. Clutching your lungs with clawed fingertips that threaten to burst them like balloons. 

You force yourself not to look at Astarion as the memory continues —as an angry voice echoes through your ears telling you you’re his. That you belong to him and no one else and that if you so much as step a hair out of line he’ll hunt you down. 

Before you can even react the memory fades, leaving you there to piece together the man in the vision and the hunter standing before you, knowing they’re connected by a common enemy. Strung together by a tether of motivation that ties around Astarion's throat like a tightened noose. 

He’s not here to kill him but to take him away. To snatch him right under your noses by playing the unsuspecting hero. 

“As exciting as those options are, I'm actually on the lookout for a vampire spawn. His name is Astarion but I fear he’s already long gone.”

His confirmation is all you need to let your guard rise further up. Allowing your fingers to stretch against your sides, readying their need to reach for your weapon, you merely nod your head and let Astarion take the reins. 

“Oh, what a pity. It’s always like that for creatures to run away at the illest of moments, isn’t it?” He leans in with that same devilish grin, tossing aside all previous fears in favour of this newfound information. 

“Isn’t it,” the man parrots, shaking his head with a fake laugh. “Rather unfortunate considering I’m only trying to bring him home.” 

“Home?”

The word pours from your lips with such desperation that even the hunter questions your response. Raising his brow, he only slightly leans forward with interest, clicking his tongue as he glances between the two of you. “You wouldn’t happen to know this Astarion character, would you?” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him.” 

“Nope.” 

You sound like two opposing sides of a coin. Astarion, ever the charmer responds with subtly, the structure of his body remaining calm and collected while you remain a ball of nerves. A tightly wound set of muscle and bone too quick on the draw for your response to be deemed believable.

“He’s dangerous, you know. A wicked thing. Or, so I’ve heard.” He’s speaking solely to you but regardless Astarion continues to control the conversation, pulling it all back with a loud hum. 

“Wicked you say? Care to elaborate.”

There’s confusion for a moment. Then acceptance, prompting the man in front of you to explain. “While he’s nothing more than a vampiric spawn, he’s still got quite the head on his shoulders. Cunning, but nothing compared to a real vampire.” 

You know Astarion’s fuming beneath his facade then. Eagerly awaiting to rip this man apart, limb by bloody limb once the opportunity arises. You can feel his emotions through the tadpole —the way they pulse in angry waves, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice. 

Almost instantly, it forces you to push him back. Closing your eyes for a second or two, you shift thoughts of comfort to his head, letting him know that you’re there. That if the moment comes where this hunter makes his move you’ll be ready to defend him.

Thankfully, it calms him down —steadies the rousing anger that you know is still there, lingering beneath the surface. Allowing him to take a few breaths, resetting himself for the inevitable. 

“I mean, I’m no expert but considering they’re still technically vampires I feel it’s safe to assume you’re still at the risk of… oh, I don’t know, injury? A good maiming perhaps if the spawn were to be particularly famished?” 

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. Spawns are particularly powerful compared to the average but considering the sun’s high and dry I’d say we have the advantage.” 

“Do we now?”

The two of you share a glance. Astarion's tadpole squirms in time with your own and in an instant a plot is formed.

“Actually, now that you mention it I have heard tell of this Astarion fellow,” you muse, watching the man’s expression. How it changes from innocent hero to hungry hunter at the drop of a hat. 

Next to you, Astarion nods his head, echoing your words.

“You don’t say?” 

“We were actually a part of a camp not far from here last night. A big group. So, it makes sense why the name didn’t come to me sooner.” You push out a fake laugh, acting as if the whole thing’s some silly little mistake while you wave a hand through the air. “Now that you’ve reminded me though, he was definitely there, lurking about like a little leech.” 

You wiggle your fingers for dramatics, earning a scoff inside your mind that has you forcing back a genuine laugh, sensing Astarion’s annoyance. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know what way he was going?” 

This time Astarion pipes up. “I remember him saying something but, honestly, my uh, memory is a big foggy.” 

As he raises a hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose, you motion the man to move close. “Perhaps a bit of coin could remind my uh, lover here of the information you seek.” 

Lover, huh? 

Paying no mind to his internal dialogue, you rub your fingers together to signify your partner’s needs, watching intently as the man leans back and looks at you with slight annoyance before taking a moment, realizing he’s got nothing to lose. 

Considering the payout will more than likely cover such costs, he quickly turns his attention to the bag resting on his hip, opening it up with slow hands that you jump at the chance to catch off guard. 

Pulling a dagger off your hip, you make no sound as you drive the blade into the side of his throat. All you do is press a hand to his mouth, covering the groans that swiftly coat your fingers in blood, following him toward the ground. 

“I’d say be wary the next time you come snooping in other people’s business but I’m afraid it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” you tell him, feeling him struggle. Seeing him reach out to grab the knife that sits tightly in your hand, wedging itself further into the apex of his neck. Suddenly, it makes you realize what you’ve done. 

You’ve just killed a man in cold blood. And for the life of another killer, no less. Without so much as a thought, you drove this man straight to his grave, knowing that if you didn’t the probability of him gaining the upper hand would only grow. That if he survived and caught on to your ploy, he could’ve taken Astarion away. 

You realize then that you’re anything but ready for something like that to happen. Sure, he may be the cause of a lot of your frustrations throughout the day but somehow he manages to balance them out with his charm. With his innate ability to provide you with a space that’s begun to border the lines of comfort the more time you spend with him. 

It’d hurt too much to let him go. But it’d hurt even more knowing he’d be going back to his old life. To the one you still know so little about but feel its pain. The never-ending threat of a figure controlling his every movement. He may not have spared the details but you know the last thing he wants is to find his way back there, so you did what you had to do to prevent that. To keep him safe just as you so subtly promised. 

Breathing heavily, you let go of the knife and look toward him, asking him if he’s okay. 

“Okay? Darling, you can’t be serious!”

“What?” 

He’s kneeling on the ground beside you before anything else, reaching to grab your shoulders, pulling you roughly into his chest. “You just asked that man to pay us money and then jabbed a knife through his throat. If anyone should be asking who’s okay here, it’s me.”

“I’m fine. Are y—“

“Shhh.”

Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how badly you’d been shaking. Against his chest, you can feel the tremors of adrenaline take over as your head slowly lowers to his shoulder, releasing a loud and shaky breath. 

You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation. 

Almost instantly, you became nothing more than a weapon —a striking blade shoved through opposing flesh. You felt the threat of the moment and your mind flew through all the other possibilities, landing on the only ending where Astarion's safety was ensured. 

Realizing this, you slowly move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him hesitate halfway through. 

It’s obvious then you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, so you go to pull away, apologizing under your breath as you feel his grip only tighten. 

“Are you okay?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking. Or why he refuses to let you go. “Astarion, I said I’m fine.” 

“Yes but are you okay?”

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. Forcing you to see the uncharacteristic care inside his eyes as he thumbs your skin. It causes your tadpole to wriggle almost uncontrollably, discovering the connection that’s there. The unspoken bond he shares with you now that you’ve proved your loyalty. It’s enough to earn your honesty. To admit that you’re not okay while he continues to hold you. 

You’re not sure why you care so much for him. Maybe it’s the attention he offers in a world where loneliness is often rampant or the way he makes you laugh even during the most unsightly moments. Either way, all you know is that in this moment you’re afraid he’ll hate you for it. For letting the curtain of snide remarks and harsh jokes slip to reveal a body of emotions too big for you to carry by yourself. 

“I couldn’t let him take you.” 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. So inaudible against the sounds of the world around you that for a second you think you’ve spoke to his mind.

“I see that. You struck him before I could even ask him to sweeten the deal.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Astarion snorts and moves his hand, letting it glide across your cheek until it finds purchase beneath your chin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saw a dangerous man and took charge. Honestly, it was frightening.” 

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of?”

“Of me?” 

The laugh he lets go of is so full that this time you feel him shake, his frame rattling against yours as he taps your chin. “Not in the slightest, my dear. Impressed, maybe. A little bit turned on too if I’m being frank but no. Not scared.”

-

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[wonryllis]

𐙚 THE THREE STAGES OF DATING PARK SUNGHOON.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. park sunghoon with fem!reader 𖥔 ݁ strangers to fling to lovers, absolute fluff. LIB? word count `1115 a revamp

` —IN ALL REALITIES, i want to be tied to you by heart.

001. from a fling to newfound lovers.

sitting beside the window, you watch the rain pouring down hitting against the glass and slipping like drops of tear. the music in your earphones blaring into your ears like you’re in a different world, numbing like an apocalypse. the bus stops for a while and a minute later you feel the presence of one sit beside you; it’s sunghoon, he runs a hand through his slightly wet hair trying to brush off the raindrops and adjusts his blazer before he looks at you with a rather brazen look on his face. raising his brows cockily and reaching forward to pull out one of your buds, to put it in his ear.

as he takes your hand resting on your lap into his, fingers intertwining with yours in a gentle squeeze, you look at him questioningly, “i thought you were going to take your car?” he smiles faintly turning his face to return your gaze, not a viable response, just brown orbs staring at you. his other hand moves to trace his ring on your index finger, the one he gave you this weekend, “wanted to spend some more time with you.”

it was almost ten at night when you had gotten his text to come outside, that he had something to say to you. he ended up confessing and asking you out after you got into an argument about him treating you like you were a summer fling; things could have ended in so many different ways but you’re grateful that for once the sunghoon you knew, put his ego and pride behind and admitted his wrong.

and now that he has entered your life, your world, you wish nothing but for him to stay as long as he can in there. you know this might not go on for forever but however long it may be, you want to put all your heart and efforts into it. it’s just your second day, you have a long way to go, “then let’s go to school together from now on, be it the bus or your car.” and sunghoon swears his heart has never felt what it felt when he heard your voice just now..and your smile: the first love kind. perhaps his first love? only time could tell him.

002. the step to a vulnerable heart.

“your eyes are so pretty,” he blurts out, staring at you with hearts oozing out of him,“sunghoon, i’m literally crying here,” you laugh with a pout, pulling out tissues from the box to wipe your tears and the mascara rolling down the skin of your cheeks. “but you still look so pretty, like a doll.” grinning lazily he holds the side of his head, leaning against the back of the couch while admiring you like a piece of artwork.

it makes you feel even more emotional than you already do,“i look like a mess not a doll” glaring at him playfully, you softly hit his thigh,“but i love the you mess.” his smile grows wider and brighter, pupils dilated, his warm presence feeling like an invitation to neverland; like peter to your wendy.

“stop being so cringey or i’m going to start bawling my eyes out again.” and as if on que you pause for a moment before breaking down again “stop being so pretty then- i told you not to go to that reunion” sunghoon scolds you as he takes the tissue from the grasp of your fingers and holding your face, delicately wipes the falling tears, thumbs caressing the top of your eyes giving it a gentle massage. you weren’t planning to attend the said reunion but the hopes of rekindling your friendship with your ex-bff and clear out the misunderstandings from high school overcame your desire to skip it.

instead all you got were harsh words and false accusations, something sunghoon had already predicted would happen but now all that matters to him is for you to feel better. though it’s true that in his eyes even a mess you look like an angel from heaven he’d rather see you without tears of sadness. he holds onto your hands and kissing your knuckles pulls you into a hug, patting your back in a kind of comfort you know only he can provide. to him you are one displayed at the greatest of exhibitions. a private room where only he can admire the work of emotions.

003. your honeymoon ever after.

you look at sunghoon with confused eyes as he abruptly stops after closing the door to your apartment and turns to you. taking out both of your hands which were previously in his coat pockets he grabs your cheeks, squeezing your face with a lovestruck smile and heart eyes. he pecks the tip of your nose,“your face has gotten cold, i’ll have to kiss it warm,” grinning he plants another two kisses on your cheeks, then the top of your eyelids then your forehead, then three on your lips,“it’s a bonus.”

later when you’re in the kitchen making some hot chocolate and coffee for you both, he comes in, grabs your hand and starts placing kisses on your knuckles before rubbing the skin of your hands between his palms to warm them more,“sunghoon, the heater is on,” you look at him wanting to see what he has to say. he nods giving a lovely wide smile,“i know, just- your hands are precious,”

the next time he behaves this way is an hour later when you’re cuddling in the balcony, stargazing together in the pillow&blanket fort you both made there. he makes you sit between his legs with your back against his front and hugging you from behind, leaving smooches on top of your head,“your hair smells nice,” he mumbles between his kisses, it makes you laugh. just what exactly has happened to him. after he stops you put your head in the crook of his neck and ask,“are you okay, baby? why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

he locks eyes with you and in a stare of pure love and adoration,“i just realized how lucky i am to have you, you’re so precious and i love you so much. thank you for being with me,” with that he presses another kiss to your temple and hugs you tighter. soon as he’s way into dreamland, snoring softly, you look at his peaceful face and peck his lips with a smile,“i love you a lot too, thank you for coming into my life.” he definitely heard that even in his dreams.

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @nanabbg @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly

[luveline]

idk if you would write for this I checked your guidelines and wasn’t sure but I would LOVE a pregnancy scare with Aaron (May be reader is younger than him?)! And she’s just panicked bc he’s older and already has a kid and etc and the test can be pos or neg totally up to you!

thank you for requesting! 1.3k, fem (possibly) pregnant!reader

cw reader's and hotch's attitude towards pregnancy is mostly positive

Your period is twelve days late. 

That is not a small amount of time. 

You don't notice it at first, and when you do you figure it's a few extra days without an irksome pain, a balm to soothe the ache of your absent boyfriend and a hard job, but when Aaron comes home from a case and you still haven't started your period, the panic begins to set in. 

You have a hard time keeping things from him for obvious reasons. His being a human lie detector felt fascinating when you first met, but now it's making things worse. You would've liked some time to yourself for denial, only he can always tell when something is wrong, though it's clear to you he's not sure exactly what it is. He'll realise eventually, you know. 

"Let's go to the store," he suggests, his hand flirting with the back of your neck. "You always feel better after a sweet treat." 

You've been to the store today, unbeknownst to him, for some emotional support chocolates and a small box you'd rather not think about. You'd hoped that he might get called away to give you time to open it, but without him you're not sure you have the strength. 

You hadn't expected to feel this way. You want desperately to tell him, but you're just so, so scared. 

"I don't feel like going anywhere." 

He hums as his hand moves to your shoulder, squeezing a loving path down to your hand. Jack bangs a toy down in his bedroom across the way, and the washing machine spinning from the utility closet sounds louder than it ever has before, like a rocket about to erupt. You don't know what it is that gets you, but suddenly you're overwhelmed, a confession stuck in the back of your throat as Aaron meets your panicked gaze. 

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Here, honey, sit down." 

He guides you to a kitchen chair. 

"What's wrong?" he asks again, bending at the waist. 

Your head rushes with white noise for a second. You wet your chapped lips with the tip of your tongue; you've missed your period, but it isn't that alone that scares you. Perhaps in an instance of a psychosomatic symptom, you feel weird, other. Something has changed. And you're starting to feel sick. 

"Aaron, I don't know what to do," you say. 

His eyes widen with an expression you don't often see. "Has something happened?" 

It's so, so hard to say. "I think I've messed up." 

"Not in any way I can't fix." 

"Maybe I have," you say miserably, panic hot behind your eyes. 

He shakes his head. "You haven't. I swear you haven't. Please, tell me what's wrong before I have a heart attack." 

You can't say it while he's looking at you, and when you do it's hardly audible. "I think I'm pregnant," you breathe. 

Aaron pauses. You can't even raise your head, anxiety its own heartbeat and nausea rising fast. You let out a gasp you'd held in and try to calm down, even while every little part of you worries about what he's going to say. 

You don't know if you want to be pregnant, or have a baby, but you know it would probably break your heart just a touch if Aaron didn't want to have one with you. You're not sure why. And Jack is a beautiful kid but he's growing up. Aaron isn't young. 

"How sure are you?" he asks, tone completely measured. 

"I… I feel it," you say. "I know that's stupid… 'N my period is really late, nearly two weeks now." 

"You feel it?" 

"I feel sick." Your elbows on your thighs and the backs of your hands pressed to your eyes, you curl in on yourself. "I'm so scared." 

"You're scared?" Hands on your forearms. Aaron gets down on his knees in front of your chair and rubs fondness into your skin, his voice a soothing, familiar comfort as he says, "Sweetheart, you have nothing to be scared of. Don't be scared. I'm right here." 

Tears like a shock, relief and horror mixed into one. "I'm so stupid, I haven't even taken the test yet, I don't know why I'm acting this way." 

"We all react differently to foreign situations than how we might imagine. What's important now is that you take a breath, because otherwise you'll panic." 

While you're afraid of what he's thinking, you trust him implicitly. "Okay." 

"Okay," he says, pulling your hands away from your face. "Just breathe, honey." 

He's more patient than you knew another person could be. He wipes your straggling tears with his hand without a word, his breath coming in even inhales and exhales for you to follow. The small spike of panic swiftly melds to plain old tears. You're embarrassed. You're unhappy. You and Aaron certainly weren't trying for this occasion. 

"What are you scared of?" he asks eventually. 

"Of you. Of what you're thinking, and– and what if I– I mean, what if I'm pregnant?" you ask, as though pregnant is a new word. When you said it at first, you'd meant, what if we end up having a baby together? But now you're more inclined to think about the process itself. What if you're physically pregnant? 

"Well, you have absolutely no reason to be scared of me. I love you." Aaron puts his hand just under your ear, his thumb to your cheek. "Whatever happens. Nothing else matters to me besides you." 

"Because you want a baby," you say unhappily. 

"Who says I don't?" He smiles at you softly. "I think we should've had this conversation a long time ago, but the long and short of it is that I love you. I love you and I'll do what you need me to." 

"I figured you'd be done having babies," you say, still hesitant. 

"Evidently not." He laughs, and you laugh back and he acts like you've hung the moon. "If you're scared of being pregnant, maybe you should take the test before you wind yourself up, hm?" 

"I guess I'm acting pretty silly, huh?" you ask, sniffling and wiping your eyes, the two of you caught in breathy laughter again. 

"Hormonal, maybe," he says. "Don't be scared. I don't want you to be scared." 

"What do you want?" you ask. 

"I just want you to stop crying. It's not right…" He strokes your damp cheek. "If I'm honest? If you take that test, and you aren't pregnant, or if you don't want to have a baby," —his face is calm, a small smile playing on his lips— "then I don't want you to, either." 

"But if I am?" you ask. 

"Then I will be so, so happy, because it's you." 

A missed period isn't necessarily indicative of pregnancy, and you could be freshly pregnant or four whole weeks and the test could still come out negative. Maybe your weird feeling is indigestion. Whatever happens, you really believe that the man in front of you is here for whatever answer you find. 

"I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, bone deep sincerity turned to something lighter, fondly teasing as he lifts himself up and hugs you close. "You know that." 

You let him hold you for a little while, calming down, looking at the positives and all your options. "You think Jack would be happy?" 

"He'd love a brother or sister… eventually." 

You wipe your tears and runny nose in his shirt and he does you the generosity of pretending not to notice. If you are going to have anyone's baby, you'd want it to be his. 

[animeaandp]

MHA Prompt

.

.

“Need something..?”

You hesitate hearing the exhaustion in his voice; maybe this was a mistake. It’s the middle of the night but there’s no one else to turn to, so you try not to grip the doorknob too tightly or fumble your words. “I’m sorry, I know it’s past lights out and you’re busy…u-um…” Aizawa picks up the conflict in your voice and fully turns towards you. Dragging his hand over his face to wake up, he gives you his undivided attention. “No it’s alright. What do you need?” His voice had softened but it’s difficult to hold his eye contact. "I…If-.."

"...?"

"..If it’s not asking too much; may I sit in here? I swear not to distract you. Everyone else is asleep and, I don’t want to be alone right now...please.." Aizawa studies your face, noting the drained complexion with raw and puffy eyes, and understands that this isn’t a simple request. “Of course. Come in.” You close the door behind you “thank you” then hurriedly find a spot on the floor against the wall and curl into your knees. Aizawa watched your movements but left you to your devices and turned back to his work. Occasionally he steals a glance but you stay true to your word and don’t make a sound or move an inch.

Thankfully, being in his presence helps how you hoped it would. Every breath you take smells like him and knowing he’s here makes you feel safe, like nothing can hurt you now. Hopefully you’ll calm down enough to go back to your room soon. Aizawa sets his pencil down though, and comes to offer you his hand. “The bed is far more comfortable than the floor. Fresh sheets I promise.” You lift your head for a moment considering his words but “I’m okay right here. I’m imposing enough as is..” He smiles turning away, “you could never impose” and grabs a box of tissues to give you “but holding in whatever is troubling you this much.,.I don’t like that.”

“…”

You accept the tissues and your tears finally break free. "I’m sorry" you try hiding it as he takes a seat beside you. "It’s okay. It’s safe to cry here." He wraps an arm around your shoulder and welcomes you to let it all out. You wanted to stop but “I don’t know what’s wrong with me…I-I don’t know why I’m so sad all the time-but, I’m empty. I feel this ache when I’m alone and more and more when I’m not…it’s starting to scare me; I don’t know how to cope anymore…that’s why I came here. I needed to run away somewhere…I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do..” Aizawa's heart grows heavy with every confession and he holds you tighter. "Always run to me-always. Never let this fear talk you out of that. Understand.?"

“You have so much to deal with; I don’t want to become a burden. But, I appreciate all of this. I feel better.” He sighs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. This would take one step at a time, so tonight was plenty for step one; he'll let it go for now. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“…Can I stay until you’re done working?”

“Of course, get some rest.”

As the night goes on the atmosphere settles. The steady rhythm of Aizawa’s pen scratching against paper and his soft sighs of concentration creates soothing background noise. When he looks up again you’re fast asleep. He smiles and is careful not to make a sound walking over and crouching down in front of you. Little did you know he finished his work quite some time ago and was hoping this would happen before he ran out of paper to scribble over. His finger traces lazy circles over your cheek, drying the last of your tears. He shifts your body to rest in his arms “I won’t lose you to such nasty thoughts..” and carries you to his bed, then tucks you in. It felt like sleeping in a cloud and you curl into his pillow. He chuckles, “Is it really that comfortable?” Aizawa sorts the work on his desk then lays down himself, and after such a long day falls asleep easily. Hopefully you'd seek him out again the next time this happened, but maybe skip the floor, his knees weren't what they were.

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 3

Thank you so much for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup !!🖤

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 3208

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law gives you the choice to go against your doctor's recommendations as you begin your recovery. Are you clear headed enough to make the right choice?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush), Needles, Drugs, Arguing, Massage, Praise Kink, Pain, Dissociation, Humiliation, Gaslighting, Non-Consensual Drug Use, (Implied)

A/N: I hate hospitals 😩 But for Law I might make an exception... Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Beeping. 

What is that sound? There’s another sound.

That soun–

Fuck!

A strangled cry left your throat, pain tearing through you.

Tight, fuck it’s so tight, can’t–

Your eyes were still too droopy to open as your hands scrambled at your neck. A sharp pinch twisted against your right wrist, and you felt the pull of wires restricting its movement. 

That beeping noise was louder now.

“Y/N, you’re okay, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Law’s deep voice pulled you out, giving you a reason to open your eyes. He pulled your hands away from scratching at the neck brace, and you slumped with relief at his touch. 

Only to let out a choked scream at the pain.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Can you stay still for me? I know you can, you’re so strong.”

“I don’t want to be strong anymore.”

Your confession slipped quietly from your trembling lips as you tried to acclimate to the pain, tried to be still for him. 

His brow creased as he looked down at you, and you felt pathetic. You wanted to take it back.

Law brought those cool, tattooed fingers to your face, leaving featherlight touches along your temple and cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed, burning tears starting again.

“You’re right,” he rasped, brushing your tears away with his fingers, leaving the tissues in their box this time.

“You’ve been strong for so long, haven’t you? You shouldn’t have to fight so hard every day.”

Gentle sobs left your throat, interrupted by a small gasp.

His hand still traced your face in soothing lines, until he brushed his tear soaked thumb across your lips.

Your eyelids were still heavy, but you held them open to melt into the storm gray eyes above you. 

“You don’t need to be strong with me, Y/N,” he breathed, close enough to leave the warmth of his words on your face. “I’ll save you.”

~

Beeping.

I’m with Law. I’m okay.

Foggy dreams of Law’s hands on your face made your skin flush before you opened your eyes. 

That beeping got louder as you fought off the embarrassing thoughts you were having about your doctor’s hands, but the slight shift you made in the bed had you forgetting it all, groaning in pain.

“Nice and slow, Y/N. You’re safe, just take some deep breaths.”

Your doctor stepped into view, his eyes scanning your body before gifting you with a gentle smile. 

Attempting a small stretch of your arms was a bad choice, but it brought your attention to the rest of your body. 

The bed was still angled so that your upper body was lifted. Lying flat had been excruciating. But even with your raised position, it was difficult to look down at yourself over the neck brace. 

“Where are my clothes,” you muttered, looming horror growing at the feeling of a hospital gown against your skin. 

“I apologize, Y/N,” Law admitted gently, tilting his head toward the beeping machine. “I needed to monitor your vitals to ensure your safety since we used that medication to help you sleep. I’m afraid I had to cut through your top to avoid injuring your neck further. I was able to save your bra, and I have scrubs you can wear once your neck is healed enough for you to pull the clothes on by yourself.”

He just said a whole bunch of words. 

Your brain decided the best way to handle all of the emotions flying through your head was to ignore them.

“Why do I have an IV?” You changed the subject, lifting your wrist, and tugging all the tubes with it. 

“Again, since you hadn't had that drug before, I took this as a safety precaution. I assumed you would prefer a single needle versus the potential of many if I needed to administer more medication,” he explained as he disconnected you from the tubes, but left the placement on your wrist. “You’ve also been receiving fluids, which is essential after the traumatic night you had.”

A nod made you wince, so you thanked him softly, feeling warmth move through your chest as another hint of a smile touched his lips. 

“Do you have the energy to move, Y/N? I’d like to show you the room, and do another physical exam to see if you’ve improved since last night.”

The thought of moving hit you with the sudden realization that you needed to fucking pee.

“Is there a bathroom,” you asked, holding your breath from embarrassment. 

“Of course, it’s right here. Let me help you.”

After many whimpers, and groans, and heavy breaths, you were on your feet. Shaking with pain as he led you to the door, you knew that nothing else could have motivated you to walk right now. 

“Do you need help sit–”

“I’ll be fine,” you blurted out, closing the door. 

He’s my doctor. This is fine. He’s helping me because I’m injured, and he’s my doctor.

Those thoughts did not diminish your embarrassment, especially when you did struggle to fucking sit down. 

Gritting your teeth, and clinging to the safety bar, you managed to keep at least some sliver of your dignity by not yelling for him to help you. 

Shame rocked through you as you washed your hands, avoiding looking in the mirror. You didn’t want to know how wrecked you looked. 

But you looked anyway. 

You wanted to splash some water on your face, but couldn’t bend down to do it. 

“Y/N, are you doing alright in there?”

“I’m fine,” you called out as you fought with the ties of the gown. 

Oh my gods, he took all of my fucking clothes off.

That knowledge kicked in again as you tried to make sure every inch of your ass was covered.

“Can you put me to sleep again,” you half joked, taking his hand as he helped you through the door. 

“We don’t want to overdo it,” he said in that serious tone he’s so good at, leading you slowly toward the center of the room.

He sat backwards in that rolling chair. 

But his chair isn’t that color…

“Is this the same room,” you interrupted him, looking around by turning your body instead of your head. You couldn’t tell if the weird sounds you were hearing were real, or if you were just getting a headache from moving around.

“No,” he hummed, nodding slowly at you. “I’m impressed you were able to notice that in this state.” 

You followed the line of his arm as his tattooed finger pointed to a large door. 

“Those are my quarters. I had you moved to an adjacent room so that I can be close if you are in pain, or become injured again. That vent is open so I’ll be able to hear if you need me.”

“O-Oh…”

He shifted his hand again, and you turned to follow it, your eyes a bit wide.

“You already know where your bathroom is. The third door leads out into the corridors of the Polar Tang, but Y/N,” he said, his voice taking on more force, “I request that you refrain from leaving these quarters until you are steadier on your feet. I would hate for you to become injured under my care.”

“But how–”

“Y/N,” he rasped, that low voice pulling you in, “let’s complete the exam before you tire yourself out, alright?”

“Okay.”

“There you go,” he purred, “I love seeing you take care of yourself. Do you consent to me touching you?”

Your ‘yes’ was barely audible as you tried not to let his words, and the way his words sounded with that dangerous voice, make you fall over. 

Feeling his fingers on you might be your favorite thing in the world. Even as you whimpered in pain while he checked along your shoulders and spine. 

“This seems to be the problem area,” he noted, tracing lightly over your left shoulder down between your shoulder blade and spine, rubbing along a few of the vertebrae. 

“But my neck?”

“Everything’s connected, Y/N,” he breathed over your ear, making you shiver and wince. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you learn how your body works.”

Fuck, his voice.

There was no way, no fucking way that you could be dripping wet in a hospital gown while your body was stiff with pain. No way that tight coil of pressure could be building in your core over the only doctor that had ever helped you, ever believed you. 

I can’t fuck this up. 

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” you lied, catching yourself before you nodded this time. 

“Let’s have you sit down. We need to take the brace off, so I can examine your neck again. It is going to be painful. Are you ready, or would you like to take a break first?”

~

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.”

“You are doing so well for me,” Law praised, gently removing the brace to press against your neck, asking you questions while you tried not to move.

How can I like his fingers touching me like this? What is wrong with me?

“Look at you. I’m so proud of how you’re handling this,” he rasped, soothing your whimpers as he secured the brace again.

“When will I be able to go home?”

Law’s jaw shifted a bit as he sat back, and it felt like the air in the room got heavy. 

“As your doctor, I had to make the call to protect your health. We left your island, and my recommendation is that you remain with me for the time being. I think we both realized that one more week of treatment would not be enough support for your chronic condition. This incident with your neck further proves your need to receive continued treatment.”

“Left the– We’re underwater,” you said in a small voice, realizing what the strange clanking sounds in the background must be. 

“You took me away,” you asked softly as your boyfriend’s warnings about Law started playing in your mind.

Fear ran through you then, and the metal room grew smaller, your oxygen growing harder to find. Panic hit your lungs, fast, shallow, useless breaths spiking your neck with pain.

“Y/N,” he drawled, that voice almost frightening now.

“But you were going to be there another week. Why did you take me? Why–”

“Y/N, I will take you back right now if that's what you want,” he soothed, voice warm and inviting. “Please let me explain why I had to make that choice. You weren’t able to make decisions for your own health and safety at the time. As your doctor, I had to do what I believed was best for your wellbeing.”

You stilled, your breath slowing, but staying shallow. That fuzzy distance started to take over, but you dug your nails into your palms to try to focus on what your doctor was saying. 

“Your boyfriend came to the ship in the morning, demanding to take you home.”

The image in your mind built up. That fight. The keys you left in the open door. 

You jolted a bit as Law laid his hand on your clenched fist. 

“He refused to listen when I explained your condition, and that it would be dangerous to move you so soon. He…” Law took in a heavy breath, looking to the ground as he shook his head. When he met your eyes again, his were deep and sad, but etched with kindness. 

“Y/N, your boyfriend accused me of taking advantage of your ‘obsession with being sick.”

Those words were thick like the nausea rising in your throat. 

He did say little things sometimes. Things that made it seem like he didn’t believe me. 

Law’s thumb stroked the back of your fist until you relaxed your hand. He took it in his before continuing with a gentle voice.

“He threatened to return with a group to take you by force. You are my patient, Y/N. I could not in good conscience release you in this current state. I had to make the call since couldn’t.”

That inner distance was coming again, all the sounds feeling washed out. Until he squeezed your hand, leaning in close. 

He smells good. 

“As your doctor, I must always do what is in your best interests. I believe that you should remain here under my care, at least until we have time to make progress with physical therapy. Until you feel safer in your own body.”

Your eyes had to close. It was all too much.

“However, it will always be your decision, Y/N,” he comforted. His voice was smooth, and thick, like some rich dessert. “If you choose to go against my recommendations, I will turn around right now. If you want to go back home, I will take you. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

A trembling mouth opened, but you had no words to speak. 

“Y/N, I need you to really think about this. Think about what’s best for you.”

Law massaged your hand as he spoke in that liquid voice, a shiver breaking you out of the fog. 

“Where was he, Y/N,” he asked, not pausing for an answer. “You walked all the way here on your own, didn’t you? The amount of pain you were in was frightening, yet you chose to suffer alone. Why didn’t you ask for his help?”

He caught your rush of tears with a tissue, his voice raspy as he came closer to dry your face. 

“Do you want to go back to a place where all the doctors treat you like you’re crazy?”

Years of frustration, anger, and pain fell on you, but you tried to stay present, tried to think straight.

“Do you want to go back to a family that doesn’t believe you? To a partner that believes you’re pretending, that thinks you want to be sick?”

No. You didn’t.

But you tried to let it go, tried to think without emotions. You wanted to shake your head, to move, to fling some of these sickening feelings off of you. 

But you couldn’t move. You were in too much pain. 

And Law is the only person who cares. 

“You know, Y/N, I understand exactly how lonely and angry you must feel.”

He trapped you in the stone wall of his eyes again, and you’d never seen this look on his face before. 

“When I was a child, myself and everyone I knew got sick. They all died.”

“I—“

“Even though I wasn’t contagious, even though I was just a child, every single doctor treated me like I was trash.”

The hand that was holding yours was squeezing tighter while you were frozen by his barely contained rage.

“There was only one person in the world who cared about me,” he muttered, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit.

“He did everything he could to save me. Even when I fought him. Even when I hurt him... He never stopped.”

The overwhelming closeness you’d felt in that metal room was easing, and the heat of tears building in your throat wasn’t for yourself this time.

Law rested his palm against your cheek, and that foggy dream floated through your mind.

“I’m not like all those doctors that abandoned us, that left us to suffer all alone,” he rasped, the twitching of his creasing brows giving you more emotion than you’d seen from him before.

“I will never abandon you, Y/N.”

His promise filled the air, as if this metal room were a ringing bell, the vibrations wracking through your body.

I feel like I should be scared. But why? He’s helping me. No one has ever helped me before. He’s just intense because he knows.

He knows this pain even more than I do. 

Of course he’d do all of this to help me. He’s just helping me.

Law kept his hand on your cheek while he waited for you to think. He didn’t push, just gave you time. You heard the heart rate monitor starting to slow as you breathed with him.

He had taught you to follow his breathing during exercises, and now it felt natural, soothing. 

“I want to stay with you. If you want to help me.”

“Of course I want to help you,” he purred, brushing a few strands from your forehead before stroking his fingers through your mussed up hair.

“I’m your doctor. You can trust me.”

~

“Law?”

“Are you alright,” he answered as he charged through the connecting door.

“I’m fine. Well, the same,” you reported, trying to shift your body up the bed. 

It was getting difficult for you to tell the passage of time underwater, but you knew it had been at least a week.

Your pain was reducing, and your range of motion was improving, but you were still on bed rest unless Law was with you to guide your movements.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” you said, a sheepish grin pulling at your lips. “I’m just… I’m so bored, Law. And if I listen to Bepo’s Uta tone dial one more time, I’m going to go insane.”

That crooked smile made your skin flush as he walked toward you. He started piling pillows onto your lap, gently moving your arms out of the way before propping them up.

“I believe you’ve healed enough to read a book with some support,” he rasped as he brought his fingers to your skin. He pressed lightly against your shoulders, your jaw, and around the edges of the brace. You only winced a little when he stuck his fingers in to check the tightness.

“Although, you’ll need to make sure you’re not straining yourself, so we’ll have to start with short periods of time. Can you do that for me, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you agreed with a smile. It felt like your birthday, finally getting to open and enjoy your presents.

“You like mysteries, right,” he asked as he walked toward the door.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Your smile wilted just a bit as you tried to recall telling him that.

You hated being so loopy all the time. It felt like you were missing out on parts of your life. 

“This is one of my favorites,” you almost squealed, catching yourself before you wiggled in your hospital gown.

“Really,” he teased as he took it back, flipping through the pages. “I’ll go find you something you haven’t read then.”

“No, please. I love it, thank you.”

“Show me how you’ll be holding it, Y/N.”

Law’s hands on your arms made you crave his massages more than seemed healthy. With your neck as it had been, he wouldn’t risk hurting you. 

You still couldn’t lie flat anyway.

But I’m getting better. Then we can start. He can teach me how to take care of my body. He can touch me again.

Your own thoughts sent blood rushing to your face as you dove in, getting lost in one of your favorite mysteries. 

Even though you knew who the villain was, you always loved the thrill of the chase. 

And you still weren’t sure who you were rooting for. 

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I'm having so much fun 😈

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @metonimia-de-bellota | @3v37773 | @dewdropsandfrogs | @nubigenouss

Part 4

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[purrplegyuu]

Barely adults | So Junghwan

Warnings: Poor plot, First time (not penetration), masturbation, only clitoris stimulation actually, both of them are virgins, no actually loss of virginity but kind of, gramatical/spelling mistakes (maybe, english is not my first language), let me know if I'm missing something else.

Pairing: Best friend!Junghwan x Best friend!fem reader.

Word count: 1,6k

Masterlist

hiiiiiiiiiii!, it's been already a month since I started staning Treasure, but this is my first work about one of them. I wrote it at one am (i use to sleep at 8 pm) so that's why there might be a lot of mistakes. I would really appreciate for you to tell me if you find any mistake or if you'd like me to change something.

Remember my ask box is still open (even if i haven't answered any ask yet, so sorry to thos 4 people looool), so feel free to request some words. I write for Txt (obviously), Treasure, Zerobaseone, Seventeen and enhypen (maybe, I'm not sure yet).

That's everything, enjoy and have a nice day!

Us. Both barely adults who don’t really know what are we doing. Or what are we going to do.

“Have you thought about your career?” I ask. Is a trending topic in both of our houses since we both decided to take a gap year right after we graduated from high school. 

Yeah, we are planning on attending college, however, we were both too tired after three large years of taking high school a little too seriously. My parents were so mad when I told them about my decision, and even threatened me to throw me out of home. They eventually forgot about it, but before that happened, we were in a neverending fight for three months. 

His situation had been a little bit different.

He never told me about it, but I noticed. Starting from the day he told his parents about his decision, when he showed up to my bedroom window on the second floor (I still don’t really know how he made it) and asked to sleep on the couch of my room. Secondly, the one time I went to his house to hang out a bit and heard his parents telling him horrible things about how disappointed they were. And finally, tonight, when he asked me to meet at his older brother’s apartment, just for me to find him on the big bed with a pair of big, red eyes. 

I’ve got to say I understand our parents. He was first place in class and I was second. Must have been hard for them. And I have to confess it–I feel guilty, I am guilty. I was the one who proposed it and convinced him. Guess I just didn’t thought about the consequences.

However, it’s been nine months since those events now, and it’s already time for us to choose what college career are we going to study now.

“Junghwan?” I called him since he hadn’t answered. 

He’s looking right straight to his brother's desk next to the bed.

The silence grows more awkward and he just doesn’t seem to care I’ve came in his brother’s apartment minutes ago. 

“Junghwan!” I almost scream, finally catching his attention. He looks at me for a while before asking “Hm?”

“You finally decided what to study?” We’ve been both too lost about it. 

He shakes his head no before falling silent once again. 

After a few seconds, his hand lifts up from the edge of the bedroom, and offers it to me. I take it, and soon he pushes me onto his lap.

“Wa!” I yell, impressed by his sudden strength over me.

We’ve never been like this before. We’ve never been this close before. Yet, I’ve always dreamt about it.

“Ju-junghwan, you’re too clumsy” I jokingly said, trying to act like I didn’t get what is he doing. I move on his lap trying to stand up, however, he takes both of my hands and forces me to move closer to him. 

“”I’m not” he looks right into my eyes while breathing on my face. His breath feels addictive like drugs, it is hard for me to breathe, and my lower lip trembles from the massive desire of kissing him.

And it looks like he’s feeling just like me, because it takes him just a few seconds to melt his lips into mine in a way I’ve never seen before, not even in the best porno.

His lips move away from mine. Our foreheads touch, our noses meet, and we both remain silent for a few seconds while we catch our breath. And then, he kisses me again. His hand lets mine go, and I hold myself on his shoulders while one of his hands take the back of my neck and the other one takes my thigh from under the light green dress I decided to wear (for him, but that’s supposed to be a secret).

Everything is so fast, so rude and so forced it scares me. It doesn’t feel romantic but desperate; it doesn’t feel fluffy but feverish.

I take his hand when I feel it reaching my underwear, and cut the kiss while trying to breathe again. He looks at me confused. His red swollen lips wanting nothing but to kiss me again, his hand on my neck taking me strongly, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the moment and his dark pupils waiting for me to say something.

“Junghwan,”I try to speak but I’m just too embarrassed to speak–because I’m red as an apple, because I’ve just kissed him and because… “Junghwan, I haven’t… had sex yet”

He laughs lowly, taking me again into his hands to kiss me one more time. “Don’t worry,” He says between kisses. “me neither”

His lips move to my cheek, leaving some wet kisses before moving to my ear, then to my neck and finally my clavicles. My hands squeeze his shoulders strongly while lifting my dress slowly, making my skin crawl.

He stops kissing me to look right into my eyes to find my agreement, which he happens to find fastly before taking my dress off of my body. My hand runs down his abdomen, looking for the hem of his black hoodie to try to lift it up. He helps me do it, lifting his arms so I can take it off, and once I’m done, he switches our positions, throwing me to the bed. 

He goes back to kiss my lips while his hands caresses my skin slowly, playing with my sanity by taking the hem of my panties and drawing the outline of it. His lips move to my ear, leaving a kiss in there before whispering “You look so pretty… all messy and small under me” and “Isn’t it funny? You’re the one who always leads me, and now I’m on top of you” before laughing.

I’m the extrovert one, I’m the noisy one. Whenever someone approaches both of us, it is because they’re trying to know about me. I’ve heard people telling he’s always been only a shadow always walking behind me. Yeah, I’m socially a dom, but he’s been secretly a sexual dom all this time.

I turn around to look at his eyes, silently begging for him to not tease me any second more, and that’s when I feel his hand move in my panties, touching my skin everytime closer to my cunt. And I thought he wasn't going to give everything I asked for so easily, however, his finger started circling my clitoris right after he reached it. He kept on kissing my right clavicle while his other hand moved to my back, looking for the clasp of my bralette. He undoes it and takes it off completely. 

I feel my stomach tensing up for the first time, making me whine loudly and arch my back. “Have you touched yourself before?” He asks. I nod slowly.

“Ye-yes, but never came” And never felt that good.

My stomach tenses a second time, making me whine even louder and higher. I take his arm as if wanting to slow down. 

“Why?” He asks, making my cheeks even hotter. 

“I-I’ve never-“ A moan escapes from my throat. “I’ve never been able to.” Every time I touched myself, I would just stimulate my clitoris for minutes until the feeling is so overwhelming I can’t deal with it and stop touching it. I even thought I was asexual. However, I’ve always wanted to touch myself again every night after seeing Junghwan’s abs.

His fingers speed up, making me scream his name loudly while pleading for him to slow down, however, we both know that's not what I want. I squeeze his arm harder, my hips move by themselves, my back arches, my lower abdomen is so tense I feel I’m about to explode. And then, an overwhelming feeling floods me up, making me moan while my voice breaks out because of the way he kept touching my clit even after I came. Finally, he slowed down until he stayed still while his hand rested in my panties. 

My eyes still closed, my chest rising and falling as I try to catch my breath. And once I think I’m right, I open my eyes, just to find him looking at me closely with the sweetest smile ever. 

everything around me is spinning, my head hurts a little, I feel the sweat on my forehead and everything not called 'Junghwan' feels so unnecessary.

He hugs me, leaving a kiss on my forehead before turning on the lamp on the nightstand and turning the room’s lights off. He knows me so well, he knows I’m still afraid of the dark.

[juuuulez]

Hello :) Carl x F!Greene!Reader, Reader and Carl had been pining for each other since they met at the farm but they haven't had a chance to talk about it TO CONFESS so basically more than friends but no label. Back in s5e15 Carl chases Enid when he spots her climbing over the wall. And in the tree scene where they almost kissed, Reader somehow spots them(was on a walk to relieve stress) I am such a sucker for ANGST. You have full reign of how the story will go! Ty v much :))

Little Pleasures.

info: S5Carl x Greene! Reader, technically no pronouns used but u can fill that in mentally, kids being stupid.

summary: You catch Carl and Enid sharing an intimate moment, and can no longer repress your feelings for the Grimes’ boy. Luckily, he intends on making it right.

this was soooo cute to write!!! plss send more request i loved doing this!

You’ve learnt to enjoy the little things in life.

Seeing your sister, Maggie, happy with Glenn filled you with joy. Carol would sometimes bring over cookies, and promised to teach you the recipe. Once Daryl found an old music box while on a supply run, and brought it back for you.

But your favourite little pleasure? Well, that was easily Carl Grimes.

Whenever you were sad, he’d notice, and let you read his comics. He was perceptive like that, and could sense your emotions from a mile away. Maybe he, too, felt this deep sense of sadness, an ache that never went away.

After the death of your father and sister, that ache became all consuming. Some days you couldn’t bare to get up, and yet those where the days Carl turned up, standing on your porch. Throwing stones at your window.

Once again, it was these little things that made life worthwhile. You liked to think that Carl enjoyed your company as much you did his.

Sure, back at the prison Beth had egged you to make a move on him, as it was no denying how the sheriff’s boy made your heart sore. Back then, it was a silly little crush, one you’d indulge in just to pass the time. But now it was impractical. Seeing everybody you loved perish numbed you, and growing attached to Carl would only result in further turmoil.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

So why did seeing Carl with Enid hurt so much?

Whenever you were particularly sad, a walk seemed to help. Except for now, crouched behind a bush watching Carl and Enid hiding in a tree, their faces inches away. It made you feel sick.

Why was he with her? Did she have something you didn’t? Was she prettier? Could understand his comics better?

Your mind ran rampage, the embarrassing feeling of hot tears spilling into your cheeks. This was pathetic. You’d sworn that Carl meant nothing to you, and yet you couldn’t handle seeing him with someone else.

In a hurry, you took off, scurrying back to Alexandria. No more walks. No more going outside. No more little pleasures.

That was until late at night, when the familiar tapping on your window returned.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

“Stop it!” You shout, moving to pry your window open just before Carl can throw another stone. It makes your insides feel warm and fuzzy, the sight of him standing there, hair messy under his hat. You’d missed him.

“Will you come down?” He asks in a plea, speaking in this whisper-shout in an attempt not to wake the whole neighbourhood. “I haven’t seen you all day. Thought maybe you weren’t feeling well.”

Your jaw clenches, wanting nothing more than to banish him from your sight. “Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

It was harsh, childish venom dripping from your tone as you slam the window shut, the harsh action vibrating against the wall. Sniffling, wiping messily at your eyes, you sat back down on your bed.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

You groan into your pillow, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs against the bedding. Why won’t he give up?

At your lack of response, there’s silence. It sounds like Carl’s gone home. Good. Now you can avoid him all day, all night, and never have to see him that close to Enid again. She can have him.

Only a few minutes later there’s a knocking at your door. You tilt your head out of the pillow, looking across the room. However, before you can give permission, the door is opening, revealing Carl once more.

“I said I didn’t want to talk to you!” You scold him, and in a fit of aggression, throw your pillow over at the boy.

He catches it seamlessly, throwing it into the bed as he approaches you. “Why the hell not? I got a new edition of Hawkeye. Thought you’d want to read it.”

“Why don’t you read it with Enid?” You mumble, turning away from him to face the opposite wall. This all seems so childish and stupid, the exact thing you wanted to avoid by distancing yourself from Carl.

There’s a beat of silence.

The bed dips slightly, a warm presence filling the space next to you. It takes everything within your power not to look at him.

“Enid doesn’t like comics,” Carl tells you, his voice quiet and sincere, like he can sense how upset you are no matter how irrational. “I wanted to see you today. But you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

You roll your eyes, and with one motion, fall back onto your bed with a huff. “I thought I didn’t want to be near you. Incase… I started enjoying it too much.”

You’re met with silence again, like an indication to continue. At least, that’s how you take it.

“Something bad’s gonna happen, Carl. It always does. And I don’t want… to be too sad, when you get hurt. Or when I get hurt.”

There’s a gentle thud as Carl falls back onto the bed, laying next to you over the covers. You don’t look at him, but he’s looking at you.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asks, “It’s okay to be scared… but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do things that make you happy.”

You don’t respond, too embarrassed to admit the feelings that have been eating you up inside. The words you can’t seem to push past your lips, no matter how hard you try.

Luckily, Carl does it for you.

“Do I make you happy?”

It’s an innocent question, yet makes your face flush red, ashamed that he’s been able to pick you apart so easily. If your reaction wasn’t obvious enough, you meekly nod in confirmation.

If you were facing Carl, you’d see the smile that spread across his face.

“You make me happy, too. More than you could understand.” He tells you, an admission that warms your heart.

Finally, you look over at him, and find that Carl is closer than you anticipated. He’s taken his hat off, resting further on the bed, brown hair messily splashed out on the sheets.

A smile of your own makes its way onto your face, feeling understood in a way that’s become so foreign. This couldn’t get any better.

Until it did.

“Can I… kiss you?” Carl asks, an innocent request that reignites that fire within you, the one you’ve been ignoring for so long.

When you speak, it comes out in a nervous whisper, “Please.”

For the first time in months, you’ve found something that truely makes you happy. A little pleasure above all.

The way Carl gently places his lips on yours, hands cupping your face like it were made from porcelain, that you may shatter under his fingers. He’s nervous, but that’s okay. You’re nervous, too.

You could definitely get used to this.

[happy-beeeps]

Hello there! My request is this: the reader wants to learn hand-to-hand combat but has a crush on Hunter and doesn’t know how to ask him. Omega helps the reader and the reader gets what she wants. On the first day of training she trips and lands on top of Hunter and fluff or smut happens. Up to you :)

hahahahaha heyyyyyy I'm so sorry this is so late. In good news, it got away from me and turned into 4k words of the softest smut I've written!!! I am in love with this man!!!!

(also if you're asking yourself if I was inspired by the top gun volleyball scene the answer is yes I was and no I won't apologize for it.)

Take My Breath Away

pairing: Hunter x f!reader

WC: 4k

MINORS DNI 18+ BELOW CUT

Warnings: p in v sex, fingering, first time, feelings confession, awkward reader

Summary: When Omega convinces Hunter to finally train you in combat, things don't go to plan... or do they?

You’re leering, you know it. You really can’t help it, your spot inside the Marauder has left you with a perfectly obscured view to watch the training exercises happening outside. There’s a box of medical supplies in your lap while you stare through the front viewport, watching Hunter and Tech team up against Echo and Wrecker as they practice hand-to-hand perfectly in your view. 

Hunter has long forgone his long sleeve black shirt, his tattoos on full display as his skin bakes in the sun. It is hot, you supposed, but you assumed nearly every midday on Jakku got this warm. They’re all in various states of undress, grappling with each other with the kind of joyful fighting that reminds you of the village boys and their games back home. 

Sweat beads roll off his chest in a slight pattern, and you can see through the viewport that he’s used his bandana as a makeshift tie, pulling his hair up into some kind of knot on the top of his head. Echo has gotten Tech into some kind of hold, and the latter is thrashing against him trying to wiggle his way out. Hunter, however, is practically glistening as he shoots Wrecker a grin while they circle one another, until his legs push against the coarse sand outside and he lunges for his younger brother’s legs. He must’ve gotten Wreck with an element of surprise because the larger clone actually tumbles a bit, his center of gravity thrown off. You can’t hear them from inside the ship, but from the looks on their faces you can tell they’re laughing. Echo seems to have succeeded in locking Tech down, and the four of them exchange shakes and smirks–and move to repeat the game. 

Happiness looks good on him.

“Why are you watching Hunter again?” Omega’s small, but chipper, voice startles you from your daydream (something involving Hunter and his back that you’ll never tell.)

“Nothing! I’m not, not even watching him,” you stumble, trying desperately to make yourself look busy with the box in front of you. “I’ve gotta keep an eye on his injuries Meg, that's all.”

“But I thought you said he’d be better three rotations ago?”

She’s caught you now, and your face grows hot with the realization. “Well, yeah, of course. But still, as a medic, it’s my job to keep an eye on you all.”

You move to stand and ruffle her hair, toting the box on your hip as you move to go back to the med closet. You suppose you’ve done enough gawking for today.

“Are you red because you’re embarrassed about something?”

Now this makes you stop in your tracks. You whip your head to turn and face the young girl, who’s mouth smiles innocently at you while her eyes smirk knowingly. Kriff. You knew you shouldn't have let her start watching romcoms. 

“I’m not embarrassed,” you start, still making your way to the closet while Omega follows closely behind. “I just don’t know any combat, so I’m watching to learn, it’s just embarrassing not to know.”

Nice. Good save. You’ll pat yourself on the back for that one later. 

“Oh, that makes sense.” Is all you get from Omega, before you’re met with the sound of her feet moving down the walkway. You’re left alone with your thoughts, idylly shuffling supplies around the closet, delving back to your daydream. Minutes pass like this, in quiet peace, before a rough, masculine voice snaps you back to reality.

“Hey,” Hunter starts, leaning against the doorframe that separates the main cabin from the armory and med closet. He’s not shirtless anymore, instead wearing a mockingly thin white tank top that’s becoming less and less opaque the more his chest is pressed against it. “Omega said you wanted to learn some moves?”

Sure enough, Omega stands behind Hunter, arms crossed proudly as she looks between the two of you. “She’s important Hunter, she has to learn!” The younger girl shouts, and Hunter smiles down at her.

“Sure she is. That’s why I’m gonna teach her,” he looks up at you now with questioning eyes, “that is, if you’re interested? Tech is gonna bring Echo and Wrecker on a supply run for a few hours, so you don’t have to worry about them?”

“Y-yeah, that sounds great.” Maker, is that stumbling voice yours? This is getting worse by the minute.

“Hunter, can I go with? Tech said the market is no worse than Mos Eisley, and you let me go there, Wrecker already said he’d watch me!” Omega pleads with her big brother, pulling at his fingers in a subtle gesture to lead the two of you outdoors. 

“Sure, Meg. If it’s fine with them, it’s fine with me.”

* * *

Your body aches, your joints cracking with each move. You’ve barely even begun the training, merely the warmups Hunter has put you through in this scorching heat has gotten you coated in your own layer of sweat. He moved through each warm up with ease, and finished his last stretch lazily, leaning his weight on his back leg and placing his hands firmly on his hips. It took nearly everything in you not to stare at him, his shirt back on but replaced by a mockingly thin white tank top that grew less opaque with every passing moment.

“Thought you said you wanted to learn?” His voice brought you back out of your daydream, reminding you exactly why you were standing here. You had gone this long without him really knowing your feelings, aside from the simple flirtation the two of you shared to pass the time. One afternoon wouldn’t kill you.

“Thought you said we’d start slow,” you grumble in reply, moving to face him with an agitated determination.

He doesn’t give you a verbal response, merely moving to stand behind you, placing his hands and your shoulders before reaching them across to grab your wrists. “I’m gonna put you in the first stance,” he says, moving his hands, and your wrists, up to a blocking motion before kicking one of his feet between your legs. With gentle, albeit rough, taps to each foot, your legs slowly shuffled wider apart, granting you more stability on the sandy terrain. The motion of him slowly spreading your legs open, however, had the complete opposite effect, and your stomach dropped nearly to your toes as your chest flutters with warmth. This was exactly why you hadn’t asked for help in the first place.

“Looks good,” he started, moving back to face you. “Now, when you punch, you’re not just pushing your fist out, right? You’re punching with your whole arm, try hitting my hand.”

“But, I don’t want to hurt you!” You sputtered, and his lazy, easy smile returned.

“Trust me, you won’t.”

You pass nearly an hour like this, moving to punch Hunter with as much force as you could muster, and him blocking you with ease. It’s not that you were weak by any means, you wouldn’t have lasted as the Batch’s medic if you were, but this kind of strength was foreign to you. You were slipping, growing more tired by the moment. Your punches slowly falter. Finally, as the heat and the exertion caught up to you, your legs followed the swing of your arm, sending you toppling your whole weight onto Hunter.

He too must’ve begun feeling the heat, as his normally subvert reflexes failed him. Your weight and his surprise sent the two of you toppling onto the sand, his arms reaching to cup your elbows, carefully guiding you to land on his chest. The sweat on both of your skin made the two of you sticky, and your thin shirt did little to hide the flush of your chest as you pressed against his toned body. Hunter also seemed to be responding to the moment, his eyes opening and closing rapidly, his chest rising and falling with increasing speed.

Maker. You hadn’t thought about how awful you must’ve smelled.

“I’m sorry Hunter, I’m sure I smell-“

“Great,” he gritted out, you assumed his tone was dripping in sarcasm. Your wince must not have garnered the response he was hoping for, and his eyes widened in panic. “No, no, I mean it. Kriff, that’s not what I meant.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s warm out here, don’t mention it,” you shook awkwardly, moving to push off of him. Instead, Hunter’s grip on the backs of your arms tightened to hold you in place.

“I mean it,” he murmurs, “you’ve been driving me crazy all day.”

You blink in surprise as that warm feeling from before returns, and you resist the urge to press yourself against him even further. 

“What, just because I’m a slow learner?” you blush and shake your head, trying to hide your face from the intensity of his stare, and the overbearing Jakku sun.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“That,” he removes one hand from its spot on your arm to tug your chin back at him, his eyes falling to your lips for the briefest moment before coming back to yours, “hide from me.”

Your response is quiet, timid. “Because you don’t mean it.”

“Why would you think that? We’ve kind of been toeing around it for weeks now.”

You’re sputtering now, “I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t joke when it comes to you,” something akin to hurt flashes across his eyes, and his grip on your arms loosens slightly. Kriff. You’re losing him now, and the panic that settles in your chest takes over before your brain can properly think its way out of it.

You’re fully pressing your breasts against him now, relenting the rest of your weight onto him as your arms snake their way to his face and you pull him towards you before he has a chance to feel any more hurt at your expense. Your lips crash to his in a kiss that’s equal parts full of reassurance and want, and he molds against you quickly. Whatever doubt and hurt he might’ve felt a moment ago is replaced by something darker, something needier.

Hunter adjusts you on top of him easily, pulling you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. When you pull away from the kiss you watch as he brings your legs tighter around his waist and, with little struggle, manages to stand up against the sand, never dropping you from your perch.

You try not to go faint at the way his leg muscles tense beneath the rolled up cuffs of his pants as he lifts the two of you from the ground with ease. Hunter has always been scrappy, never as much bulk as Wrecker but easily the second largest of his brothers. Echo used to joke that what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle mass.

You can’t stop yourself from leaning in to him, placing needy open mouth kisses along the curve of his neck, the sharp edges of his jaw. He groaned at your touch, his steps quickening towards the Marauder. There’s a break as he fidgets with the controls to lower the ramp and it starts its painstakingly slow descent. In a fit of impatience, Hunter has your back pressed against the side of the ship and moves to kiss you again, this time it’s bruising and impatient. He’s been wanting this just as long as you, you realize. Whatever the door the two of you just opened isn’t going to be easily shut.

He’s methodical with the way he kisses you, but his hands are anything but. He pulls teasing tugs at your lower lip, slowly parts your mouth with his tongue–like he’s testing something. 

“Hunter,” you beg, turning your head from him in a feeble gesture to get him to notice that the ramp has lowered.

“I’ve just wanted to kiss you for so long,” he admits, a tenderness in his eyes that your stomach doing backflips, “I don’t think I can ever stop.”

He walks to the two of you up the ramp of the ship before setting you down gently in the hull. You’re staring up at him now, his hands resting on the small of your back, keeping you close.

“You tell me what’s too much cyar’ika. I’ll take whatever part of you you’ll give me.”

“All, all of me. I’m not afraid.” You murmur, pressing yourself against him before leaning to loop your arms around his neck.

He meets you halfway to kiss you, albeit gentler than before, before turning you and moving you backwards with small steps. You know this ship like the back of your hand, even backwards and with your eyes closed, and you can tell from the way he’s moving you that you’re moving towards his quarters.

“We can go to my room?” You ask, breathless. They had graciously turned the small medbay into a space for your quarters, of sorts. You had a larger bed than any member of the batch, with the caveat that your roommates were small surgical machines and overflow boxes of bacta. 

“No, want you in my bed, if that’s ok?” 

You nodded while he continued to guide you towards the rest of the batch’s quarters, your vision becoming shaded from the darkness of the room. You were grateful now that Hunter’s bunk was on the bottom, as the backs of your legs bumped into the mattress.

He laid you down on the mattress and quickly stretched across you, giving you full freedom to remove your arms from his neck and let them roam against the broad expanse of his back. His kisses met your neck almost as soon as he settled on the mattress, and from the way his teeth nipped at the soft skin, you knew you’d be littered with marks.

Whatever. You’re sure they’d pick up on it eventually. 

Your thoughts were interrupted as Hunter pulled you up towards him, using the space to pull your shirt off and discard it on the floor, leaving you in the thin cottony breastband you’d picked specifically because it was too hot to even think about something better. You, in turn, pulled at the hem of the thin white tank top, and he smirked at you as he moved back, pulling it up over his head. There was enough space between the bunks for him to sit comfortably upright, and you moved forward to meet him, bringing his hands to your waist.

“It’s too hot for all these layers.”

If he was surprised he barely showed it, raising an eyebrow before moving to unfasten your breastband, leaving the two of you bare from the waist up.

“Mesh’la, I can’t… I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t.” You smiled, leaning back on his mattress, watching his form cage you in.

His response was immediate, falling closer to you and moving his kisses farther down your neck before moving to bring his mouth to your breast, now bare to him. His lips dragged over your newly exposed flesh, before his tongue flattened over the stiff peak of your nipple.

He wasted no time in palming your other breast, and the briefest glance you got of your skin beneath his inked fingers was enough to elicit the smallest of whimpers from your mouth. He paused from his work on your nipple to glance up at you, before sending a devilish grin as his hand removed itself from your chest and made small movements towards your thighs. With a quick and decisive movement he placed his hand just on the squishy flesh of your inner thigh, before hooking a finger around the seam of your panties and shifting them down.

You jostled a bit to help them come off and Hunter surged to kiss you again, his breath warm and inviting on your mouth. In an instant you let out a soft gasp as his fingers began to move towards your folds, before he slowly pushed two fingers into your heat. 

The feeling of being filled in any capacity by him immediately sent warmth flooding to every corner of your body, and you bucked your hips against him as he moved his fingers in a delicious hooking motion, pulling you closer and closer to oblivion with each movement.

“So warm for me, so wet.” He grumbled against your neck, and your hands threaded through his hair, desperate to keep his body against yours.

“Hunter, need you, now.”

“Shh,” he murmured, moving faster, and a twisting in your feeling in your gut suddenly struck, along with the realization that you were quickly approaching an orgasm. “Come for me first, princess. Need to make you feel good first.”

His words and motions combined sent that first orgasm crashing over you fast, the tips of your fingers and the lower half of your body shaking in pleasure while he took his sweet time, coaxing every bit of your oblivion out of you in slow, melodic motions. When you had come back down to earth, he pulled his hand from you before bringing it to his mouth, bringing his fingers to his mouth and tasting you finally.

“Next time you’re finishing on my tongue,” he groaned, head thrown back. You took his momentary distraction to pull at the band of his boxers, already eyeing the deliciously thick silhouette of his hard length pressing against the fabric.

“Hunterrr,” you whined, leaning up and pressing kisses from his collarbone down his chest, before deciding you couldn’t take it anymore and plunging your hand into his boxers, running your hand up and down the velvety skin of his shaft. You paused at the tip, running your fingers over it and collecting the precum already leaking out.

“Need to learn some patience,” he groaned, before shifting to pull the last offending article of clothing off, and pressing you firmly, and softly to the mattress. With his boxers gone you could see him now. He was big, bigger than any man you’d been with before, and prettier too. The inky black markings of his tattoos led down his whole torso, pausing just at the start of his shaft. It was one of the few spots on his body where you could admire every inch of tanned, warm skin.

Hunter moved down to kiss you, this one sweet and short, running a hand down your core to collect some of the mess he’d already made of you, before running it along his length. He leaned back and looked at you, his eyes warming with a fondness that suddenly had you feeling more naked now than you had this entire time. 

“You take my breath away,” he murmured in a voice dripping with an emotion you weren’t bold enough to try and name, before picking up one of your legs and easily tossing it over your shoulder. “You’ve been my dream this whole time. Wanna make sure you’re ready.”

“Hunter,” you paused, reaching a hand up to his cheek, “if you don’t fuck me now, I’m going to go catatonic.”

His laugh had your leg shaking, and he rolled his eyes, “remind me to fuck some manners into you next time.”

Without any more pretense you felt his tip surge past your walls, stretching you out deliciously and giving a sense of satisfaction greater than anything you’d felt before. He pushed farther before bottoming out and nudging just right against that spot you’d always struggled to reach. The same one that had you tossing one arm over your eyes and another grasping at nothing out of pure bliss. His name breathed past your lips like a prayer, and you felt him shiver a bit at it.

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He moaned, starting his thrusts at a slow, manageable pace. You felt one of his hands slide up the sheets on his mattress before sliding and weaving his fingers between yours. “Don’t hide from me.” He whispered, and you brought your arm down, placing it firmly on the bicep he was using to support himself against you.

He felt fucking amazing. You had met a guy in an alley on Coruscant who tried to sell you deathsticks once, and you felt like you had to go back and tell him he was wrong. There had to be a better high. Being fucked into your pillows by Hunter while he held your hand and whispered to you had to be better. You weren’t a scientist (ok, maybe you were) but this had to be the best feeling a human being could feel.

Hunter’s pace quickened, and soon the cabin was filled with the sickeningly sweet sound of skin slapping against skin, his hips snapping against you. His senses must’ve made him perfectly attuned to how you were feeling, any shift in pleasure, any barely audible moan. His hand had removed itself from yours, instead holding your wrist and pressing you firmly into the bed in a move that felt more possessive and dominant than threatening.

“You’re mine.” You had moaned without realizing it, and his pace picked up again. A twisting, numbing feeling began to blossom in your core and Hunter brought your leg down, surging forward to kiss you as he fucked you farther into oblivion.

“You’re my girl, you’ve always been my girl.” He groaned into your neck before pulling back. “Just been waiting for you to realize it. I wanna hear you say it.”

“You’re mine, I’m yours.” You groaned, his hips bucking up and nudging again and again into that spot. His hand removed itself from your wrist and you used the newfound freedom to rake your hands down your back, sending moans of pleasure out of Hunter.

“I’m all yours princess,” he groaned, “so sweet, so soft for me. Fuck, so tight.”

His praise and words and breakneck speed had you hitting your orgasm like a brick wall, turning you from head to toe in a shivering, gasping mess as your walls clenched around him. You gripped his hair in a desperate attempt to tether yourself to something corporeal as he fucked you through it, his own pace becoming quick and sloppy.

“‘M close, where,” was all he was able to rasp out.

“In, ‘s okay.” Was the closest thing you had to a response. You’d tell him about your implant later.

In an instant, he was groaning into your neck, his hips slapping against yours sending you nearly into sensory overload, before you felt his warmth against you. For a moment after he barely moved, just breathed against you as if he couldn’t imagine this had actually happened. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, you running a hand along his back and through his hair as he pressed sweet kisses along your neck, likely trying to soften the purple marks you were certain he had left.

“Lemme get you cleaned up,” he whispered, as if careful not to scare the moment away. He pulled back from you slowly, before reaching to tug his pants back on and heading to the fresher. He was only gone for a few moments, returning with a warm, wet rag that he lovingly dashed between your legs and a pair of clean shorts from your quarters and one of his shirts.

“Thought you might want something comfortable.” He said as he passed it to you, and you quickly changed into it, relishing into how the shirt smelled so distinctly of him.

You moved to sit up but he toppled in bed next to you before you could. His bunk was small, barely enough space for the two of you, so he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

“Don’t go. Meant what I said.”

You blushed as you shimmied to turn your face to him. “Which part?”

“All of it. I’ve always wanted you. Not just for, you know,” he stumbled, seeming suddenly embarrassed.

“Sex?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna complain about that part,” he winked, before pulling you into him again, resting his head on top of yours. “I want to… care for you. In every way. You really take my breath away, always have.” He pressed a kiss against your hair, and you pressed closer to him in return.

“Then you’ll have me. For as long as I’m here and then some.” 

The two of you stayed like this into the night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, tangled limb to limb. Soon enough the lull of his heart had drifted you into sleep, and he did his best to shield you from the prying eyes and loud noises of the rest of the Batchers as they returned from the market, just as he swore to himself that he’d shield you from anything that threatened to take you from them, from him.

His girl he had said. And he had meant it.

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Charles/Pierre AUs

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I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired by @wolfiemcwolferson | M | 4k A Hunger Games AU wherein Charles and Pierre are both victors, doing their best to survive the glittering death trap of the Capitol and taking solace in each other for one singular night a year. Until everything changes one fatal Games. This fic truly captured the essence of the Hunger Games world, and tugged on every heartstring I have as a longtime fan of the series. The writing is so poignant, and I was moved almost to tears a couple of times, while also being kept on the edge of my seat. This was truly a stunning portrayal of love and the revolution it brings.

'“Charles,” he whispers, his voice raw from talking all night. “I love you.” Charles stumbles backwards. It’s the worst thing he’s ever said. It’s an admittance. It’s a confession to what Charles was worried about.'

tell me, baby by @ilspredestinato | M | 4.1k This is a softer sort of AU than some of the others on this list - Pierre and Charles are simply two normal people, not drivers, who meet by chance at a New Year's party and are instantly drawn to each other. Everything about this AU makes me feel warm and hopeful inside: Pierre and Charles' meeting is described with such loving detail, and just enough slight awkwardness to make it believable but still achingly sweet and heartwarming. The fic as a whole is exactly that: heartwarming and hopeful, and exactly the sort of thing with which to wrap up an old year and start the new.

“Stop,” Charles did his best to roll his eyes, even if the dimples next to the corners of his lips betrayed him. He let Pierre’s laugh die down before speaking, nudging at his legs back. “Say my name.” He didn’t have to ask twice, Pierre’s fingers reaching out to tug at the neckline of his jumper the same way Charles had done himself when they were standing against the railing, smile firmly in place. “Charles.” “See?” He raised one hand, wrapping it around Pierre’s wrist softly, keeping the touch there even when he felt like shaking. It wasn’t like he couldn’t blame it on the cold. “You have an accent, too. Way prettier.” Pierre was already shaking his head before he finished speaking, making a small noise of disagreement. “No,” he said, tugging at Charles’ jumper again. They were too close, Charles realised, speaking right up into the other’s space. “Say my name.” He didn’t really mind. “Pierre.” The way Pierre looked at him made Charles want to squirm, even if they weren’t doing anything more than talking. He went all in, was the thing, thoughts so clearly stroked in every inch of his face Charles found it hard not to believe them. “Beautiful.”

firebug by @grandprix-ao3 | T | 5.9k Charles is a popular Twitch streamer. His boyfriend Pierre exists to his audience mostly off screen or at least, his face is never in frame. One day Pierre presents Charles with a pair of pink cat ear headphones. Charles's audience becomes fascinated by the mysterious boyfriend. This is just a cute, sweet, angst-free, low stakes established relationship fic that is having a lot of fun with the adorableness factor of Charles in cat ears and a boyfriend who adores him.

'“Jeez, Charlito,” Pierre says, hyperbolic in exasperation. He raises his eyebrows in a jitter, flicking the corner of the box with enough edge to his nails to make it pop. “I just think you are cute when you purr during your streams.” It’s awful how deftly Charles feels the heat rise in his cheeks. He almost wants to flatten his palms against them to hide the awful shade of pink he knows must be there, perhaps as red as the oversized headphones he already owns and wears for his streams, definitely not courtesy of Pierre, or anyone but himself, for that matter. “I am not—” he starts, cutting himself off with teeth in the back of his bottom lip. ‘I am not purring, I am making engine sounds,’ is probably not going to do anything but make Pierre laugh at him more, so he quits while he’s ahead. “You are so annoying,” he says, instead, like that’s somehow a defense. “I hate you. I am not wearing these stupid headphones.”'

an autumnal affair by @hourcat | T | 11.4k Pierre Gasly is to wed Charles' cousin to save the Leclerc name from disrespute. They fall in love. Pierre in this fic is perfect as a pride and prejudice-ish gentleman, rakish and lovely, and the chemistry between him and Charles is instant and undeniable - when reading it feels inevitable that these two belong together. Of course everything it is not so easy, the author puts you through many twists and although this has a happy ending the heartache a long the way is exquisite.

Once upon a time—a lifetime ago, practically—Pierre had told him that he was a good man. But that cannot be true, because the idea of having to watch his love and his cousin have a life together makes him both angry and horribly, terribly, unforgivably jealous. Charles should not have done this in the first place. Pierre had come to marry Giada, had come to pledge his life to her, and Charles had intervened. He knows he has no right to be upset. But he is. He is, and Pierre will never love him the way he wants to again, and he will never recover from this hole that’s ripped right through his heart. It’s all very simple, really. Charles curls up tighter in his sheets. Pierre will never love him again. A fresh round of tears swallows him entirely. It will be a long rest of his life if he has to watch them together on the estate.

jump then fall into me by @your-littlesecret | M | 13.6k Charles finds a lost puppy, and takes it to a local animal shelter, where he meets a very qualified (and very handsome) man. This story is adorable! I was literally giggling, kicking my feet and rolling around while I read it. I love how clueless Charles is, and how Pierre is immediately so very fond of him. And the puppy is adorable - I love her name!

He brings everything upstairs and once he’s put everything on a place he thinks will be okay, he lays on the floor with his stomach down and stares at his new family member. “What should I call you, huh?” There’s no answer, of course, only a lick to his nose before she goes back to the very important task of chewing on a toy Charles just bought.

nsfw: Imzadi by @effervescentdragon | E | 31k Star Trek AU. Pierre and Charles meet as children, when Charles is among the few survivors of a genocide. Pierre's mother serves in Starfleet, which is dispatched for the rescue effort. It's the beginning of a love that lasts a lifetime. It's not necessary to be familiar with Star Trek to enjoy this but if you are, this fic hews closely and lovingly to not only Star Trek canon, but the entire philosophy of the franchise. It was like a long catch up with an old friend. If you don't know Trek, or don't know it well, the Piarles-ness of the Piarles is note perfect. They are truly soulmates in every universe and this fic not only captures that, it is soaking in it. Possible CW for dubcon (of the sex pollen variety - which only increases the Trek-ness of this fic, considering where sex pollen started. It's actually very enthusiastic on both sides). I also love how Akira manages to make Charles's part-Betazoid empathic ability absolutely no help at all when it comes to Pierre.

"Charles? You're here?" The uncertainty in his voice is the final straw that pushes Charles to move and fall onto Pierre. He is mindful of all the tubes and needles and Pierre’s broken arm, but he needs to touch Pierre, needs to feel him, to know that he’s really here, and alive. His uninjured hand comes up and he tangles it into Charles’ hair, and the gesture is so familiar, it makes Charles cry. Pierre holds onto him until Charles cries himself out. It's Pierre who is hurt, though, and Charles feels stupid and selfish for being the one falling apart when his best friend had almost died. He pushes away, wiping his face as he sits back and grabs at Pierre’s hand, needing to feel him physically, because he can’t feel Pierre’s emotions at all. It’s like there is a void where his feelings used to be, and Charles opens his mouth to ask about it when Pierre beats him to the punch.

nsfw: sometimes I feel like a hostage by @wolfiemcwolferson | E | 36.2k Charles is a prince of Monaco, feeling stifled under the weight of a duty that he never asked for. Pierre is his bodyguard. Look, I just REALLY like the bodyguard trope, ok? This is a gorgeous example. Charles is inexperienced, Pierre is kind and a great protector, the secondary pairings are great (I squealed when one appeared kind of by stealth) and this just scratched a very particular itch for me. Tiredtiredsharl writes these two so well, in any situation.

'Charles starts to feel awkward again, this is so far outside of anything he’s ever known and it’s hard not to feel self conscious as he closes the door to this too big room with the too big bed, unsure of what he’s even needing. Pierre had said intimate. They were going to be intimate. Pierre pulls his coat off, standing beside the little half dresser thing and places it neatly on top. He hadn’t pulled a hat or gloves or a scarf out to wear so he’s now in one of those much too large sweaters that swallow him whole. Oh. Charles can take it off him. “Come here, Charles.” Pierre says, leaning against the dresser. Charles takes the three steps towards him. “Should this be sexier?” He hates that he just asked that question. Pierre doesn’t laugh though. He takes one of Charles' hands and pulls the glove off starting with the fingertips and working it off gently before he says, “There are no rules here. Sex between people who care about each other should be however the two of them wish it to be and it is special because they are together." Pierre is working the other glove off Charles' hand now. It’s so tender that Charles can admit, “I feel very dumb right now.” Pierre snorts. “And I feel very scared. So, we are even.”'

nsfw: have you brought back the light? by @wolfiemcwolferson | E | 36.7k Pierre is a superhero and Charles is his non-superpower boyfriend. A villain targets Charles and he gets sucked in to the multiverse where he gets stuck with a Pierre that isn't his. This fic might be a superhero fic at first glance but what I love most about it is the exploration of grief and trauma and the ways they appear in both universe. The storytelling in this is divine - the way the details of the relationship between Charles and Pierre in both universes is slowly revealed while Charles tries not lose hope that he will get rescued makes an emotional rollercoaster of the best kind.

"You know you’re an idiot .” Charles bites. “You have everything and you -” he wraps his arms around himself. “He moved out because he has feelings for you and you just let him go.” Pierre’s face goes carefully blank. Like that blankness that he leans on when he’s trying not to react to Charles specifically . “No.” “Yes,” Charles bites, and because he suddenly feels like a little soft animal with his belly exposed so he hits back. “You have Esteban and Anthoine and Charles wants you and you could have everything - ” “Charles -” he steps towards him, hand outstretched, “what do you mean?” “That you have everything and you’re wasting it.” Charles says again, even though it’s not an explanation. He doesn’t care that he isn’t offering him an explanation. He’s just angry that Pierre is giving it all away without trying. He’s on the verge of tears again, yanked back to two hours earlier as he gazed at the steeple of the auction house and imagined what it must be like to live in a world like this - with that awful little voice in the back of his head that was saying it doesn’t matter how much you hate it, that’s your home and those are your people and you don’t actually hate it at all. Charles would give anything to go home. He would give anything to stand in this apartment and fight with his Pierre. He would give anything to go and sit on the memorial bench. He would give anything to go home'

nsfw: you are perfection, my only direction (it's fire on fire) by @singsweetmelodies | E | 40k Charles and Pierre are dragonriders, each aligned with a different house. They are required to marry one another to prevent a war. This story is a perfect storm of arranged marriage, marriage of convenience and idiots in love. With DRAGONS. I'm not sure I need to say much else, but if you like high fantasy, handsome men, slow burn and some hot sex well this might just be the fic for you.

'“Don’t give me that look,” Charles groans, and he manages to roll his eyes, knocking his fist against Pierre’s chest. “You’re you! Anyone would want to have sex with you, don’t be stupid. Besides, maybe now I can finally see if you’re actually telling the truth in all your smug little stories about your bedroom escapades.” For a single moment, Pierre’s expression looks frozen, like that breathless instant right before a glass tips over and smashes. Then, Pierre smiles, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds almost cracked. “Right,” he says quietly. “Of course.” Before Charles can ask him what’s wrong, his smile changes. Brightens, and smooths into something real, something a lot more like Pierre’s usual smirk. “Oh, Charlito,” he purrs, and Charles blanches. He knows that tone of voice. It’s Pierre’s flirting tone of voice, which he doesn’t save for Charles, very often, but when he does, it’s always to make Charles blush. Sure enough, Pierre says now, in a voice so layered with suggestiveness that it should be illegal, or a new form of magic all on its own – “You haven’t even heard the half of it. You will be a happy man, married to me.”'

A Nymph's Heart by @espithewarlock | T | 46k In a world where magic and fey creatures are real, Charles is a violinist and Pierre is a water nymph, but they still manage to find each other and fall in love. The worldbuilding in this fic is just brilliant: rich and vivid and so immersive, it's like you're living every step of the journey with Charles. I adored the development of the relationship between Charles and Pierre: how they go from cautious acquaintances to a special friendship to lovers in the first part, and how they prove their love and trust for each other in the second, and get to enjoy a well-deserved happy ending in the third. Music also plays an integral role in this fic, and as a musician myself, that touched my heart and moved me in such a way that I will always have a soft spot for this fic.

'Pierre stepped directly in front of Charles and raised one of the flowers, tucking it behind his ear. “A gift for a gift,” he murmured, “for playing a song at my request I gift you a flower grown from my magic.” “Thank you,” Charles said automatically. The nymph’s fingers were cool and gentle as they brushed the top of his ear and secured the stem of the flower in place. A part of him wanted to close his eyes at the sensation, but he also wanted to hold onto every moment he had to study the nymph up close.'

nsfw: chassis by @hourcat | E | 50k Charles, an art teacher, has a one night stand with Pierre, a mechanic he meets in a nightclub. And that would have been that, had not Charles's car died soon after. In desperation, he contacts Pierre. Pierre is devastatingly attractive in this, all confidence and winking flirtatiousness. Charles never stood a chance. This fic has a perfect rom com vibe, with angst, miscommunication, sassy comic relief Yuki, mutual pining, a happy ending, and some hot car sex.

Charles huffs. “Stop calling me that,” he grits, and Pierre laughs again—louder, which clearly is just pushing his passenger’s buttons even more. “Why do you call my car a girl?” Oh, this is going to make him squirm. Pierre shrugs, pointedly not looking at Charles as he pretends to ponder his answer for a moment. “Well, I work with cars, yes? I fix them, I make them run, I get them purring again.” The line of traffic in front of them slows up just enough for Pierre to make a point of turning to face Charles. “And if I am going to be so hands on, I should think it’s only right to treat them like a lady.” He winks. He turns back to the road. He barely swallows the laugh as Charles makes a choked sound at his not-so-subtle implication.

of mute swans and nests by steponthegaslys | ? | 82k Set at the Royal Ballet in London, Pierre is a talented and rising ballet dancer. The new arrival of another dancer, a generational talent, in the shape of Charles Leclerc brings along additional drama, and not just because of their building attraction. (N.B. This fic contains sensitive content - readers are advised to please mind the tags for this fic before reading). This fic is a fun take on the relationship between Pierre and Charles, told between rehearsals, dances, and revelations. The supporting characters (Alex, George, Max, Daniel) create a brilliant system around Pierre, add amazing humour and really help to tell the story too. Plus, Pierre and Charles as ballet dancers? What's not to love!

“You know,” said Pierre quietly, voice barely a whisper. “My friends don’t think you’re pretending. When you look at me on stage like you love me.”

[hotluncheddie]

... do you think that Steve would keep wearing his old clothes for as long as he could as he puts on weight, secretly enjoying the pinches of his waistband as it gets tighter, revelling in the little sharp reminders that he's getting bigger? 👀

i completely and utterly, totally so so so much think he would

i am obsessed with this anon, 👀 big time

this was going to be short but then while i love 'and they were roommates' it was also like, well, obviously, robin is there too...

and then i also had to include my actual baby girl steves blue henley

and then a safety pin to keep his jeans closed was just too good to pass up..

so, ya, have nearly 4k of belly and pining and confessions :3c

-

Every week, it takes Steve just a little bit longer to get dressed. 

He has to suck in a little more, feel his sides spill out of the waistband a little further and his belly is fighting harder and harder against the zipper of his jeans. Taking up more and more room. Until, one day, it's all going to burst. 

Steve cant wait. 

‘You’re really packing it on Harrington.’ He'll whisper to himself. Smoothing his hand down his shirt and feeling where his belly button is indented in the fabric. He’s started untucking them to try and hide how his jeans button is straining. But now his shirts are straining too. It won't be long until they can't contain him, letting a sliver of belly show no matter how much he pulls at them. 

Today he's wearing the blue henley that used to sit comfortably at his hips, a loose layer over a t-shirt. But, now it sits snug and taught, his wider shoulders filling it up, lower band snapped against the underside of his growing spare tire. Still just reaching his jeans though, thankfully, and covering how his white t-shirt does not - slipping up to his navel with the slightest of moments. 'Really let yourself go.' he mumbles, gut stirring with heat, twisting to look at his ass and belly from the side, liking they way they both jiggle just little now when he moves. 

Then he goes and makes breakfast. 

He's been on a cereal kick lately, keeps craving the sweet and sugary whole milk at the end of the bowl. He usually has some to go with his toast and eggs. 

He says good morning to Eddie, who just grunts at him, like normal, and reaches for the box on the top shelf. 

'...Steve.' Eddie says, slowly, coffee mustn't have kicked in yet. 

Steve is focused on pouring his cereal. What?' He asks. 

'Steve.' Comes Eddie again, clearer now. 

Eddie.' Steve finally looks over, Eddies eyes wide. 

Eddie gestures to his own midsection 'you, your.' He mumbles, circling the whole area, his lean stomach and hips.

'The shirt looks good on you Ed's I dunno what you want.’

Eddie coughs 'I can see your, like, everything.' 

Steve looks down at himself, his stretching had pulled the henley up, belly and sides keeping it up. 'Oh.'  He says, pale skin and dark hair on display. The stretch marks at his hips can be seen too, pooling over the waistband. His cheeks go as pink as those new lines. He really has packed it on. 

'Thanks man.' He says, trying to keep his voice level. He readjusts his shirt, pulls at his jeans that don't budge, shivers.

He has two bowls of cereal with his toast and eggs that morning. Eddie excusing himself quickly as Steve chugged the last of the sweetened milk. 

Leaving Steve alone to pat his stomach and settle the food there, dig the heel of his hand into his crotch and simmer over the mix of feeling he has for the whole situation. 

He'll deal with that properly later though, after work, he doesn't want to go through re-buttoning his jeans again just yet. 

-

A few weeks later Steve takes so long to get dressed he almost doesn't have time for breakfast. 

Or breakfast with Eddie as it's seemed to have become. Eddie always staying at the table even after he finishes his second cup of coffee, waiting and watching as Steve makes and eats his meal. Sometimes pushing to near fullness if there's time, sometimes still bloated and sluggish from the night before. (He sneaks snacks home sometimes, to have after dinner, after everyone is in bed. Extra to pack on top of whatever he had that day, help him reach a fullness that makes sparks burst behind his eyes when he finally lets himself touch, lets himself sink and feel and finish all over his swollen gut.)

And Steve thinks, sometimes, that Eddie stays through his breakfast so he can watch. Thinks he waits for Steve to have his fill, maybe enjoys their time together in a similar way Steve does. Always gravitating towards Eddies company, harbouring what he has accepted is a massive crush on the man. 

Steve really hopes he not reading Eddie wrong. 

He mentions it to Robin, who always leaves the apartment before the both of them. Mentions how Eddie looks at him, stares, his gaze lingering and roaming over the parts of Steve that are changing. Steve’s cheeks pink, mumbling his way though a half explanation that he wants Eddie to look. That he likes how his body has changed. 

Robin says she'll keep an eye out, do some ‘research’, but only if he promises to keep her out of whatever weird sex shit it might involve. 

Steves cheeks heat further, nervous - what if he is wrong and Eddie thinks it’s weird too, doesn't like it. Doesn't actually like Steve or what he's chosen to do to himself. Maybe Steve is the real freak in all this. 

But Robin hugs him, called him a dingus in that way that sounds like I love you. Corrects and soothes - that she's not judging, doesn't think he's weird, and Eddie would never judge him either. 

Even if Steve is wrong about how Eddie looks at him, he'd never stop being Steves friend, she knows that much for sure. 

She's right, he guesses. And it’s his body, his life, it shouldn’t matter how he looks. He just never wants to loose them… 

And then he's forced to face it all head on. Test the waters - see Eddies reaction to a situation that solidly fits into the realm of what Steve’s discovered he’s into. The weird sex shit as Robin artfully put it. (Eddies opinion on it all still very much up for debate, even after Robin watched Eddie watch Steve eat a whole large cheese pizza to himself - she said she couldn't tell if he was impressed in a bro way or a gay way.)

But, Steve takes so long to get dressed that morning because no amount of sucking in, or laying down or pulling up then pulling down, will put his button through the hole. 

His pants won't do up. 

He gets the zipper half way, and his shirt is long enough to hide the worst of it, but he needs a safety pin, if he's going to get to work and look half way presentable.

'Eddie?' He calls, from right by his door. 

There's shuffling, the scrape of a chair. 'Yeah?' Eddie asks.

'Uh, I have good news and bad news' Steve shouts, not really sure what to say. 

'Okay...' Eddie says, slowly, closer now. Right by Steves door. 'Whats the bad news?' 

Steve swallows, bites his lip. 'I ah, I need your help.' He settles on. 

There's a pause, Steves heart hammers in his ears. 'Steve, what? Are you okay?’ Eddie says, confused. 'I'm coming in, okay?' And he pushes at the door before Steve can give an answer, pushes as he saying it, a tinge of stress to his voice. 

Steve is standing with his shirt up, staring at himself. Belly pushing the flaps of jeans apart, muffin top and stretch marks on display. He feels himself go red, palms sweating over how Eddie will react to this, to him. 

'Just, do-do you have a safety pin?' Steve stammers, embarrassed, but, he really needs one. 

Eddies eyes seem to be glued to his middle. 'I, yeah, yeah man.' He says and steps away, leaving the room, pulling his eyes away last. 

Steve sits down heavily on the bed, burying his red face in his hands and groaning.  

Eddie ambles back into the room, pin in hand. 'Here, sit back.' He says gently, kneeling between Steve thighs. god. 

Steve rests back on his palms and then drops onto his elbows once it becomes apparent that hands aren’t enough to give Eddie the access he needs. 

And then Eddie’s nimble fingers are pulling at his waistband, his warm skin brushing against the sensitive underside of Steve’s stomach. And Eddies eyes are soft, and kind. 

Steve has to bite his lip to stifle a noise, feeling it in his groin. embarrassed by the whole situation. 

That he likes it. 

That he likes it so much. 

He’s turned on by so much that’s going on right now. But it’s all too raw, and he feels so vulnerable under Eddie. Under the dream that he might like it too. Under the fear that he won’t, won’t like Steve because of this. Or, maybe worse, could relent and just like Steve in despite of it. 

And thankfully his jeans are so tight there’s no way of knowing that his cock is half hard as Eddie tugs lightly on the secured pin. And Steve aches because there’s a pillow crease on Eddies cheek and sleep still stuck to an eyelash and his t-shirt is worn and stretched and faded and Steve yearns. He likes Eddie so much, has done for so long. 

But he ate himself out of his jeans. Did it every morning with Eddie’s eyes on him and he still doesn’t know that it means. Doesn't know what to say. What to do. 

And Eddies eyes are soft, all of him so kind. 

‘And the good news?' Eddie asks, looking up again at Steve finally. 

Steve makes a noice, confused. He's feeling foggy and strung out and he wishes so bad he didn’t have to work, could just burrow under his covers and hide instead. 

‘You said there was good news and bad news, what’s the good news?’ Eddie smiles up at him. He’s so pretty in the morning, all day. Always. 

'You uh, just, won't need to sit through me eating breakfast this morning.' Steve says, huffing but it doesn't really feel funny. He feels exposed and too hot. But maybe it is funny, in fact, that he also feels really really hungry. 

And Eddie’s eyes widen slightly in shock, his cheeks dusting pretty pink. 'I uh, really like having breakfast with you dude, don't uh, you skipping? Thats not good news.' And his hand is on Steve’s knee, big brown eyes looking up at him. 

Steve bites his lip again, mouth morphing into a small shy smile he can’t stifle. He nods. 

He goes and makes breakfast. 

-

Steve gets new jeans and keeps eating while Eddie watches. They haven't said anything but sometimes Eddie refills Steves cereal bowl unprompted, sometimes he sits with Steve and Robin at dinner too. 

The next time Steve eats a whole cheese pizza to himself while Robin and Eddie are present they’re all high but Robin is now positive that he’s impressed in a gay way. ‘A very, very gay way Steve. I saw that pillow move into his lap, shoot your shot bud, weird sex shit and all.’ 

And Steve is growing impatient, the tension and subtext sending him a little insane. He just, he needs to know. If Eddie could like him back, if their friendship can survive Eddie not reciprocating. If Steve can keep exploring this part of himself - but with someone. If he can have everything he ever dreamed of, maybe, with Eddie. 

Steve needs to know, so one Saturday, he goes out and he buys breakfast…

It’s a few months later and Eddie notices that Steve recently upgraded his shirts, again. Now they sit looser, flowing down and following out over the crest of his belly. Eddie thinks they're the same jeans though, that Steve bought at the end of that day, the day with the safety pin. The first time he got to touch. 

He then spent the day thinking about how he actually feels about Steve. Half freaking out, half feeling like everything finally made sense. Too scared to act on what he realised were real feelings, a real crush. He thought about it, at least. 

And now that Eddie’s thought about it, come to some conclusions for himself. He notices more. Like how he notices that, now, after what is arguable a pretty short amount of time, Eddie can see that these jeans are tight too. Straining, restricting Steves movements slightly as they fight against his thicker thighs. He notices Steve wearing sweats a lot more, or just not changing out of his pyjama pants, if he's home from work. The drawstrings on them never pulled tight. The seams of them though, along his thighs and over his ass. Those are pulled tight. Pulled to bursting. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

They still have breakfast together every morning. Steve upgrading to a cheese and egg omelette, toast, and a bigger bowl of cereal in the mornings now. Eddie still sticking to two cups of coffee and wandering eyes. Allowing himself to join Steve and Robin for dinner when he can, when schedules match up. Its fun, ordering pizza and watching movies, but Eddie has had to get skilful with their pillows, subtle as he pulls them onto his lap. Due to Steve now being in the habit of finishing large cheese pizzas all to himself. In his tightening pyjama pants, lips shiny with grease. 

Eddie kind of feels like a freak, noticing these things about Steve. But, it’s Steve. And maybe he’s reading it all wrong, but he thinks Steve maybe likes what Eddie likes. Thinks maybe they might be more similar than he ever thought. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do. But something’s gotta give. 

It’s Saturday when it all comes to a head, Steve comes home with breakfast for them both, jeans criminally tight and slung low like most things he owns, allowing his belly and soft love handles to sit above, to breathe. His t-shirt is one of the older ones, criminally, obscenely tight, highlighting his curves and width and softness. But still long enough for him to be covered fully, fabric tight but covering the jeans waistband fully. 

Surely Steve won't hate him for it, that Eddie is a little breathless over the sight of him, not once Eddie explains. Explains that it's all of it, all of him. That it’s always just been Steve, with or without the weight. 

Robin's away visiting her parents and Eddie said yes to an egg and cheese bagel. Steve sets the contents of the brown bag out on the table, bagel and a hash brown for Eddie, large coffee. Two bagels and four hash browns, a side of sausage, an orange juice and coffee, for Steve. 

He also bought a dozen donuts, for some reason. 

Steve sits down heavily in the chair. A soft oof as he lays a hand on the side of his gut and reaches forward for his juice, chugging about half in one sweet go. 

Eddie smiles at him over the rim of his coffee, Steve blushing ever so slightly. Eyelashes casting shadows across his softer cheeks. 

‘Thanks Stevie, this is really nice.’ Eddie says, doesn’t say that it almost feels like a date. Could feel like a date. Something intimate about it being a quiet Saturday morning alone together. 

'Almost feels like a date.' Steve says, taking his first big bite of sausage. 

Eddie coughs. Steve’s blushing again. He shifts in his chair, but he has this set to his jaw, like he’s being brave, like it’s scary, but he’s being brave. 

Eddie puts his coffee down, picks up his sandwich and holds it out to Steve in cheers. ‘To our first date.’ He says, smiling, looking Steve in the eye. 

Steve laughs, sunshine and fizzy apple juice. He cheers’ Eddie’s sandwich with his own. 

Eddie can be brave too. 

They talk about work, and Robin, and Dustin back home. About when Eddie’s next thinking of visiting Wayne and how they still need to fix the lock in the bathroom door. Eddie makes his way slowly though his food, Steve is a little quicker but he has more. Big bites filling his cheeks and a dollop of sauce falling onto his shirt. Eddie smiles and hands him a napkin. Steve smiles back, licking his fingers clean and letting that hand migrate back to the side of his belly. Fingers rubbing and prodding lightly again. Eddie tries not to stare. 

‘I probably shouldn’t eat that.’ Steve says, motioning to his second bagel, crushing the hash brown bag in his fist. The last part of his breakfast. His belly noticeably a little bigger, a little fuller on his thighs. 

‘Why?’ Eddie asks, taken aback. 

Steve huffs, self deprecating. ‘I dunno if you’ve noticed Ed’s but, I’m getting kinda fat.’ He says, embarrassed sort of smile on his face. ‘Who’m I kidding, of course you noticed, you had to help me when I outgrew those jeans last month.’ He dips his head, hand rubbing over his face and then resting at the top of his stomach, smoothing over the dome, belly button outlined in the tight fabric. 

Eddie snaps his eyes away from the movement. ‘Steve.’ He says. ‘You, you look good.’ He swallows. ‘You look, really good. And I, I think if you wanna eat that bagel then, well then you should.’ Eddie stammers, but his voice is clear and strong, he feels fire in his eyes. 

Because it’s true, everything, all of it. 

Steve’s smile stretches, blooming across his face, blinding, beautiful. ‘Yeah?’ He asks softly, sweetly, with awe. 

‘Yeah, yes.’ Eddie says, nodding his head and leaving forward to nudge the bagel closer to Steve. He wants him to eat it, Eddie realises. ‘I, um, I want you to, to eat it.’ He says, clearing his throat but refusing to look away from the bright eyes before him. 

Steve breaks eye contact first, ducking his head and unwrapping the sandwich with his big, delicate fingers. Taking a bite and letting the grease run down his wrist. 

Steve swallows, licking it up, eyes back on Eddie. 

‘Fuck.’ he breaths. Fingers fiddling with his empty coffee cup.

He scoots his chair around, bringing it in close to where Steve sits. Needing to share space with him, feel his body heat. Aching to touch.

Steve keeps his eyes on Eddie as he moves, biting and chewing and swallowing his way through the bagel methodically. Like it’s a reflex, an extension of himself. 

Eddie reaches forward and wipes away a rogue smear of ketchup from Steve’s cheek with his thumb. Bringing it up to his own mouth and sucking it clean. It’s sweet, and tangy. 

‘I gotta, uh, show you something. A, a secret.’ Steve says. Last bit of bagel held still in his fingers. Eyes wide and a little crazed, voice tinged with fear or glee; Eddie’s not really sure. 

‘Okay?’ He asks, voice quieter than he means. Reverent. 

Steve shifts slightly and presses his fingers into the bottom most curve of softness. Lifting his belly up and out of the way. Revealing his button and fly to Eddie. 

Which is no longer able to fasten, instead held together by a safety pin. The same one as before, on that morning. 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie shivers. Looks back up at Steve in awe. ‘Can i kiss you?' He rasps, fingers falling onto Steve’s thigh as he leans forward. 

Steve gasps quietly and nods, resettling his belly on his thighs. Eddie leans in further, their lips connecting. stars exploding behind his eyes. The soft press more infinite than anything he’s ever felt before. Because, maybe, maybe because it’s Steve. It’s Steve’s lips he’s kissing. He digs his fingers into the meat of Steve’s legs. Grounding himself in the kiss so he doesn’t float away entirely. 

Eddie lick over the seam of Steve’s lips lightly but Steve pulls away with a small gasp. Hand covering Eddie’s as he pants. ‘Sorry. Getting full.’ He huffs, blush rinsing on his cheekbones again. He shoves the last bit of bagel in his mouth and slouches further in the chair. He looks round and soft as he takes a deeper breath of air. 

Eddie laughs, delighted and leans forward once more, knees knocking against Steve’s. ‘Can I?’ He asks, hand hovering over the warm side of belly that Steve’s been petting all morning. Eddie swallows thickly as his eyes flick from Steve’s face back down to his hand. 

Steve smiles, nods. The blush running down his neck. 

The first press of fingertips on warm skin is heaven. Eddie almost can’t believe it’s his hand doing it. Finally. Steve is so soft; pliant and arching under Eddie’s soft hold. 

He splays his palm over it, cupping it with both hands and marvelling at the width, the weight. 

Steve’s finger taps Eddie on the chin. He looks up, snapping his mouth shut. Steve smiling at him, eyes sleepy and relaxed and he looks so happy. 

‘What took us so long?' Steve sighs, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face. Arching up further into Eddie’s hands. 

'Was worried you'd think I was weird.' Eddie admits quietly, leaning forward to steal another soft kiss, hands rubbing small circles into the flesh beneath his hands, can feel Steve’s short breaths fanning over his face, his lips shiny with spit. 

Steve smiles, charming and biting and so so Steve. ‘You? Weird? Never.' He teases. 

‘Wanna be weird together?’ Eddie asks, licking over Steve’s lips, making them wet. 

‘How about uh, you pass me those donuts?' Steve motions with his head and spreads his legs wider in the chair. His hand dwarfing Eddie’s as he uses it up to lift his belly again. Grunting as he forces the safety pin open and tugs it from his jeans. 

Eddie lingers, enamoured, helping to hold Steve’s belly out of the way. Watching his sides spill wider once they’re released from the tight denim. 

Steve tosses the pin on the table and resettled his belly again. Looking pointedly at Eddie and lifting his chin again cheekily. 

Eddie places the box within reach. Steve plucking one from the lineup. 

Steve doesn’t say anything as he ploughs through the first. Only half way through the second does he pull Eddie’s hand more firmly onto his gut, urging him to move them again. 

‘Feels good.' Steve says around a mouthful, sighing. He’s eating them in two or three bites, already on his third. 'like, stretched but, grounded, maybe.' 

‘Oh, it’s, so, you do like it? The, the weight?' Eddie asks. 

'Mostly I just like eating. But, can't say the weight is anything bad... Just, it feels good, all of it.' Steve talks with his mouth full, sugary glaze stuck in the stubble on his upper lip. 

Eddie nods, cheeks slightly pink. He reaches over and picks up a donut, scooting closer so he’s between Steves spread thighs. The view of his belly a little more above, pale skin spilling out of his hiked up T-shirt. Spreading over his open fly. He has a stretch mark on his arm, on the inside, over his tricep. Eddie never notices it before. 

He holds the donut up to Steves mouth, he'd only have to lean forward slightly to take a bite. 'This okay?' Eddie rasps, hand shaking slightly. Steve looking up at him though his lashes. 

He rests a hand over Eddie’s own on his stomach again. Smoothing them down and then up, causing his shirt to lift more, sitting snug under his pecs. He dips forward, chair creaking, biting into the donut enough for Eddie to feel his fingers brush Steves chin. His cheeks bulge as he chews, hand moving again.

‘More than okay Ed's, this is, it’s.' Steve can’t finish so Eddie shoves the rest of the donut into his mouth. He doesn't need him to explain, rationalise what he wants. 

He just wants Steve to feel good. 

Eddie reaches for another donut. 

-

WG Taglist (open): @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Reader

Part One | Part Three

With your Captain at the brink of death and little supplies left to keep you covered, the two of you do what little you can to hold out and distract yourselves until help arrives.

TW//: Blood, Mentions of Death

Angst, Drama, Romance, Action, Suspense, Tense, Near Death Experiences, Confessions of Love, Light Fluff, Confessions, Light Bickering, canon inaccuracies probably, but hopefully not, slight character study, medical inaccuracies, I'm no nurse, I'm a film major :(, a mopey rollercoaster, but the ending is worth it hopefully

Word Count: 4.2k

Took me a few days to ponder what I wanted to do with this (I'm so indecisive), but at last, I finished. I wanted it to be sad, I'm not sure if I succeeded, but I promise it's not pointlessly sad (probably isn't even sad). Also, let me know if I should follow this up with a Part 3 (which would be the final part of this, might do it any way but if this was actually garbage I will keep it pushin'). Regardless, I had fun typing this, I felt rusty typing something actually angsty. I hope you enjoy! ( ㄕཀ ʖ̯ ཀ)

taglist: @tapioca-marzipan @spooky-pomegranate

Thank you again, I hope it was worth the wait (T^T)>

Stay awake. You tell yourself again and again -- stay awake. Don't succumb to the fatigue, ignore the pain in your arm, and keep your foot on the gas. It's either that or you lose Price right here and now.

You look over at your Captain after five more minutes had passed, with nothing but the rocky road and its hills ahead of you to keep you company. Price kept his pistol in hand and his tired blue eyes on the perimeter outside the convoy. He didn't have much to say anymore; it was taking all his energy just not to bleed to death.

His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath he forcibly conjured out of himself. By now his blood stained his seat, growing larger with each hill you've passed. Your Captain would be an angel already had you not found more supplies in the vehicle to temporarily patch him up with. Though he seemed adamant about staying alive, nonetheless.

The night sky darkens, and the road ahead demonstrates its need to be endless. Price had told you before that he had no intention of bleeding to death. You desperately want to believe him.

Clouds roll over the moon, which for a while had shared its glow alongside the headlights of your recently stolen convoy. Its absence only makes you feel more boxed in, placed behind the wheel with your dying Captain. The outskirts of Urzikstan appear an even less welcoming place than before. With its encompassing darkness, your fears of what lie in them only grew, the longer you drove and yet to encounter your destination.

The hills now tower around your vehicle like walls, painted pitch black, becoming mountainous the further out you drive. Had you not seen the fallback zone around the corner, you would have thought yourself lost.

You park the convoy a short ways to the rear of the location: a small, rundown house long abandoned since all the fighting in the area re-escalated. The house was on the outskirts of some empty town not too far away that both AQ, the Russians, and the locals avoided, seeing as the next nearest town was where you just left, and anywhere beyond this point was under AQ and Russian control. It should be a safe place to lie low until your exit is available again.

Price made sure there were a few safe areas to fall back to, in case things went wrong during the mission. Which they most certainly did. You wouldn't even have needed to be here in the first place, had everything not continued to go wrong after acquiring the vehicle. Your bad luck has hopefully since ceased.

However, the night hadn't been over yet. That much had been proven true only a half hour ago.

In a matter of minutes after making your vehicular getaway, AQ had caught up to you, all in convoys, and armed to the teeth. Had Nikolai not been around the corner with his helicopter, you and Price would have surely been run off the road at some point, being as injured as you both are and with hardly any ammo left to spare.

You could only see in your rearview mirror the destruction Nikolai created behind you, the sky having lit up with the flames of your unwanted pursuers. It had almost been perfect, until shrapnel and gunfire damaged Nikolai's helicopter too much during that last-second rescue, forcing him to retreat.

You could still picture watching him fly away, seeing that shadowy monstrosity fly off into the sky, until the hills had swallowed it whole. Watching your only exit out of here fly off into the distance absolutely gutted you. The small sliver of hope you hadn't yet lost had all but gone away with him. Yet you knew it was the safest thing to do. Your LZ had been compromised, and it wouldn't have done any good if you all piled on just to get blasted out of the sky moments later.

So instead, a change of plans was made. Nikolai, being the resourceful individual he was, had other means of escape worked out. He just needed to get there first.

Knowing this, your new objective had been clear and simple for you both: Stay alive.

You park the convoy and shut the vehicle off, watching the headlights die and a chilling silence fall in the air. All you can really do is take a moment and breathe.

Your right arm -- still very much broken and in pain -- rested limply in your lap, begging for a sling. A throbbing headache has not left you since taking that RPG blast only an hour or so ago. With having to wait to be saved now, time felt as though an hourglass had just been rested on its side.

You peek back through your window, seeing the empty hills behind you. No one's been in pursuit since Nikolai's interference earlier. Hopefully, their absence meant you'd finally lost them. You felt you had run all out of hope tonight, yet it's all that felt real and obtainable anymore.

"It seems quiet enough," you start to unbuckle your seat belt. "It's probably safe to head inside now."

You wait for your Captain's reply, only to be met with silence.

"Price?"

You look over to find the Captain lying slumped against his seat, his eyes closed and as still as a statue. The sight makes your blood run cold and your heart quake with fear.

"...Price," you reach over and rest a hand on his shoulder, beginning to shake him. Praying that he'll wake up. "Price, stay with me, Captain. Come on, wake up."

You shake and shake him, but the man doesn't budge from his sudden unconsciousness, his body only moving along to the hold you had over his shoulder. At each little shove you make of him, your eyes further lock on the still features of his face, desperation filling you.

You've tried so hard to keep your composure tonight, if not for yourself then for him. You had wanted to return the favor for all the times he's helped you from the brink of death before. The many times Price has been your last glimmer of hope when you feared none was there to have. You wanted to be that for him now. To show him he needn't shoulder such things alone. He couldn't die now.

"Price, please-"

The Captain starts to cough himself out of whatever slumber he'd found himself in, his face grimacing with pain as he hugged his wounded side. "I'm good..." he claims. "...'ave we made it?"

You look at Price, frustrated at his cavalier attitude, despite having been so used to it before. Frankly, your emotions could not handle it at the moment, given the fact that only a second ago you could have sworn he'd just died.

"It's getting worse," you state.

"I'll be fine," he protests.

"Price," he can hear in your tone you're trying to be real with him now. "Just because you wanna act like it's nothing, doesn't mean that it is-"

"Last I checked, we've little time for us to fuck about right now, lieutenant."

"You just passed out."

Price opened his mouth, prepared to argue more, but pauses when he realizes that he can't really argue at all. He had passed out, and he wasn't so prideful to claim that it wouldn't happen again either. So he instead settles down, allowing you to take the reigns and go back to focusing on the important matters.

"...I know," he says. "I'm sorry... Are you holding up alright?"

"I'm doing better than you."

Then that's what matters most, Price had thought. "I don't doubt it," he says. "And here I was hopin' I'd go out in a more dignified fashion than this-"

"Stop it," you take his hand again, shutting down whatever pity talk he was beginning to spew. Not wanting it to worry you that he's gotten to this point. "Look, we're at the safehouse now. That should make not bleeding to death a hell of a lot easier."

"Or at least more comfortable," Price quips. Though your humorless expression only makes him digress. "There should be more supplies inside."

"Let's just get inside before you pass out again."

It's a struggle to get him inside, and twice as much a struggle to patch his wound up. Price had the place generously stocked with a resupply of weapons, ammo, and medkits, though it wouldn't be enough to change the current dilemma that your Captain was in.

Once your arm had been slung (DIY style), you immediately tended to Price. However, having to help stitch with your non-dominate hand was an absolute nightmare, as much as your Captain tried to take over for himself. His hands had grown too shaky to hold the needle, it would slip from his grasp every so often, and you hadn't wanted to see him grow more frustrated with the task.

Of course, watching you struggle to stitch only upset him more. You were mostly silent, though Price would see your throat move hesitantly, swallowing heavily at every sudden urge that came to you that wanted to cry. You hadn't wanted to in front of your Captain, you didn't want him to worry about you.

You wouldn't let any amount of hindrances stop you, you closed the wound, redressed it, and checked on it a second time before Price finally had to tell you it would hold. Though closed or not, it mattered little. He'd lost so much blood at this point that it was a miracle he wasn't dead already.

But miracles only last for so long.

In and out of consciousness, Price thought a lot about how silly it would be if he bled to death right now. In such a helpless state, forced to rely on his subordinate to keep him alive. Someone who had felt more than a subordinate, now more than ever. You've seen him blown out of the sky, near beaten to death, stabbed, shot, and then some.

Twenty years of all the shit he's been through in the force, and a gut wound from shrapnel is what takes him out. He almost found it funny.

Price has told himself his whole life he'd be ready when the time comes. He accepts death every day he wakes in the morning and steps out the door. It didn't mean he'd lay down and die, however, ironic now. One way or another, the man just always knew that when he went out it would be fighting. Because he's fought his whole life, it's all he knows how to do.

All he could ever ask for is to die doing what he loves, and this had been that. However, now that this love has brought him here beside you, giving him the fate he's all but manifested for himself, over years of growing pessimism and a longing to be dignified, suddenly, he finds it funny how life can be. Now all of a sudden he doesn't feel so ready to go. He thought he'd be more prepared.

And it's what's killing him most of all. This helplessness death has now brought him.

Had Price not gone ahead and made sure Nikolai stashed medical supplies in the safehouse in advance, he's certain he would be dead right now. Though as it's been said before, the night's not over yet.

"Lieutenant..." Price calls to you faintly.

You look over at the Captain, seeing him still seated beside you, his back resting against the living room wall. Though he still looked pale, cold sweat dotting his skin, and with labored breaths, at least he wasn't bleeding anymore. You did what you could with what was available, however, you were no field medic.

"What's up?" you reply, though your attention stays out the window, towards the dark perimeter outside the safehouse. By now these hills would haunt your dreams.

You remain posted by one of the front windows, your pistol clutched in your feeble hand. Since redressing Price's wound (and your own), you've been on watch; despite numerous failed (and delirious) attempts by your Captain to take watch himself. He was as adamant to see you in better health as you were to him.

As far as you're concerned, you're the one who's in the best shape here, broken arm or not. Beyond the exhaustion, you still had all of yourself with you. That alone made you obligated to be the one that gets you both out of this mess.

However, this is the clearest the man's ever felt, and something else had been on Price's mind. A thought which crossed him, after some realization came, somewhere between silences.

Price asks you faintly "...Will you talk to me?"

You look at your Captain now, perturbed. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothin' beyond the obvious, love," Price shakes his head, before bringing a weak hand up to clear his hoarse throat. "Just tryin' not to livin' the night up by passin' out and fallin' into a coma," he admits.

Fair enough.

"OK..." You turn back to the perimeter, running a million possible icebreakers that you could say right now. It's hard to settle for just one. "Where are we going out to eat after this?"

Price chuckles to himself. "Somewhere with good steak and Guinness would suit me," he jokes.

"Can it be somewhere fancy?" you ask. "I'd love to dress up."

"Mm," Price hums.

You've dressed up a few times before whenever the team went out and there was time. He's always liked how you always kept up appearances, and that it wasn't for any other reason than the fact that you just enjoyed doing so. Evidently, Price has had passing memories of a few choice outfits you've worn, many he wished to see again.

"You've any outfits in mind?" He asks you, wanting you to paint a picture for him. Give him something nice to think about.

You think to yourself for a moment, your ponderous hum filling the silence. "A dress," you state, thinking out loud and conjuring it as you speak, as Price hums with affirmation to each suggestion. "I'm thinking something skin tight... low cut with strings and spaghetti straps. Oh! And with one of those little leg slit things too! And heels."

"That's quite a detailed description," Price teases.

You've had a lot of time to think about it, though you'd never admit that. "Does it sound nice though?"

Had you two been having this conversation elsewhere, Price's mind would have undoubtedly gone somewhere vulgar, only picturing how that dress might look bunched up at your ankles or pushed up in a messy bundle around your waist. He's sure that was your intent when describing it as well.

However, with his mind repeatedly giving way to the black throughout this conversation now, his body gone from numb to feeling light as a feather, all he could picture of you in that dress was the smile you'd have for him instead, with a cluster full of joy shining in your eyes. How happy you would be just to be beside him, just as you are now. In these brief moments where your mind has been taken away from reality.

Does it sound nice, you ask him. You could narrate his dying breath, and the man would have thought it a beautiful thing, having been your words he last could hear before the world finally takes him.

"It sounds lovely," he says.

You swallow, your brave front cracking ever so slightly at his honesty. For some reason, it felt as though gravity just came back to you. You hadn't noticed its absence until now.

"Which is exactly why we're gonna get out of here," you reassure yourself. "So I can model it for you in person, yeah?"

"Exactly why..."

It had been nice talking about something else. Seeing you smiling again had warmed the grown man's heart as greatly as any time before. Price had been itching to see it one more time.

No doubt, he hadn't forgotten about his promise to take you out to dinner once you've both returned. Thinking about it now, at the brink of death without you even knowing... it's a sweet thought, nonetheless.

"I've no idea why you even bother with me..." he says suddenly, his mind fading so much he can hardly hear the words which leave him when they do. However, it had been a growing thought all night.

He's never understood your fondness for him. Price knew he could be hot shit, and he's earned respect from countless of his peers and subordinates alike, but it wasn't because he had been special, he always thought. He saw himself as no different than anyone else on his team choosing to do the same mission.

And surely he was a sorry excuse of a man for putting you through such a thing as this, tonight.

However, the scoff you let out after he says this would suggest you beg to differ.

"Are you kidding?" You say, keeping your gaze out the window, though even from there, Price could see the sudden pride fire up in your eyes. "You're like the greatest guy I know, Captain."

Price chuckles. "...I appreciate that"

"I mean it too," you continue. "We wouldn't be 141 without you. You're smart, you're resourceful, you're kind, but you get shit done too. Not to mention you're a total hunk. You're literally the entire package."

Yeah, you thought, Price is the whole package. There wasn't a man around that you trusted more than your Captain, nor was there anyone you ever wanted respect and companionship from more than his.

You still remember the first time you ever met Price. Laswell practically had to fight the man just to let you onto the team, having doubted your capabilities at the time. And in turn, you were doubtful of him as well.

You'd heard the stories of him back even during your SAS days, talking to the man in short, and tuning him out whenever he grew too overbearing during training. You wanted to say you weren't impressed with him, but even then you could see he wasn't just all talk. So the respect had been begrudgingly earned, to start with.

It wasn't until after a few high-tense missions with him that you finally started to get along. You both may bicker and avoid one another on base, but on the field you two worked together like fire and lightning, perfectly complimenting each other.

Price always was fair and reasonable, giving no doubt to his abilities as a leader. His confidence always felt reassuring in the most stressful of operations. While he could be a hard-ass, he was equally proud and gave praise whenever credit was due. Eventually, you started to crave it.

Price always liked how you listened to him, trusting his judgment and taking his advice. He's seen you grow and learn, watching you bleed for your comrades and step into the fire ready, just as he does, and that alone had been respectable to him. You had been so happy to have it too.

The hostility simmered into being cordial, before becoming neutral, and then casual. Your talks warmed, as did your times together. After a while, Price had been as synonymous to you as home ever could be. With all you two have been through, and all the times he's helped you since knowing him, you owe it to him to be his support this time.

"Whenever I'm around you I..." You speak again, but pause shortly, trying to think of the right words to say. "I feel safe," you say. "Like everything's going to be OK, and that soon it'll all be over. Because you're here. I mean, when you pulled me out from that rubble and I saw that you were OK, I just..."

It had felt wrong to ever even have had any doubts then. Because of course Price had been fine, it was Price. That's just who he was.

"I don't think I've ever met a man I've felt so safe around before in my entire life," you say. "Even now-"

You look over, only to be greeted by your Captain lying slouched against the wall, his eyes closed and completely still. Irresponsive. Your smile drops, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

"Captain?"

No response.

You immediately rush to his side and check for a pulse on his neck, your heart shattering when you couldn't find it.

"Price?" Your voice is practically at a whisper now, unable to use your vocal cords to full use, from fear of your voice breaking apart altogether. You place your hand on the side of his face, his skin so cold it makes you shiver, feeling your lip start to quiver and your vision blur with hot tears.

Even now, a small part of you was simply waiting to see him open his eyes again. Expecting him to shrug this off like he does with everything else so easily.

The whole time you sat kneeled in front of your Captain, you kept questioning how you could have let this happen, scolding yourself for this catastrophe. So many emotions flooded within you at one moment, you almost felt unable to process. You wanted to throw up, it was so much. It instead halts you there like a statue, your face frozen blank.

Your grievances are interrupted upon hearing a vehicle approaching outside. Suddenly, you really take in the fact that you're by yourself now. Your heart races, your hands starting to shake and your breathing growing quick. You were on your own.

You press your back against the wall, keeping your pistol close to you. You watch the headlights from outside pool through the window, illuminating the living room and remaining there.

The comms were beside Price; Nikolai would surely notify you if it was him outside. AQ couldn't have found you so soon, could they have?

With a broken arm and your own intuition left, you close your eyes and rest your head back against the wall, repeating to yourself at a whisper, "Please be Nik. Please be Nik. Please be Nik..."

Your comms buzz. "Price, Price, come in," Nikolai radios in. "Help has arrived!"

You let out a broken exhale. For the first time all night, you actually felt some real relief. Though, it was quickly drowned out once you looked back over towards your Captain, still lying there. Only a few minutes shy of being able to know you both would have been rescued tonight.

You reach around Price to grab the comms and radio back in to Nikolai. "Give me a minute, Nik."

You set the comms down, kneeling back in front of your Captain, tears burning in your eyes, your chest on fire.

Seeing him like this had felt so surreal. So unfitting. So unfair.

"Oh John…" You bring your hand down to Price's, holding tightly as his large fingers sat limp in your grasp. Cold and bloodied. You couldn't bring yourself to part from him now. "…I'm so sorry."

Price's hand suddenly twitches in your palm, making you gasp rather meekly. You watch him slowly pry his heavy eyelids open, and he reciprocates the hold you have over his hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Letting you know he was alive.

"… I'm right here," Price breathes out. "I'm here…"

Your gasp is broken with both relief and joy, a smile growing on your face and tears streaming down your cheeks. He was alive after all. Of course he was. This is your Captain. This is who John is; forever the class act.

A ping of frustration then hits you, bringing you to shove your Captain suddenly.

"Easy now," he says sarcastically.

"Don’t ever do that again!" you yell at him. "You scared me half to death, you asshole!"

Price raises an eyebrow at your outburst. He then sighs to himself, looking ahead of himself. Content.

"Ah, well…" He retakes your hand again, holding it in his lap for a spell, letting his thumb caress your skin, as he thinks slowly to himself. His breath is as broken as his hand feels in yours, with so much on his mind still left to say. He wouldn't miss these chances no longer. "I love you too."

You open your mouth to speak but then pause. Did he just say that to you? He loves you. Your heart jumped for joy. You didn't lose him after all.

You no longer cared if you looked weak, or unprofessional, or even too emotional, the tears come out and everything you'd been keeping bottled releases into broken sobs, and it feels so good to let them out. You lean into your Captain, burying your head into his chest to cry, which springs a pained "oof" from him in return.

"I'm sorry, Captain," you sit up and wipe the tears from your eyes. "I'm sorry... I really thought I lost you."

"I'm not goin' nowhere," he says. "We've still got that dinner later."

A big, giddy smile paints your face, and then, with a lifetime of moments worth of waiting and build-up to help guide you, you lean forward and let your lips come to Price's. Just in case. You didn't want to take any more chances.

You kiss Price softly, tasting the blood on his tongue and feeling the sting of his beard against your face. He could have been covered in mud for all you cared. You pull your lips away quickly, not having wanted to take up too much time. However, Price chases your lips as you part, finding your mouth again and kissing you back just as longingly. He finally lets himself celebrate the end of this night and the start of tomorrow.

( ´•̥̥̥o•̥̥̥`)♡(˘̩̩̩̩̩̩ ⌂ ˘̩̩̩̩̩̩) part three

[arpmemething2]

Agent Carter quotes

Send one for my muse’s response.  Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

"She's a cute broad. When she's not punching me in the face. Who is she?"

"I think you're a man out for his own gain no matter who you're charging."

"How refreshing to meet someone who appreciates the finer things."

"Then we may get hurt, there'll be a spray of bullets."

"Does anyone else feel a chill going up their knickers?"

"I used to strap a chair to my ass and take long walks around the neighborhood, too."

"Your line of work requires support. People who care about your well-being, who'll be there to stitch up your wounds."

"He can be thoughtless. Inconsiderate. Vain. Childish. Unreliable. Arrogant."

"Because unless I have your reports, your coffee, or your lunch, I am invisible."

"It's so hard getting straight answers out of people nowadays. Whatever happened to a nice cup of tea and a civilized interrogation?"

"Promise you'll get the son of a bitch who did this. Say it!"

"You were trying to do something good, and I believe you accomplished it."

"Well, that was a bit premature."

"What? I hate small spaces. What if the chain snaps and I fall to my death?"

"I was angry. That doesn't mean I want you to die."

"You have one chip to trade on, fear, and fear is the one tool that little girls who grow up handcuffed to their beds learn. I however am not afraid of you."

"I'd rather be the cowboy."

"To you, I’m a stray kitten left on your doorstep to be protected. The secretary turned damsel in distress. The girl on the pedestal, transformed into some daft whore."

"And I suppose the confession portrays me as what? A patsy? A doe-eyed idiot succumbed to the charms of America’s mustachioed Casanova?"

"The necklace is equipped with a tracking device so that I can monitor your location at all times. And if you attempt to move the beacon or break even one link in the chain, you will be injected with a neurotoxin which will kill you in 35 excruciatingly painful seconds."

"I wonder if I might request a sick day."

"I'm not here to make you talk. I'm here to make you sing."

"I imagine strange women traipsing through the property isn't a completely unusual occurrence."

"If I allow people to get close to me, I'm putting them in danger."

"How would you feel if we smashed that mirror with this table?"

"Darling, you have no idea."

"Never speak again."

"Get the drop on them?" You've been in custody all of an hour, and you're Jimmy Cagney."

"Am I being fired?"

"Keep your eyes open."

"I like it. I don't think the audience is ready yet."

"You weren't really going to shoot me, were you?"

"Stop wahooing and help!"

"I know my value."

"All of my inventions are in your lab."

"Darling, you have no idea."

"But they're ready for a movie based on a comic book. Sounds like a dreadful idea."

"For all I know, you did steal your inventions."

"Comfortable back there?"

"Just another day at the office."

"I figured you'd never have a problem finding a man."

"My land lady gave me an idea."

"What kind of thing is that? The alphabet? I can teach you. Let's start with words beginning with "A"

"And one more thing... tip generously."

"Now, I go to work."

"Technically, we don't even know if it works. But, let's face it. I invented it. So, it works."

"You were happy out here, and then I came and mucked up your whole life."

"Maybe I was just fooling myself."

"Then why is your mustache so sad?"

"I'm just considering all the angles. It seems you have a lot of them."

"I, however, am not afraid of you."

"I could do with a hobby."

"In polite society, one telephones ahead before trespassing."

"I understand you're not happy with your meal."

"So, I've got two foreign agents with no voice boxes fighting over a milk truck full of experimental implosives."

"I'm so sorry. Truly."

"I have a terrible idea!"

"You're new to espionage, aren't you?"

"We're still attached to a table."

[heyhilana]

Let Me Please You (Din Djarin)

Summary: A couple of weeks after your night with Din, you're feeling a little needy as you want to see if he's willing to have another lesson with you. But a confession leads to more tangling in the sheets and a new label to your partnership that you didn't see coming.

A/N: Hi! This is part two of Take it Slow since I loved how that turned out, and I couldn't leave it alone. I had fun writing this since this is a new take on Din as I've always envisioned him to be more dominant, and this is a take on a submissive din without it going too far for his first time. But nevertheless, this has been super fun to work on, and I hope you enjoy 💙

Pairing: helmetless!Din x !f reader (Reader is a little dominant but not overbearing).

Warnings: Choking, oral (f receiving), reader and Din switch here and there, Din also bares it all since he's in love so we get helmetless Din <3! but all in all, Din is in for the ride of his life and these lovebirds get their shit together LMAO

Word Count: 3.8K (look so much shorter omg)

Part one | Masterlist

“Din, where’s my datapad?” You were trying to do a quick inventory before you took off from Navarro, knowing that the next bounty was attempting to flee as fast as possible, as everyone wanted a piece of the high number of credits at stake.

“The last I saw it, it was in your cot.” Din called out as he was polishing his blaster, sitting on one of the boxes with his legs spread apart. You took a deep breath, seeing that same position that he was in back when you were visiting Boba and Fennec and when things in your arrangement together took a turn.

Although it had been two weeks, three days, and two hours since that passed, not that you were tracking it, of course, you weren’t sure what you guys were doing. Din cuddled with you that night before he turned over to sleep. He was sweet and even more attentive to you these past few days, striking up conversations that would usually fall on deaf ears as he was so focused on the job. But there was never a point where you guys brought that up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it. Hell, it was all that crossed your mind hourly because you wanted to know if there would be more or if this would be a thing of the past. But you didn’t want to share your curious thoughts if things would go awry, that maybe it would be too much to say, and he was not ready to talk about it. So you opted to avert your eyes and go to your cot, seeing that the datapad was where he said it was.

“It was here, Din. Thank you.” You were logging your credentials in and walking back over to the storage area to continue your inventory.

“Anytime, cyari'ka.” That low voice coming from the modulator made your knees buckle slightly. You hadn’t heard that since that night, and hearing it in passing talks would surely make your brain mush. You tapped away with logging the numbers in, noting that when you arrived at your destination, you would have to get more supplies after the bounty was caught. Din finished polishing his blaster and got up to walk over to you.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” His voice rang through your ears, a slight lump in your throat growing as he stood over you, his stature giving you reason to lust over him.

“About that night?” You put the datapad down, giving him your full attention. 

“Yes. I enjoyed it, but-“ You shushed Din before he could continue, letting your fears get the best of you. 

“We can put it in the past if you want. It won’t interfere with our partnership and we can go back to the way we were.” You were firm, but the waver in your voice at the end was undeniable.

“No, that’s not what I want. I enjoy…this,” Din used his hand to gesture between himself and you. “I enjoy talking to you, spending time, getting to know you better. I don’t want to lose that. A-And I want to do it again. It’s been all I’ve been able to focus on since it happened, but only if you’re willing. I can put this in the past if you want to.” There was something about how his head bowed down to you, a simple gesture yet igniting a flame that had been burning in the pit of your stomach since that night. That flame gave you the courage to grab his hands and lead you to your cot, your core beginning to ache with desire. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that again with you since it ended the first time, but I wanted it to be on your time.” You let go of his hands and sat down on the cot, moving back so that you could give him some room.

“Please. I need that…I need you.” He paused for a minute, the little confession sitting on the tip of his tongue, and once it was out in the air, your eyes widened. The man of few words expressed his need, his need of you, when before you never believed this would happen. But when you finally processed it and saw that he was getting into the cot with you, you began to spread your legs, moving his way up so that he was face to face with you, the t-visor giving you a slight glimmer of his cedar eyes that you enjoyed having on you.

“Such a good boy. Do you want to turn off the lights?” You were removing his armor as he had taught you how to do if he was injured, just getting the shoulder pads off as his hands moved up to his helmet.

“No. I want you to watch me and I need to watch you.” He was feverish now, the hiss from him taking off his helmet sending shivers down to your core. And once he was all in your gaze, tousled hair, pleading eyes, the way his plump lips were so close to yours now, and most of all, the way his hands were trailing down to take off the rest of his armor, meaning that you could touch, graze, learn all the pressure points that could make him a whimpering mess for you, you were a goner. 

“You want to be praised then, don’t you?” Your voice was dropping to one that commanded more attention as you unbuttoned your shirt, the exposed skin making his breath hitch as he pulled off his chest plate. “You need to be told how much of a good boy you are, how you can make me cum so long as you don’t stop. It’s one thing to get praised out there, but here, I think that’s how I’ll get to you.” You pulled off your shirt and threw it outside the cot just as he carefully placed his armor outside.

“What are you doing to me?” He reached his way back to you, lips gently grazing yours. You didn’t say anything, just kissing him finally, hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him close. He moaned into the kiss, his hands going around your waist to draw you in. You were biting his lip, and his hands went up your back to unclasp your upper garment. He successfully unclasped it, and you pulled away from him to free your arms from the garment, much to his adoration as he was eyeing you. You began kissing again as the garment was discarded somewhere else, and he started pulling at your pants.

“Need these off you,” Din mumbled against your lips. You lifted your hips for him to take them off you, and by his haste and roughness with taking off both your pants and undergarments, you knew Din was no longer nervous about doing this with you. 

Din knew he didn’t want to relinquish his desire for you. Inexperienced or not, once was not enough with you. There had to be more, as his hand was insufficient in quelling his newfound thoughts of you after the night you shared. When he would rub his thumb over the tip, he would think about how it would feel to swipe your tongue around it. The tight fist he would make would send his mind into a frenzy about how tight you had to be, a perfect fit. How he would explode on his lower belly would not be enough as he wanted to line your walls with his thick ropes of cum. Din needed you to replace his hand with your hand, mouth, and dripping pussy. He needed to find himself buried deep into your core while you milked him dry. Nothing would satisfy his hunger for you until he had you exactly where you were right now.

The cold air from the ship hit your core, but you fought against the urge to close up by spreading your legs apart. You were bare before him, and Din took his pants and undergarments off just as fast as he took off yours, earning a smile from you as you enjoyed seeing how turned on he was.

“There’s no rush. I’m all yours.” You reminded him, yet your stomach sank when you realized what you said at the end. You worried it was too much, too forward for only the second time you shared with him. But it didn’t faze Din at all. Instead, he kissed you again with more passion, shushing all your worries in a mere moment. Din moved away from your lips to your jaw, kissing your line until he reached the juncture of your jaw and neck, kissing down from there until he elicited a sharp gasp from you.

“Seems like I found your sweet spot.” He teased before sucking on your sweet spot.

“Shut up.” You moved your hands up to his hair, tugging at the loose curls at the nape of his neck. He bit your neck in response, which was a new sensation as you didn’t think a love bite would feel good.

Din lifted his head to look at you. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, it’s okay. It was new, but I liked it a lot, actually.” You admitted bashfully.

“Yeah? So I can kiss, suck, and bite all over your body then?” He asked, lowering his head again to kiss your collarbone.

“Yes,” You breathed out.

“Because you’re all mine.”

Din was not possessive with anything or anyone in the past, but knowing that he could mark you because it made you feel good turned him on more than he could admit to himself or you. It was a primal instinct that was not unlocked until you came along, finding himself longing to be around you as much as possible, to tangle himself in the cot with you. His mind was wired onto you, allowing himself to explore with you when he wouldn’t dare think about doing this with you before that night. But now, his cock was dripping with precum as he saw how pretty your skin looked with hickeys and love bites, the way your nipples were prominent, your stretch marks and scars that told stories that made you who you are, your hips dips and thighs that he wanted to touch, and, most importantly, your sweet core that was between your thighs that Din would not be able to get enough of once he was inside you. 

You parted your thighs for him to see your core, and Din’s eyes darkened when he saw what all his kissing, licking, and biting did to you. Your folds glistened with how wet you were, prompting Din to take a finger and slip it between them, gathering as much as he could of your wetness. You rolled your hips when his fingertip brushed against your clit, making you throb when he took his finger to his lips to taste you. You could see how your wetness coated the top of his finger, reminiscent of how your fingers looked when you thought of him. 

“I love the way you taste.” He said as he pulled his finger away from his lips and put it between your folds again. You moved your hand down to glide his finger up to your clit, moving it to rub circles on your spot. He watched, seeing what you wanted from him before taking over, allowing you to melt into his touch.

“Just like that, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” Your head moved back onto the cot as Din rubbed your clit faster.

“You’re so wet, cyar'ika. Gar're bid mesh'la guuror ibic.” Din muttered the last part to himself as he did think you were beautiful like this and in every way he saw you. A man with few words yet stayed keen on observing the world around him, you encompassed all his thoughts. From how you fought valiantly in battle, your relaxed state on the ship, to how you laid before him, his observations of you led to where you two were now, with Din wanting to observe, learn, care, and tend to you as he was now.

“D-Din, I need you to try something.” You moved your head up to look at him.

“What is it?” 

“I want you to watch me finger myself and then finger me.” 

Din nodded, and you laid your head back down, one hand moving south to your folds and your other hand moving north to touch your breast. You dipped your fingers between your folds and teased your hole, gathering your slick to push in comfortably. You could feel his eyes on you, and Din stripped as bare as you were as the clothes made him too hot. Once bare, he instinctively grabbed his dick to stroke while he watched you. You pushed your fingers in, inhaling a sharp breath while Din spat on the tip of his dick. As he rubbed the tip to tease himself, you pumped your fingers in and out, curling just enough to hit your sweet spot and letting out a moan deep in your belly.

“Feels good, mesh’la? Feels good to touch yourself and have me watch, knowing that I’m stroking to you.” Din leaned back, stroking faster, squeezing the tip to make him hiss while he thought about how you would squeeze around him.

“Yes, it does! I need you to do this to me, please.” You couldn’t help but switch between wanting to dominate him and submit to him, knowing that once he learned your body, it would be nothing short of you being a mess for him, but it also turned you on to know that you could take control and make him beg for you.

“Let me, baby. Please let me do it.” 

And there it was. The begging. Begging to touch you, feel you, submit to you. Din unlocked your deepest desires that you didn’t want to admit yourself, but they came out in the forefront when you heard the slightest whimper or begging from him. It was impossible to ignore, and your need to lean into it beginning to grow stronger. 

“You wanna replace my fingers with yours? Think you can make me cum from fingering me now?” You teased, pulling your fingers out to bring them to your lips. 

“I know I will.” Din’s confidence was growing, but you knew you had him right where you wanted him when you sucked on your soaked fingers, twirling your tongue around them to tease him. Din groaned, desperately wanting to know what it felt like to have your lips and tongue around the tip, shaft, and base. Those thoughts forced him to stop stroking as he almost came just as you pulled your fingers out. 

“Since you’re so sure of it,” You began, watching him lean down to put his face between your legs, two fingers pressed against your hole. “Make me cum right now.”

Din didn’t waste any time after you said those words, pushing his fingers in and licking a strip up the slit. By the first taste, he was hooked, gathering as much as he could of your wetness because you were sweet on his tongue. He got lost in your taste as he pumped his fingers slowly, feeling how his fingers were stretching you out. It felt amazing, but your hand gripped his hair to tug, gathering his attention.

“I need you to suck on my clit, baby.” You asked.

Din was quick to do so, and in turn, you rolled your hips as it sent sensations all through your body. Din never pulled away the more you fucked his face, letting his scuff get drenched because he wanted the constant reminder of what you both shared on his face, lips, hands and all over his throbbing cock.

But he couldn’t help but tease you for what you said earlier, prompting him to lift his head for a moment. “Still don’t think I can make you cum?” 

“N-no, I know you can.” You admitted, and that was all he needed to give you his all, to show you that he would stop at nothing to make you cum harder than before, repeatedly so. Din hummed as he knew he was proving himself to you, but he didn’t realize how much that would affect you when your legs began to shake. The fingering, sucking, licking, and now humming proved to be an insurmountable pleasure that left you teetering over the edge.

“D-Din, I’m really close.” You eked out, and before he could respond, you were coming undone before him. It was all too fast, surprising you yet bringing you eternal bliss as he fingered you through it. Din loved how your walls fluttered around him as if you were trying to keep them inside you so you could stay so full. And full you felt along with the way you felt you were floating on air, letting you stall your movements as you came down slowly.

Din waited until your breathing wasn’t as labored to pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips to taste. He sucked them clean, savoring everything as your cum was just as good as your wetness, if not better. But in Din’s mind, everything seemed to be better than the last as he explored more with you.

“You came back down to Navarro?” Din joked, and you sat up to playfully swat his hand.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not gonna let me live that down?” 

“Never.” Din replied, the smirk planted on his face making you shake your head.

“I’ll accept that, but I’ll give you something else that I can use against you.” You responded, and Din tilted his head.

“Like what?” He asked, and if there was ever a moment where curiosity killed the cat, it was now, as he had no clue what was in store for him.

“I’ll show you if you swap positions with me.” Your smile screamed innocence, but Din could see the playful aura in your eyes that let him know that whatever you had planned was beyond his imagination. 

“And to think I thought you were as innocent as I was.” Din admitted while switching positions with you. 

“Well you’re not so innocent as you claim to be, and I never said I didn’t have a few tricks up my sleeve.” You countered, and Din had nothing more to say once you straddled him, the feeling of his cock slipping in between your folds taking up all his thoughts.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” You teased, rolling your hips on his cock to make him suck in a breath.

“Should’ve known you would’ve teased me again.” Din was tensing up, not wanting to cum just from you rolling your hips.

You leaned down, your face hovering over this. “Oh, this is just the beginning.” 

You leaned back up to grab his cock, positioning it right at your hole before sinking down slowly, taking your sweet time in feeling every vein, curve, and stretch that proved to be beyond your fantasies.

“Mesh’la, you feel perfect.” Din’s eyes were screwed shut, trying to hold it together until he felt himself bottom out inside you.

“You feel so much better, I promise.” You rose up again just as slowly before coming down a little faster. It was hard to not go fast right away, wanting to give him time to adjust to this new feeling without pushing him, but so far. But he proved you wrong when his hands snaked up to your hips, wanting you to move up and down faster than before.

“Please, give me more. Ni copad an be gar.”

You placed your hands on his chest, getting enough stability to start bouncing up and down on his cock faster, finally giving in to both of your desires. The curve of his cock was perfect against the way you rolled your hips every now and then, igniting newfound pleasure that prompted him to thrust up into you. 

“Mhm, you’re so needy. So needy for me, and I love t-that.” 

You caught yourself. That damned phrase almost slipped from your lips if you didn’t recognize what you were doing. But thankfully, Din didn’t seem to notice that, with his eyes finally opened and more focused on how your breasts bounced with each thrust.

“I need every inch of you.”

Despite the pleasure coursing through him, his seriousness was undeniable, unmistakable. It allowed you the blissful ignorance to disregard your almost slip-up. It gave you the freedom to let your deepest desires unfold right before his eyes as your hand went right for his neck, squeezing gently as you sunk down onto him again. 

“Is this what you wanted? You want me to ride you and take complete control over you?” You cooed, and seeing how his eyes rolled back made you move your hips.

“Y-yes, cyar'ika, yes.” His voice quivered, drifting into whimpering territory.

“Was that a whimper?” You teased.

“N-No.” Din lied.

“Oh, that definitely was, and the one before that was one too. Which means that you’re close to cumming, aren’t you?” You tilted your head, and Din knew he couldn’t run from his impending orgasm for much more. But Din couldn’t speak as his sounds were whimpers and grunts as he lost control the more you rode him.

“That’s not good enough, baby. Answer me.” You squeezed again along with fluttering around his cock, the mix of pleasure making his thrusts less precise.

“Y-yes, I’m close.” Din answered. You moved your hand away from his throat to keep your balance.

“Good boy,” You leaned down to kiss him briefly before lifting up to go near his ear. “Now cum inside me, Din. Show me how badly you want to make me yours.”

Din thrusted one last time before he came. His grip on your hips became a vice, wanting every single drop to spill inside you. And while you wouldn’t say it out loud, you were irrevocably his long before today. The slow burn inside you burned for days, weeks, and months, even before that fruitful night and this night now. It stoked into an untamable flame for that night before suffusing into a wildfire, where you knew this was exactly where you wanted to be. 

And while this was risky, with all your calculations of this uncharted area between you two being unable to decide if this was worth it to nurture and explore, there was a moment shared between you two when you lifted your head. Your head rested on his, noses touching, labored breathing, skin to skin, and there was nothing more that you wanted than to have this. It felt perfect, feeling like home.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

Din broke the silence with a phrase that, although you couldn’t understand, you knew what he meant. It transcended the language barrier; you knew why he said it in Mando’a. It felt personal, real. You felt the courage rise in you as baring your heart on your sleeve didn’t seem as fearful as before.

“I love you too.” 

-

Translations

Cyar'ika - Darling, sweetheart

Mesh’la - Beautiful

Gar're bid mesh'la guuror ibic - You’re so pretty like this

Ni copad an be gar - I want all of you

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you

[j-nope-not-today]

Ok sooo…I know it’s not the holiday season but I’m in the mood for Christmas lol. Could you write a Bernard x Reader where reader is Cupid’s daughter or something (Like C.A. Cupid if you know her) but she’s really shy? Reader decides to join a legendary figures meeting with her father and she meets Bernard for the first time. Since reader is shy..Reader tends to be quiet and awkward and it’s hard for Bernard to talk to her but he’s determined to break her she’ll. They start bonding (and eventually breaks out of her shell) and getting closer every time there is a meeting? Bernard grows feelings and accidentally confesses his feelings then total panics and apologizes but Reader quickly pecks his lips bashfully??? Sorry that was a lot. You can change some stuff if you want lol. I know I used her/she and daughter but if you want to use non-binary pronouns then that’s just as cool. So sorry for bothering you and of course you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Have a good day/night ❤️

Cupid

A/n: Thanks so much for requesting! Sorry for the wait, but I hope you like this!

Bernard the elf x reader

Today was the day. The day I had been waiting for since forever. My dad was finally allowing me to attend a legendary figures meeting and I am absolutely ecstatic. My father is cupid and it’s honestly not as nice as it sounds. I was coddled and he was way overprotective of me. I wanted to be on the field. Helping people fall in love, because love is the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

 Something I yearned to help other people have since it would be a very long time until I could have something like that for myself. So for my dad to finally cave and let me attend a meeting I could finally prove that he could trust me and maybe I could even convince him to let me take his place so he could finally retire.

“Are you coming?” I jump at the sound of my father’s voice and finish rushing around my room. I grab my satchel of arrows and my bow and quickly make my way downstairs to where my father was.

“Okay. I’m ready!” I smile brightly up at him and he wraps an arm around my waist lifting me off of the ground. I sigh loudly

“When am I going to get wings of my own?” 

“When you're cupid. You can't have wings, until then you get to stay on the ground. Where you're safe.” I sigh again at his words. 

It was always the same thing. Always the same answer. Maybe today could be different? I spend the duration of the flight in my own thoughts. I was too busy trying to figure a way out to impress him that I was surprised to find when we landed at the north pole. 

“Oh wow..we’re here already? That was quick.” I follow behind my father and down a hall and into a room and I quickly survey the space. 

It was cozy. There were chairs and some of the legendary figures were already here..like oh my gosh was that mother nature!? I give her a small wave. I can’t believe it’s actually her! Though I quickly box up my excitement. There was time for that later there was no need to embarrass myself I needed to be professional. I stand next to my father or at least stay on the ground while he flies next to me. 

I watch the rest of the legendary figures enter the room and the last to enter was Santa. He looked exactly as I had pictured right down to the rosy cheeks. Behind him was who I assume must be an elf. His hair was curly and his outfit looked very..cheerful. Yes, cheerful is the word that fits and his bright smile helps add to it. Though his smile drops the instant we lock eyes and I shift uncomfortably under his stare. It’s hard to pay attention to what’s being discussed when I have eyes burning into my skull. I’m trying my best to tune him out but it’s hard. What in the world was happening? Did I have something on my face? 

“Hello.” I jump at the sound of a voice beside me and look to my side and my eyes are greeted with the sight of the same elf who had entered with Santa and spent half of the meeting staring at me.

“Uh..h-hi” I can barely get my words out. What is wrong with me? I’m so nervous. 

“I’m Bernard.” His words cut through my thoughts and I give a small smile.

“(y/n)” I respond quickly and turn back to the meeting. I pour all of my remaining attention into the meeting. Leaving no room for any conversation. Once the meeting is over I don’t want to. I convince my father to leave. No staying behind to chat. I don’t fully relax until I am in the comfort of my own room. Alone.

I throw myself onto my bed and sigh. Rubbing my hands down my face. What happened today? It was so weird! I’ve never felt so embarrassed and so nervous before. This was so unlike me. I sit up slowly and it’s then that I make a decision. There is no way I can go back. Not to any meeting ever. Not if he’s there. Though I don’t get much choice in the matter, because my father drags me with to the next one.

Yet again his eyes bore into me and I can just feel his stare. Why did he have to stare at me like that? I can feel the heat rising on my cheeks and yet again he comes to stand beside me. 

“Hello again (y/n).” I look over to see him smiling and I let out a small sigh.

“Hello..Bernard.” There was no reason to be so flustered or so nervous, but when he’s staring at me like that. It’s hard not to be. I need to focus on the meeting..

I turn to stare at the others and I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to look over at Bernard.

“Your cupid’s daughter right?” I nod at his words and his smile brightens.

“Is it a hard job?” I look at the others and they're all so busy it’s as if neither of us are even here. So I turn back to Bernard.

“I actually haven’t really been on the field, but from the stories I hear it can be.” His smile brightens at my answer and I can’t really place why.

“How come you haven’t been on the field?” wow..he seems genuinely interested. It would be rude not to answer, but also I don’t really want to talk with him. He made me feel weird. A weird I've never felt before. I chew my lip for a moment before I answer.

“My father hasn’t really allowed me to be on the field. I’ll get there someday.” 

“Wow..well I hope to be there when you do get there.”

“Uh..thanks…What do you do?” He never did tell me what his job was.

“Oh! I’m head elf.” His smile widens and he looks proud of his title. Though it sounds like a lot of responsibility.

“It sounds like you have a lot of responsibility.” He shrugs at my response and quickly speaks

“Yeah, but it has a lot of perks.”

“Like what?” I question.

“Well to start I never have to give bad news.” I smile at his words and it makes me laugh just a bit. I felt a little bad for the person he elected to give bad news. 

“That definitely sounds like a perk.” I laugh and before we can continue speaking the meeting is over. I watch him quickly leave with Santa. He was nicer than I thought..

That night I toss and turn. I keep thinking of him. I would like to talk more..he was kinda growing on me. To my delight I’m allowed to attend another meeting and it couldn’t come soon enough. I wasn't even excited that my father was trusting me more. I was excited that I could see Bernard again. So the moment he entered the room I made sure to give him a smile. He didn’t need to wait to talk to me.

“Hello Bernard!” I smile at him as he comes to stand next to me.

“Oh! Hello! You seem rather cheerful today..”

“I must be feeling a little bit of Christmas spirit.” He lets out a laugh at my words 

“Yes, I think that’s it.” 

We fall into a silence for a few minutes before he speaks

“Any cupid progress?”

“I’ve been allowed to attend a lot more meetings than usual.” He nods at this and plays with his hands before looking over at me again

“Is something wrong?” He looked..nervous?

“You have something in your hair, umm..do you want me to get it out?” 

“Uh..yes.” I watch as he brings his hand up to my hair and pulls out a small piece of tinsel from my hair and drops it to the ground before he brushes my hair out of my face.

“There you go.” He smiles at me and It’s like my heart skips a beat.

“T-thank you.” My cheeks heat up. I look at the ground before I notice that the room is empty.

“Where did everyone go?”

“Santa said something about showing them..I don’t really remember.” I turn to look at him and his cheeks have gone red and I give a small laugh.

“I didn’t even notice them leave.” He laughs at this before taking my hand.

“Would you like to see the workshop?” I nod ‘yes’ and he pulls me out of the small room. I can’t really focus on where we're going. Not with his hand in mine. His hand is warm and..my do our hands fit together perfectly. We stop and I look around at all the toys being made and all the elf’s busily moving around, working.

“This is beautiful! I didn’t think it took this much work to make the toys.” It really was a pretty sight to behold. I didn’t know the toy process was so complicated.

“Yeah. it really is something.” I was so in awe at the sight before me and Bernard let go of my hand from his and I quickly turned to look at him.

“Wait! Don’t let go..not yet.” I surprised myself at how quickly the words just poured out of me. I really didn’t want him to let go and I looked back at the working elf’s, embarrassed at my outburst. I felt him stand next to me and take my hand back into his and his voice was just barely audible, but he was so close I heard it.

“I like the way your hand fits in mine.” His words..they make my heart jump again. Why? They weren’t even that special..he was just being nice. 

As I hold his hand I take notice of the fact that he seems to be blushing. Though I can’t fathom why he would be. 

“What do you do for fun?” I look at him and he quickly smiles.

“I can show you..if you want?” I nod once more and he pulls me through the throng of working elf’s and straight out of the workshop. It’s cold and I quickly drop his hand and wrap my arms around myself, until he gives me a soft ‘sorry. Take this.’ and he places a coat onto my shoulder and I put it on. I look at the red of it and see that he had given me his sweater.

“Aren’t you cold?” 

“I’m an elf. I’m used to it. Now come on!” He waves me after him and I follow quickly. His sweater is warm..and it smells nice. It’s smells like peppermint, gingerbread, and pine needles. They go together. We come to a halt and he shows me some elf’s that are having a snowball fight.

“We have snowball fights, and drink hot cocoa and go caroling.” His smile is wide as he explains.

“Can you sing?” He laughs and grabs my hand and pulls me to a group of elves who are caroling and I sigh and he looks back at me

“But I want to hear you sing..” I give my best pout and he sighs once before letting go of my hand and turning to fully face me

“Oh alright..stop pouting.” He shuffles over to the rest of the group and they stop singing stands with them before he starts to sing loudly

“You better watch out! You better not cry!” The rest of the elves quickly join in and the sight is so cute. Seeing them all sing. Seeing him sing. Though our fun is interrupted once more by the fact that I need to leave. So I make my way to Bernard and give him his red sweater, but he pushes it back to me.

“Keep it.” 

“Okay..see you soon.”

“Yeah..see you soon” He gives me a sorta sad smile as if he wants me to stay and I quickly turn away and make my way to my father.

That night at dinner I decide to ask my father about the strange feeling I have. So during the lapse of quiet I stare at him from across the table and set down my fork and take a deep breath.

“I have a question..”

“Yes?” He looks up at me and I look down at my plate.

“I don’t know how to put it into words, but I have this feeling I can’t name..”

“Love perhaps?” I freeze up at his words..I never thought of that.

“I-well-it couldn’t-” I stutter out

“It’s love. I’m cupid, I can tell.” He gives a small laugh at my resistance to his statement. Though I know deep in my heart that that’s what it is. I don’t know how I would tell Bernard..What if he doesn’t feel the same?

I don’t get much planning time, because after a few days my father yet again drags me to another meeting. I’m nervous to see Bernard and yet I look for him eagerly. He comes to stand beside me like every other meeting and I catch my father give me a look. A ‘you need to say something’ look. I turn to look at Bernard and he smiles at me

“Hello again (y/n).”

“Hello Bernard” I take a deep breathe and I go to speak, but Bernard quickly fills the silence.

“I can’t take this anymore..I-I really have grown to like you (y/n) I would like to be with you..I want to hold your hand and go on cute dates and talk about everything together. I want to have your heart, because you have mine!” He rushes the words out as if if he doesn’t say them quick enough they won’t reach my ears. His face quickly grows red after he blurts out his confession and he grows panicked

“Oh gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-” I quickly cut him off as I lean up and place my lips onto his fleetingly.

My actions cut off his words and also his thought process. As he takes a moment to collect his thoughts and then he speaks, stunned

“You..kissed me?”

“Yes..” I watch as his stunned face slowly turns into a joyful one and an ear splitting smile overtakes his features.

“Wow..I-I don’t know what to say..”

“You don’t have to say anything..”

“You're right..” He smiles wider before stepping closer to me and placing his hands onto my face and he looks into my eyes..and finally..I know why my heart jumps in my chest and I know the question he has in his brown eyes and I nod ‘yes’ and as soon as I do he ever so gently connects his lips with mine. 

It’s a feeling unlike any other and a soft, warm, fuzzy feeling grows in my chest at the action. He slowly pulls away and my cheeks are obviously sporting a blush as well as his own. He drops his hands and looks around the room and I do too.

“Where has everyone gone?” I question as there is no one in the room and I look back at him.

“I don’t know..I didn’t see.” He replies sheepishly and I let out a small chuckle as our eyes meet once again.

“It’s okay. I didn’t see them leave either.” His smile matches my own.

“Any cupid progress?” He asks and I smile.

“In a way..yes.” I could wait to be cupid for a little while longer. For now I would enjoy this. This feeling. What I had for him was…what’s the word i’m looking for? Love..yes, that’s the word that fits.