#like from deep within his stomach 🥺

[willowser]

since i saw liv's post, i can't stop thinking about shouto being a giggly drunk 🥺 he says something so simply and you burst into a fit of laughter 🥺 and then he's just laughing bc you're laughing 🥺 like, tears in your eyes you're laughing so hard, leaning into his shoulder, and he's got the widest smile you've ever seen on him 🥺

[eddiesxangel]

Could this be Fate? | Alpha!Eddie x Omega!Reader

CW: omegaverse, alpha!eddie, omega!reader, f!reader, strangers to lovers, typical omegaverse lore, mention of assault but nothing specific (not on reader), breeding, mention of suppressants, biting, oral (f), p in v.

4.1K words

S/o to @lesservillain and @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with this one 🥺💜

As Eddie leisurely wandered through the grocery store, his mind drifting through thoughts of daily tasks and work deadlines, he was suddenly stopped by an alluring fragrance. The mouth-watering scent of warm cinnamon, rich coffee, and a hint of maple filled the air, wrapping around him like a cozy embrace and awakening a deep longing. Despite the rarity of fated mates, Eddie's heart fluttered with new hope as he was irresistibly drawn toward the captivating aroma, igniting an unspoken quest within him to find its source.

At first, he thought it came from the bakery, but the closer he got, the more elusive the scent became. So, he followed the irresistible aroma, realizing he had never smelled anything so strongly.

The scent was like joy etched into his brain – the sweet essence of serotonin intertwining with his other senses. He finally understood what love was, and it called to him.

Eddie hurried ahead as the scent intensified, and there you stood, eying different cheeses. With your hair draped over your shoulder, you compared Brie and Camembert, deep in deliberation. You were oblivious to the alpha staring at you, mouth open in awe, until you inhaled deeply to make your choice, only to catch an unexpected aroma of leather and coffee.

You snapped your head up, forgetting about the cheese, overwhelmed by the aroma that invaded your space. You tucked your hair behind your ear to get a better view, and that's when you noticed him. He was strikingly handsome with rough edges. All hair, tattoos, and leather, yet there was an endearing look in his big, beautiful brown eyes that let you know he is kind.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat as your eyes met his. The colour of your eyes was unlike anything he had ever seen – a mesmerizing blend of rich hues that captured his attention, yet bright enough that he thought he saw stars.

"Hi," Eddie sighed, already lovestruck. His dorky smile was so endearing you couldn’t help but smile back at the stranger. 

“Hi,” it came out almost as a whisper. Your heart was racing, and your stomach did a flipflop. 

You have never felt like this before… like you needed to claim this man standing beside you… like you needed to mark him, to make him belong to you and you to him… yet you don’t even know his name.

“Hi,” he breathes again, not knowing what to say, making you giggle. 

“What would you pick?” You ask him, not wanting him to leave. 

“What?” He snaps out of his aroma high you put him in. 

“Brie or Camembert, what would you pick?” 

“You,” he says without a beat.

“Very smooth,” you try to hide your bashful smile as the blood rushed to your face so fast you swore you could hear it pumping through your skin. 

“I’m Edward… but you can call me Eddie.” He clears his throat. “Edward, but Eddie,” he stumbles his words and sticks out a tattooed hand. 

You take it, feeling sparks as your skin connects, and you both know it but are too scared to admit it. This was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it softly to commit it to memory. 

“You wanna shop around with me?” He scratches his head, not too sure what he is even saying. 

“Um,” you pause to think about it. “Yeah, I would.” You smile, and the breath Eddie was holding finally lets out. 

Spending time with Eddie was the best part of your day. Things had been rough for you, especially since you were running late to prepare for a get-together with friends Robin and Nancy. The stress about the charcuterie board and wine now seemed foolish; but seeing Eddie made all those worries vanish. You both share a magnetic connection, almost as if you're destined to be together.

Neither of you has voiced the idea of being fated mates, as that seems absurd and extremely rare. It's impossible to think he's your perfect match. Yet, as you continued through the grocery store, you both realized this was something different. Surprisingly, instead of feeling nervous around an alpha, you felt safer.

You have never met anyone who found their fated mate. You learned about them in health class, where you were told that you should recognize them by scent, attraction, and connection. However, they are so rare that statistics indicate only one in ten million people find their mate. Therefore, it seems impossible for this to happen to you.

When the girls came over, you couldn’t wait to tell them about the man you met today. 

“You always hear about ‘when you know you know,’ but this felt like I knew.” You babble. “It’s like I was seeing colour for the first time? But of course, I know what colours are, but it’s like… I don’t know….I sound crazy.” You shake your head.

“No, keep going!” Nancy encouraged. Her bright smile so genuine you couldn’t say no to her.

You take a long sip of your wine, “Do you guys believe in fated mates?” 

“I think they are real.” Robin nods.

“I think so too. There is no way all the stories can't have some truth behind them,” Nancy offered her thoughts, as she always did with such intelligence.

Based on what you described, they were utterly convinced he was your soulmate. The endless questions began—they wanted to hear every tiny, intimate detail, especially since they had never known anyone who experienced such a connection, let alone their closest friend. You vividly recounted how you felt an overwhelming urge for him to tear your clothes off and claim you right there in the dairy aisle. Yet, he was the epitome of a gentleman; he walked you to your car, pushed your cart for you, and meticulously loaded your bags into the trunk. If you had been a bus rider, you were certain he would have offered you a lift without hesitation. His disappointment was palpable when it came time for your goodbyes. This inexplicable connection lingered, though you waved off their comments, chalking it up to a whimsical notion of a hopeless romantic.

Just like he knew you were gushing about him, he calls while the girls are over. Thankfully, he had asked for your number in the parking lot before you had driven off. If he hadn’t, you would have asked for his; there was no way you weren’t seeing this guy again. You both lingered, not sure how to feel. You were both nervous, but he also made you feel safe, not something you were used to with an alpha. 

You had to quell Nancy and Robin’s excitement while they eavesdrop in on the conversation.

Eddie had asked you out for coffee, keeping it light and casual, instead of inviting you to his place. He was considerate of your need to be in a public space for safety. He didn’t have much money to spend on you, and coffee was easy and relaxed; he didn’t want to come off too strong; he had just finished high school a year ago and didn’t want to scare you away. The only thing he wanted was to keep you. He was aware of what some other alphas had done, often covered in the news—taking whomever they wanted, whenever they wanted, believing they were entitled just for existing. They acted like gods... but not Eddie. Eddie wanted to protect his omega and ensure you were never stressed. He felt a deep, primal urge to keep you safe.

Eddie didn’t fit into society’s archetypes about what alphas should be and look like, so when he started changing, he didn’t believe he was one until his first rut… that sure was something he didn’t expect. 

Sure, Eddie was different, but he was still an alpha; he wanted to claim, mark, and breed you. He pushed away x-rated thoughts of the two going at it in the grocery store parking lot. He knew it was too soon; only a crazy person would have the urge to want to mark a total stranger… to want to make them theirs…. to have them feel safe, and stop at nothing to do so.

You have been on Eddie’s mind every second since he met you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you soothed his soul, how he couldn’t even think straight.

So coffee on Tuesday afternoon seemed like a safe bet; thankfully, both of your schedule’s allowed it.

By the time it hit two o'clock, you were buzzing with excitement. Eddie was due any moment, and you couldn't stop fussing over your outfit. Did you seem too eager? Was your hair too big? Too much makeup? Or not enough? Your mind was a whirlwind of questions until the door speaker announced his arrival.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. Eddie was on the other side, and all your worries floated away when you saw him with a bouquet. No one had ever gotten you flowers before… 

When Eddie came to pick you up, you initially didn’t have the heart to tell him that this coffee shop was your place of work, but all of that went by the wayside when Steve, your manager and another Alpha greeted you. 

“So, what brings you in on your day off? Can’t get enough of me?” Steve smirked at you, and Eddie had to swallow the burning jealousy that was bubbling to the surface. “I’m on a date.” You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. 

“Well, it’s about time someone snatched you up.” Steve winked at Eddie, and he could be strangling him right then and there. Eddie didn’t want to feel this way, but his alpha was taking over. He didn't appreciate the wink.

Eddie paid for your drinks and insisted you get a snack, so you picked your favourite muffin. Steve gave him the employee discount without his knowledge, but you said nothing. You wanted this to go well. 

Steve seemed like a good guy, but Eddie wasn’t a fan of your working so closely with another alpha. He had doubts; he hated how he smiled at you and how Steve could make you giggle. Eddie tried to push down the thought of the two of you working alone. 

You suggested you sit outside on the patio, away from prying ears.

“Are you sure this is okay? If I had known, I would have taken you somewhere else, like ice cream or something...” His leg bounced, and you could see how he was in his head. He felt like an idiot for thinking this would be an excellent first-date spot. 

You had sat across from him, but you scooted your chair closer and rested your hand on his knee. 

“I’m okay, Eddie. I promise. I’m happy to be with you. I don’t care about the setting… we have the best coffee anyway.” You giggle. 

Eddie melted at your touch; everything about you calmed him but riled him up. 

As first dates go, this had been the best one you’ve ever been on. You delved into each other's worlds; the conversation flowed effortlessly, and you can’t recall the last time you laughed so heartily. Eddie was loud, theatrical, and boisterous, and you relished every moment. 

He loved how attentively you listened to him and didn’t make him feel embarrassed about his nerdy interests. He was astonished by your genuine curiosity and the warmth with which you sought to understand him. 

Your heart raced when Eddie walked you to your door, only to kiss your lips tenderly. You had longed to kiss him throughout the entire evening, often holding yourself back from leaning in, but now that the date had concluded, you didn’t want him to leave. 

This kiss was unlike any other, a swirling kaleidoscope of colours flashing behind your closed eyelids as your mouths moved in perfect harmony. Eddie’s strong hands held you firmly by the waist, grounding you in this extraordinary moment. 

Eddie wanted to roam his hands along your entire body badly, but he squeezed your hips instead to keep them in place. Your body reacted to the pressure of his fingertips, and you pressed your body further into his, and he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth. 

Groping at one another like a bunch of horny teenagers, you both didn't stop until your neighbour's door unlatched, starting you both.

“Do you want to come inside?” 

“I do, but if I come in, I’m going to want to take things further… and you deserve more than a hook-up on the first date.” 

“But what if I wanted to?” You look up at him with those mesmerizing eyes, and he fights with himself in his mind.

“You’re killing me here,” he chuckles, and you slip your hands around his waist, proceeding to kiss his neck. 

“Shit, no, no. God, I’m such an idiot. Fuck. Please. I wanna treat you right.” 

“Okay,” you sigh, disappointed but not offended. 

“I’ll call you,” Eddie promised before giving you one more needy kiss, then reluctantly pulling away.

You and Eddie have been seeing one another for a few weeks now and still have yet to move past making out in the hallway of your apartment. 

The more time spent apart, the more anxious you have become. Your omega yearned for Eddie. You wanted him so badly you had the crazy idea to stop taking your suppressants. You stopped taking them becuse you wish for Eddie to breed you- but the stopping of your suppressant only made your hormones go haywire, and your heat came on much more quickly than the doctor had said it would.

You had failed to mention the amount of time you had been spending one-on-one with an alpha and the way you reacted to him in the process. Your body felt like it was on fire, you had been sweating all day, you were sent home early from your shift because it was clear to Steve what had been happening and there was no way he would be around for that. 

You got home, and your nest didn’t feel right. You piled the shirts and pants that you had seen Eddie in, the faint smell of him lingering, but it wasn‘t enough. This was the first time you experienced heat since your first one a few years ago. You didn’t want to go through it again without an alpha with you, but you hadn’t even had a chance to talk about it with Eddie. Your decision was rash, and you became nervous to bring it up. You wanted to sleep with him so much that your omega acted for you, dumping out the pill bottle down the toilet so you didn’t change your mind. 

The cramps set on pretty quickly after you got home. The pain was so great that you almost passed out. You lay in your bed for hours, unable even to pick up the phone for anyone.

Eddie was getting increasingly worried. He had anticipated your call to confirm you got home safely, but over an hour had passed without a word. Perhaps you were asked to stay late? He had called your place around six times. Yes, it was excessive, but he couldn’t wait anxiously for you to call back. His concern overwhelmed him, prompting him to go to your workplace, hoping to find you safe.

He reluctantly asked Steve where you were, and when Steve told him, he sent you home because you were not feeling well. That’s when the alarms sounded off in Eddie’s head. His alpha entirely took over his actions, not even saying thank you or goodbye to Steve; he raced out of the coffee shop, back in his van, and towards your apartment. The closer he got to your door the more he could sense something was wrong. The smell was off, you weren’t happy, he could smell the stress emanating out from under the door.

You think you can hear a pounding at the door, but maybe that was just a part of your fever dream? You were burning up; your body was in so much pain from your heat that you could hardly keep your eyes open. Nothing felt right; you were so stressed you could hardly think straight, and the nest was so utterly wrong you hated it, but you had no choice.

You can hear more pounding and maybe you heard your name being called. You for sure hear a loud slam and an overwhelming aroma of leather and coffee but mixed with stress and anxiety.

A whimper escapes you when the smell strengthens and the noises become more audible. Your name was called repeatedly, but you hadn’t the strength to open your eyes.

“Baby!” Eddie rushed to your side when he saw you there, naked, curled up in the fetal position, skin slick with a layer of sweat.

It finally registered that it was your alpha with you in the room.

“Need you.” You reach for him, and he’s in the nest with you within seconds.

You take a deep breath in, and he purs, hoping it will soothe you as he holds your body against his.

“Baby, talk to me,” he coos.

“Hurts so bad,” You cry.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Need you”

“I’m here, baby.”

“No, I need you.” Your hand grazes his crotch, and Eddie understands now. You must be going into heat, but you told him you were on suppresents?

The two of you never spoke about taking things to the next step, not that Eddie didn’t want to. Trust, he wanted to, but he didn’t think you were ready.

“Baby, are-are you sure?”

“Please, I need you so badly, alpha.”

Hearing you utter those words triggered something in Eddie so primal that he produced a growl so low he startled himself.

Not taking any more time to mull it over, Eddie gently lets you go and slips between your legs. He sees your swollen clit, your slick drip from you; it’s soaked through your sheets, and the smell of it makes his eyes roll back into his skull before he dove in.

Out of all the times you’ve dreamt about Eddie between your legs for the first time, this was never the scenario.

A small whimper of relief left your lips as your Eddie’s mouth made contact with your mound. The soft hairs tickled Eddie’s nose as he explored your slick-coated folds, revelling in your taste. It was like nothing he had ever tasted; he wanted more and more; he was greedy -he primal.

The way his tongue slopes along your folds and up into your pussy was so good; you hate to think how he learned to please a pussy so well.

Your body was on overdrive, so sensitive that every touch was like you were on fire. His mouth felt so good on your lower lips; the familiar feeling of your orgasm came crashing through you so quickly.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, fuck you’re doing so well, sweet omega.” He massaged your clit as he talked you through your orgasm.

“Eddie.” Your hands grip his roots. He feels so good underneath you, but the pain is still there. It wouldn’t go away until he was fully inside.

“More, Eddie, please; I want your knot.”

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. His pants and boxers were off as soon as you finished telling him what you needed.

His cock was at attention, and your mouth watered at the sight of it.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Your alpha has you.”

“Hurts,” you cry.

Eddie is mindful; he stretches you out with his fingers first, and he knows his size is of the larger stature.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby; I got you.” He aligns himself with your throbbing pussy and slowly pushes himself inside.

“Fuck” he grits through his teeth, never has he felt something so delicious.

Your head was spinning; nothing felt real, but your senses had been so heightened that you felt everything. The sweat dripping down your back, the electric touch of eddies hands on your waist, the way his cock stretches you so wide, and how he plunges himself so deep.

“Please, please, please,” You babble.

Eddie takes that as his cue to start pumping in and out of you. His knot was rapidly growing with each thrust, and it took everything in him not to plunge himself so deep inside. He took his time fucking you, making love to you.

He knew that you were it for him; even if the rumours were not true about fated mates, that didn’t matter. You were everything to him and more.

“Harder,” you plead.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, please; I need it so bad, Eddie. Need you so bad.” You grab onto his hips and push him in deeper. The thick base of his cock stretched you so well. Your body was made to take it as he ruts up inside of you.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck” Eddie hisses. No one had ever taken his knot before, and god, was it good. Your tight dripping pussy wrapped around him as he plugged your hole.

Eddie’s cock was so deep inside you, and he kept rutting his hips up up up, hitting that delicious spot every time that your second orgasm washed through you like a tidal wave.

“shit,” Eddie couldn’t handle the way your pussy was like a vice on his cock. His seed spurting up into you and being locked in place by his knot only had your head spinning.

“Thank you. Your tears were streaming down your face, and Eddie repositioned both of you so you could sit up on his lap.

“That’s it, baby, I’ve got you. All you needed was your alpha to breed you, huh?”

“Not all,” you sniffle.

Eddie looks at you bewildered. What else could you be asking for? He cannot recall much of high school health class.

“Mark me, mate me, make me yours,” you beg.

“Wh-what? Princess, you’re not thinking straight. Its just the first few hours of your heat… we should talk about this.” He strokes your hair out of your face.

“No, please, Eddie! We are mates. Fated mates. I feel it in my bones, don’t you?” You try and hold back your tears but your heart feels so much for Eddie they come down freely.

“No baby, don’t cry. He wipes the tears away before pulling you in closer. Your naked body’s flush against one another. Your slick still trying to leak down your legs.

“I’m sorry, I love you. I want to be with you.”

You mumble into his neck, your nose graze his scent gland. You nuzzle your face into it before your teeth graze lower on his neck, daring to puncture.

“You love me?”

“Yes Eddie so much, it like I can’t breath when your not around.”

“No ones ever loved me before…”

“Oh Eddie, baby.” You kiss him like it was your last time you ever will. Your hips grind and Eddie’s cock hits that stops deep up inside you once again making you both main with pleasure.

“I love you so much, do-do it” he stutters. No way he could deny this connection any longer. You were right and he will do anything in his power to please you, to claim you, to have you, to love you.

“You sure?”

“Yes, baby, mark me. I want everyone to see who I belong to.”

You sink your teeth into the skin where his neck meets his shoulder and it’s like everything made sense. You never felt so much love, so much light and happiness. You could tell how much Eddie loved you just by the scent.

You lick at the wound and Eddie brushes your hair out of the way so he can claim you as his.

“You want my mark?”

“Please” you beg still grinding your hips trying to chase a third orgasm.

Eddie’s soft lips part against a higher point, closer to the middle of your throat and then it happens. His teeth sink into your skin and you feel a sing but then your orgasm hits you all at once. The connection between you two bound together for a lifetime. In that moment, it became undeniably clear to both of you that this was your destiny. Meeting Eddie at the grocery store was no mere coincidence; it was as if the universe had aligned to bring you together. Eddie had become your pillar of support, your perfect counterpart. This kind of serendipity doesn't come around for just anyone, and you felt incredibly fortunate to have found him.

“Holy shit”

“Wow”

You're both awestruck, soaking up the moment. Breathing in one another as Eddie’s knot shows no sign of deflating just yet.

Your heat would still be going full force for the next few days, however for now the pain has subsided.

“I love you.” Eddie whispers. “You’re the love of my life.”

“I love you Eddie” your arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer. “Now breed me.”

[navybrat817]

Can lumberjack Bucky keep me warm? 🥺

He'd love to, nonnie.

A Warm Embrace

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky teases you as he keeps you warm. Word Count: Over 600 Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, pet names, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Are you lovelies sick of my fluff? Sorry, but Burly and Bambi are sweet.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You couldn't sleep. Not with how cold you were. The thick blanket tucked around you should've been more than enough to keep you warm, but it didn't stop your teeth from chattering. The howling wind outside sent another shiver down your spine as you tried to burrow yourself deeper into your bed. Maybe you should've thrown another log on the fire.

Better yet, you should've just camped out in front of the fireplace instead of stubbornly going to the bedroom.

“Stupid cold,” you grumbled to yourself, rubbing your face against the pillow when gentle footsteps approached the bed.

Your eyes flew open when the mattress dipped behind you, a warm weight enveloping your back under the blanket before a heavy arm curled around you. “Can hear your teeth chatting from the other room, Bambi,” a deep voice rumbled.

The tremble that rolled through your body had nothing to do with the cold when Bucky rubbed his soft beard against your neck. “I slipped on the ice one time,” you muttered.

He chuckled before he kissed the back of your neck, tracing the path his beard made as you bit your lip. “Yeah, but you tried so hard to stay upright before gravity took you out. Just like Bambi.”

“I’ll have you know that I fell very gracefully,” you said before he turned your body toward him, your heart racing as you came face-to-face with the lumberjack.

Bucky was the captivating sort of handsome, the type that made people stop in their tracks when they caught a glimpse of him. From his lush brown hair to the depths of his intelligent and striking blue eyes, it was like an angel carved him out specifically for you. But what was beautiful about him came from within and shined through the surface.

Even when he teased you.

“I watched the whole thing, darling, and you were about as graceful as a baby deer,” he said, his azure eyes filled with glee when you narrowed yours. “Again, just like Bambi.”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute, Burly. And warm,” you said, tearing your gaze away from his pretty eyes to stare at his broad chest. Of course, he walked around the cabin shirtless while you couldn’t stop shaking. How was he so hot? Body and looks wise?

Was it a rule that lumberjacks were sin incarnate clad in packages of plaid shirts and tight pants with sturdy bodies underneath?

“So, you do think I’m cute,” he teased, your stomach flipping as you smiled at his words. Of course, you did. “Come here.”

You buried your face in his chest as his arm tightened around you, molding your body against his as you sought out more of his warmth. He rested his chin on the top of your head as your shaking eventually stopped, his calloused hand roaming along your back with immense care. All you wanted to do minutes ago was sleep, but now he was holding you and pushing a thick thigh between your legs and all you wanted to do was bask in his attention.

Maybe ride his thigh, too.

“You’re right, you know,” he said.

You tried to lean back as much as you could to get a good look at him, but didn’t want any space between the two of you in case you started shivering again. “Right about what?”

He brought his hand to your cheek as his lips curled in a small smile. “I am lucky,” he whispered, helping you tilt your head so he could kiss you, slow and deep.

And lucky for you, your lumberjack would always be by your side.

Because I need another AU, right? SHH. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[roanniom]

Sleepy grinding with Eddie. 🥺

It's either late at night or really early in the morning as he and you are fumbling around to find each other and embrace... only for you to wrap your legs against him and begin to grind on his crotch... and him following...

I find that really cute and hot agakalaldkd 🙈

Ok but hear me out.

Early Hours

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, dry humping, thigh fucking, previously discussed and therefore consensual somno. DO NOT READ if somno bothers you, I am not responsible for you disliking this kind of thing

You wake up in the wee hours of the morning to Eddie further on his side of the bed, leaving you cold and lonely. You won’t stand for that, of course, so you scootch over to where he lays on his back and curl yourself around his side, one leg thrown over his, leaving your pelvis flush with his hip.

Satisfied and snuggly, you try to fall back asleep, but a warmth settles in the pit of your stomach when Eddie grunts lightly in his sleep. Before you even realize you’re doing it, you begin grinding into him, feeling delicious friction on your clit through your panties. As the pleasure builds within you, your half asleep brain tries to tell you not to do this, but the rest of your mind is tuned out. Too focused on seeking the reward at the end of the rutting.

Eddie wakes up when your limbs tighten suddenly around him, your hips convulsing and grinding against the side of his till suddenly they still, a whimper escaping your throat. Your arms and legs go limp then, boneless in the wake of your orgasm, and tiny breaths pant from your lips to his ear.

Eddie’s sleep fogged mind can’t even fully comprehend what just happened, but his dick sure can. It becomes fully rigid in no time, tenting his boxers and the sheets as you turn away and nestle into your pillow, humming in sleepy contentment.

Just as you had, Eddie’s body rolls toward you, seeking your warmth like a magnet. He spoons you, erection pushing between the fat of your thighs to rest against the damp gusset of your panties, your hot folds spreading around him beyond the fabric. Your panties are wet, and if his mind was fully awake it would be more proof of what had just transpired.

Without any thought, Eddie’s hips begin rolling. Slow. Methodical. The friction is so sweet it aches, and your legs squeeze together as your body reacts to the stimulation.

After a particularly definitive grind forward, Eddie rouses himself and you with a deep throated moan.

“Mmmm Eds,” you slur on an inhale. As your brain orients, your tensed body melts back into him, a hum of contentment vibrating through you to him. His cock rocks against your clit with each forward motion and you can feel the fresh tension building up in you core. “Feels nice.”

“Morning,” Eddie mutters, kissing your shoulder lightly.

There’s way too many layers between you for any of this grinding to be efficient, but something about the stickiness seeping through the different fabrics, and the needy escalations of Eddie’s thrusts, magnifies the already pleasant friction. You grip at his forearms where he’s got you cages against him and begin rolling your hips to meet his.

What began as light, huffing exhales of exertion become grunts similar to the one that got you going in the first place. You remember it suddenly - the way you had humped his hip and cum against him, half asleep such a short time ago. Your pussy flutters, trying to hold onto the covered length that rubs perpendicular to where you need it most.

“Eddie,” you whine into the darkness. The sound does something primal to him, and something closer to a growl issues from his lips, making you whimper even more.

“Baby,” he says back into your skin.

"Wanna cum," you whisper pathetically. Eddie's teeth sink lightly into your shoulder at that his encircling grip tightening and his hips snapping faster. The acceleration of movement and pressure gets you exactly where you want to be and you grind down on his cock where it pushes between your legs.

There's little else to do but convulse in his arms, exactly as his hips stutter and a shuddering gasp erupts from his throat.

"Eddie..." you moan out his name, elongating the last syllable as the pleasure floods your body. A warm wetness floods the space between you, a sticky evidence of your successful humping.

"Mmmm fuck," Eddie hums against you, gathering you somehow even tighter in his arms. You hiss at the feeling of your combined, clothed slickness, finally coming down from the high. After a moment, your wriggle in his grasp.

"Gotta get up," you giggle as Eddie shushes you and tries to keep you against the mattress. Eddie shakes his head, eyes tightly closed.

"No, it's still too fucking early."

"Shoulda thought about that before you came all over me," you tease, finally succeeding in rolling over and a bit away from him. Eddie squints an eye open and smirks at you.

"Pretty sure you came all over me first, princess. Or does that not count since I was asleep?"

Your jaw drops and you feel embarrassment heat your whole body. Eddie rolls over to you and grabs your face before you can begin to feel too uncomfortable, pulling you to him for a deep kiss.

"Maybe I'll wake up first tomorrow morning, yeah?" he asks, giving you a wink when he pulls away.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed, please let me know!!

[illyrianbitch]

can I request a cassian drabble where he cuddles with her when she has a migraine 🥺 asking for a friend of course 🥴

Tender

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Word count: 683

Warnings: None <3

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian wore a large grin on his face as he ran into your room, the door hitting the wall behind him with a loud, heavy thud. 

“Sweetheart! You won’t believe what happened—” 

You grimaced at the noise, at how loud and full of energy his voice is. Normally, the sound would bring a flutter to your heart, make your stomach flip. But now, with the pounding in your head and the throbbing echoes behind your eyes, it sent a spike of agony through your head. 

You groaned softly, raising a hand to your temple as you pushed your head further into the pillow. “Cass, please,” you murmured, “Quiet.”

Cassian stilled, the low tone of your voice sending a wave of worry through his body. He frowned in concern as he took you in, your still form in bed, the curtains of your shared room drawn to block out the light. Another wave of worry ran through him, much stronger than the first.

“What’s wrong?” 

His voice had dropped to a softer tone. 

“Migraine,” you managed to breathe out, squeezing your eyes tightly.

Cassian’s face softened.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice now falling to a gentle whisper. 

With surprising quietness for someone of his size, he crossed the room in a few long strides, carefully sitting at the edge of the bed. He brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. 

“What can I do?”

You shrugged slightly, face contorted into a painful frown. “Fix it.” 

The crease between his brows deepened. He gave no verbal response, but you felt the bed lift as he stood up, his footsteps quieting as he walked into the bathroom. Faintly, through your painful haze, you could hear the rustling of fabric and running water, and then he was back at your side, the bed dipping as he pressed a cool cloth to your forehead. You let out a sound of relief at the sensation. 

“Here,” he said softly, scooting closer to you as he helped you sit up slightly. He offered you a small glass of water. “Drink.”

You frowned, the pounding in your head worsening at the tension created between your brows. You blinked hard. 

“Cass-”

He gave you a face.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “I already know you haven’t had enough water today. Please.”

You let out a sigh. 

“Okay,” you whispered, carefully leaning forward to take a few sips.

Cassian helped you with the cup, taking it gingerly in his hands to place on the side table as you laid back down. 

He settled beside you, careful not to jostle you as he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm under your ear as you leaned further into his touch. 

“This okay?” he asked, breath warm against your hair.

You nodded slightly, nuzzling even closer to him. The warmth of his body spread throughout your skin.  “Perfect.”

Cassian’s hand stroked your back in slow, calming circles, fingers tracing soothing patterns through the delicate fabric of your shirt.

“Good, sweetheart,” he whispered, “Just rest. I’ve got you.”

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your body slowly easing with every brush of his fingers.

“Cass,” you murmured into his chest, “Could you rub my head?”

“Of course,” he replied, almost instantly. He shifted slightly, hand moving to your head as his fingers began to gently massage your temples. You let out a deep, relieved breath.

“Is this helping?” 

“Yes,” you breathed, closing your eyes. “Thank you.”

Cassian continued to rub your head, his touch tender and careful. He hummed softly, a lullaby-like tune that vibrated through his body. The sound was gentle, almost like a purr, as it lured you to sleep.

From deep within your chest, you could feel Cassian’s worry— could feel his need to make things better for you. Now, in the blissful silence, your heart fluttered with a familiar warmth. 

As you drifted towards sleep, you heard him faintly whisper, “I’ll stay right here. As long as you need.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen

[greenandsorrow]

IF THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED NEVER HURT YOU, MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO PROTECT YOU. 🎈

Pennywise bonding with a teen!reader/ platonic

-> For technical reasons (for the plot to continue plotting), this chap focuses mostly on the past! Another thing... I appreciate your feedback and comments more than you realise, so don't hesitate to interact with my fics 🥺❣️

-> It's giving Stockholm Syndrome, I'm aware, but that's why it's called fanFICTION.

-> I think it's funny how each chapter turns out to be longer than the last. I'm getting hooked to my own writing I guess.

-> Pennywise the Dancing Clown: A trans-dimensional entity that shapeshifts and feeds on the fear -and sometimes the flesh- of kids and animals. IT hibernates for 25 to 27 years, then wakes up for 12 to 16 months, manipulating reality and slipping past the notice of adults.

Listen to: Ilomilo by Billie Eilish

~ 3 ~

Pennywise's POV 🎈

For five long years he has stayed awake, stalking the streets of Derry... waiting. Pennywise's usual cycle -hibernating after a killing and terrorizing spree- has been disrupted. This time, something -someone- kept him from descending to the deep slumber he usually craves.

He can't fully understand it, but it's because of you -the spark, the tug of connection he isn't familiar with. He's hunted countless children without a second thought. But with you... When he had expected you to cower and break, instead, you had resisted, you had played his twisted games and stared back at him without losing your soul. You had made him so curious. And that curiosity has gnawed at him enough to eat away at his rest, putting him in a sort of restless trance.

Every time he tries to slip beneath the Earth and to return to the darkness he came from, he feels a pull, a shudder that makes him cling to the surface for just a little more, for just another silly, little, stupid, meek year.

But as the years have been slipping by, something else has shifted in him as well -a subtle thing that feels almost like restraint. He still lurks in the shadows, his instincts are still telling him to frighten and to feed… but each time he sees you, that impulse falters. Instead of scaring you, he finds himself watching, almost guarding you from afar.

It feels a twinge of protectiveness -an urge that should definitely not exist in a creature made to hunt and devour. It doesn't get it, doesn't know why It lingers to ensure no danger befalls you, before It vanishes for the usual twenty-seven years. Almost as though, Pennywise the Clown is bound to you by something unexplainable, something that's kept him from retreating to sleep.

And It hates it.

The longer Pennywise watches, the more he wishes he didn't feel this way. But when he does try to stir up the familiar darkness within his core, it's dulled and quieted. All he knows is that his hunger has been overpowered by something else, something… protective.

And this fact is as unnatural as it is inappropriate, for no other than The Eater of Worlds.

1979 Derry, Maine

"Let's play another game..! I... There is... There's one we haven't played!"

The door creaked open and the clown stepped inside with a look you had never seen before on him. He wasn't smiling, wasn't performing... he was serious, unsettlingly so. A reminder that Pennywise wasn't -and isn't- a real clown, not in the way he pretends to be. Drool slipped from his red lips, glistening in the early morning light filtering through a crooked and badly shut window. He had probably just interrupted his breakfast -maybe to see you- and the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

"What kind of game?" his voice rumbled low, sending a chill across your skin. Your stomach tightened and you swallowed down the bile that rose. His piercing, yellow gaze left you feeling exposed.

You struggled to think of something, anything that could buy you more time. You had to say something, or else he would just get pissed and maybe have you for breakfast, instead of the one he was -so rudely- interrupted from.

"The first one to… If I can name one friend before you do, I get to leave. If you win… You get to do whatever you want with me." You knew you were cornered, but the words had come out anyway.

A strange look flickered across his face.

"What's your name?"

You frowned at what sounded like an absurd thing to ask out of the blue. "Y/n."

He giggled.

"Oh really?! And I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown! Now we've both properly introduced ourselves... We can be friends!!!"

The point of the game was for you to win... but he just had to be a smartass.

"WE CAN'T- CAN'T BE FRIENDS!"

Pennywise pouted, almost like a child who's just been told no. You could see the contradiction in him as he considered your words -a clown who loves games, whose eyes practically gleam with excitement... and yet a predator who's always calculating, always one step ahead, keeping his prey exactly where he wants it. He knew you had just tried to outsmart him, yet he stepped closer, drawn in by the idea of another game. Your captor knew way more about you than you had realized -he had been watching you long before he had decided to 'kidnap' you.

Actually, your desperate answer made him leave his spot by the doorframe and advance toward you, crouching down to your eye level. You were paralyzed in fear he could probably smell. Even while holding your breath, you could feel his own on your face... It smelled like a butcher's shop.

"Don't. Shout. At. Me."

You nodded.

His drool was still glistening.

"You're not leaving either."

Another nod.

Then, he left the room.

Later, you'd realize he had let you have your way with that idiotic game purely out of boredom -a way to break up the ancient routine It'd followed since the beginning of time. But in that moment, you were just trying to survive.

What happened next is clouded in fragments, your memory blurred by fear -or maybe it's nostalgia. Somehow, over time, you became something to him. Indeed... a friend... of sorts.

As more days passed, you dared to start speaking more freely, filling the silence between you. You'd mention that you were cold, or hungry and he would tilt his head in that curious way of his. The next day, a bag of chips might appear on the bed. Once, you coughed, your throat parched. Fortunately, you managed to murmur "water". A few hours later, there it was -water in a bowl.

You found your book -Alice in Wonderland- left in a corner of the room. You read to him, each word trembling from your lips but never letting your voice falter fully. Pennywise would sit at the edge of the bed, sometimes even curling up like a cat -making you question if he had any bones-, his gaze fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. You were scared that when you finished reading the book, your life would end along with Alice's story.

But it didn't.

Still, sometimes you made desperate attempts to escape, bolting to the door. But he'd catch you with a taunting grin.

"Tag, you're it!" he'd chuckle, pinning you effortlessly. "Winner gets a prize!" he'd mock, as if the only reward he needed was to see your defeated face. But despite the mocking, the punishing appearances of the enormous cockroach stopped.

Even his gaze softened over time, slipping from the predator's yellow stare to an electric blue. The games also shifted -grew less cruel- and with them, so did he. He no longer seemed intent on hurting you and instead, observed you with a cautious neutrality.

Each day It brought you random bowls of food and water -most likely stolen from unsuspecting housewives... And sometimes, It would linger just outside the door, listening to your voice as you read to yourself.

One evening, you found yourself in the backyard, gazing up at a lilac sky. He had taken you there -unbeknownst to you- because he had brought a little snack inside and didn't want that to scare you.

You missed your old life with a pang that made your throat burn, a feeling so deep you didn't even notice him approaching. Without thinking, you pressed yourself into the clown's chest, burying your face against his ruffled collar. His strange scent -a mix of damp earth and something much older- washed over you and for the first time, you felt… safe with him.

He didn't hug you back, didn't mimic the gesture, but his voice murmured strange words about humans, their fragile nature and then the usual pet name he would call you: "little one".

It was then that you realized -he wouldn't hurt you. Not now. Not after all this time. But the realization broke something in you, a dam holding back all the emotions that had been bubbling under the surface.

"Y- You won. You won!" you stammered, choking back tears. "I'm your friend! Kill me now!"

You collapsed to your knees and he watched -bewildered- as tears streamed down your face. For a moment, he just stood there and watched you cry. Then, tentatively, he reached out in an almost inquisitive manner, to catch a tear with a long, white finger and taste it. He seemed to pause, reflecting on something only he could understand.

And then on another day, another attempt to escape. You had found a tiny window in the basement and tried to squeeze through it. But he noticed, his monstrous form scraping against the window's frame, shattering the glass in a frenzy to reach you.

When you saw the shards cutting into his skin... You froze, guilt flooding over you. You returned to his side while murmuring apologies, your hands trembling as you pulled the glass from his wounds, piece by piece.

He didn't attack you -just stared at you with a seriousness that sent chills down your spine. You knew in that moment, that you had crossed a line, that there was something between you that shouldn't have been there -because you could've left but didn't and because he could've killed you but didn't either.

When you finished pulling out the glass pieces, he was pouting at you. "Meanie..." he said and stuck his tongue out.

In the days that followed, Pennywise grew quieter. He watched you differently, as if seeing you with new eyes -ones that held a warmth you'd never expected. And in a way, it made you feel… comfortable. Comfortable enough that one day, you dared to reach out, brushing a hand along his white cheek.

He froze under your touch, as if unsure how to react -his usually fierce, yellow eyes softening to that strange blue. A low sound rumbled from him -somewhere between a purr and a growl- and he tilted his head, pressing into your hand like a cat, seeming almost… content.

But that wasn't right. He wasn't human and he definitely wasn't a pet. It was something ancient and boundless... and yet here It was, in its favorite form, accepting your touch and even starting to crave it. You pulled your hand away and his eyes opened, watching you in a way that felt unexpectedly intimate.

Time continued to flow onward.

You were now given strange meals in even stranger containers -a cracked bowl, a chipped mug, even a metal dish that you could have sworn was meant for a dog! He didn't seem to understand the details of human routines, didn't quite grasp what you needed beyond food and water. Yet he tried, even if it were in ways that felt utterly alien.

One evening, just as the sun began to dip, you asked if you could go outside again. You hadn't meant it as a real question, but in the morning, you found the door to the backyard unlocked.

You didn't dare leave the property, but you enjoyed how the air was fresh and the grass was soft and the sky a little cloudy. You stayed out until evening came.

Pennywise watched you from a distance, the colors of the twilight reflecting in his eyes, giving him an almost haunting beauty. He joined you, sitting in the overgrown grass... murmuring things in a language that sounded both ancient and musical, like whispers from an old spell.

In the quiet, you leaned against him, letting the stillness speak for you both. And though he didn't return the gesture, just like last time, he didn't pull away either. You looked up at the stars, feeling that deep ache for home... He patted your head in a comforting manner... and in that moment you could almost believe he was a friend.

You were just a kid, but even with your naivety, deep down you knew the truth -he was a monster that had killed before and would kill again. Yet for now, he seemed content with your presence, more curious than threatening. He tilted his head, watching you with softness in his gaze, as if pondering the mystery of your existence.

Somewhere in your heart, you felt the shift. Pennywise, the monster, had grown attached to you. And you… well, you couldn't deny the attachment had become mutual.

The days blurred together even more after that, filled with silly games, with quiet moments and fragments of a bond you could neither define nor understand.

And yet, even as you tried to push away the thought, you feared that someday he might wake up and no longer see you as friend, or even as a curiosity, but as something he was hungry for once more. Still, in the quiet of the night it felt like a small, tragic eternity -two beings from worlds apart, drawn together and held by something both tender and terrifying.

The last days in the house at Neibolt St were the strangest. Pennywise grew quiet, almost pensive, as if some hidden clock was winding down inside him. You noticed how his smiles and giggles were fading, as if the game he'd once delighted in was losing its thrill. Sometimes, he would simply watch you with an unreadable expression, his eyes that odd, bright blue that almost felt... sad.

You felt a pang of sympathy for him. For all his power and for all his malevolence, he was still somehow... alone. You had felt it in those strange moments when -almost wistfully- he'd listen to you talk and read.

The last night felt different, filled with an air of finality.

As you laid on your creaky bed, you noticed him standing in the corner of the room, like some sort of sleep paralysis demon. He was staring at you with an intensity that used to scare you three months ago. You felt the impulse to speak, but you knew he wouldn't respond. Instead, you held his gaze, feeling a strange sense of sorrow settle over you.

When he finally spoke, his voice was almost too soft to hear.

"Little one, when you leave…will you forget about me?"

The question caught you off guard and you didn't know how to answer. You wanted to tell him that you wouldn't, that everything you'd been through would be impossible to forget. But Pennywise knew that memories could fade, that as you grew older, the edges of this nightmare would blur.

You just stared at him, searching for the right words.

His eyes held a strange depth, a rawness you hadn't seen before. But he didn't wait for your answer. He simply turned, drifting back into the shadows as he whispered...

"The game isn't over."

And as he vanished, you were left in the cold darkness, with the silence pressing down around you like a final embrace. You clutched your knees to your chest, feeling the weight of those words settle heavily in your heart. You knew that even if you did forget him one day, some part of him would linger -an echo in the back of your mind, a memory that would never truly die.

That night, as sleep began to take you, you imagined him in the backyard... looking up at the stars and wondering if you'd remember.

It really felt like something precious had been taken away from you too early.

The next morning, you woke up in your own bed, in your home in Witchham Street.

For a moment you thought you'd died... Εveryone around you acted as though you'd never disappeared, as if those harrowing months at Neibolt hadn't happened at all. But there was one particular detail that hinted otherwise... A red balloon, floating silently at the edge of your bed.

That morning, you also got your period for the first time.

Stepping outside, the daylight was so bright and so warm, a stark contrast to the darkness you'd lived in for weeks. You squinted at the light, feeling almost as though you'd stepped into another world. It was hard to believe that just the night before, you had been in his arms -you had been seeking comfort from the monster who had held you captive.

Part of you seriously considered whether it had all been just a dream. Still, for days, you felt his absence like a missing heartbeat.

The world around you seemed much louder and the colors almost too vivid. Sometimes, you'd catch yourself looking for him in the shadows, half expecting to see his shape looming in the corners of your room.

At night you'd lie awake, thinking of his strange question...

"When you leave… will you forget me?"

You didn't know how to answer, even to yourself.

As much as you wanted to return to your old life and to move on from that nightmare, you felt a small part of you ache with the loss. You had lived through something impossible, something that had left you changed.

There was no going back to who you were before.

Over time though, the memory of him faded into something almost surreal. You didn't speak of it to anyone -the words felt fragile and sacred, as if telling the story might diminish it.

But the craziest thing that happened? You continued living as if everything was perfectly normal.

You only thought of Pennywise again that Christmas, in 1979...

The holidays had come to Derry and your family decorated the house with lights and garlands, the scents of pine and cinnamon clinging to every corner. There were gifts under the tree and snow falling outside the windows. Everything was festive and happy.

But when you woke up in your cozy little bedroom -on the 24th-, near the foot of your bed laid a single, crumpled sunflower. It must've been from the patch in the backyard where you'd sometimes sit with him, where the wildflowers had managed to grow despite the gloom. You held it gently, careful not to disturb its fragile petals. It felt like a memento of your time together -a reminder that what you had shared was real, however bizarre and terrifying.

On some nights, when the world was silent, you'd find yourself reaching for that sunflower, feeling the dried petals crumble beneath your fingertips. You'd lie awake, wondering where he was -if he still remembered, if he still waited. And though you'd never say it out loud, a small part of you hoped he did. Because no matter how much time passed, no matter how much you grew or changed, there was one truth you could never deny... He had left his mark on you, a scar that you'd carry forever.

And somewhere out there, you felt certain, Pennywise was waiting.

In the years that followed, you held onto those fleeting memories. They had a strange, magnetic pull -a mix of terror and fascination. You couldn't help but feel that if you let them slip, if you completely forgot, you'd be leaving behind a piece of yourself.

The Losers helped ground you.

They were your anchors to the present, pulling you back to laughter, to familiar faces and to the warmth of friends who shared their own scars and secrets. They never asked about the nightmares that sometimes made you stir, the shadows you occasionally saw out of the corner of your eye. And you never told them.

But there were also moments -quiet and lonely moments- when the weight of it all crept back, haunting you with unspoken questions. You'd wonder if he thought of you, if he missed you in his own twisted way. Did he ever feel the same hollow ache?

And deep down, you even wondered what might happen if he came back. Would he be nice and protecting? Or would he be just as monstrous and alien as before?

On some other nights, when the wind picked up, you swore you could feel his gaze -a distant yet familiar watchfulness that was both comforting and unnerving. It was as though he was still guarding you.

And so you moved forward, feeling the tug of those memories lessen but never fully vanish.

Would he stay away? Or would there come a day when that half-remembered monster with the childlike heart would find his way back to you?

1984 Derry, Maine

You tell yourself you hate Pennywise.

You tell yourself that, because you have to believe it is true, because that's the only way to move on. But deep inside your mind you can still feel him -his question echoing faintly in you, lesser and lesser each year, like a bond stretching thinner and thinner.

Currently, you're pondering over a glass of Cherry Coke. Yesterday, Bill had asked you about your dreams. He wanted to know if the clown that took away his little brother haunted you as well. You had simply shaken your head 'no', but the truth was the complete opposite.

Until you turned fifteen, Pennywise was still in your dreams. You remember those dreams even more vividly than your days in the house on Neibolt St...

You always had a strong imagination, which came with vivid dreams and equally vivid nightmares. In those dreams, Pennywise would come to you whenever you were scared. He'd pull you close in that tender way he never did in reality, fighting off every dark shape in your mind and then wrapping you in a kind of warmth you can't explain with words.

Sometimes, you'd apologize to him in those dreams -feeling an unnamed guilt- and he'd boop your nose with a soft and soothing "It's okie-dokie, Y/n."

Sometimes there'd be a red balloon waiting by your bed when you woke up, or maybe floating outside your school window. And on one specific evening, when the sadness felt like too much to bear, he appeared at the edge of your bed instead of the balloon. He hugged you and stayed with you until morning came, his glowing eyes softly illuminating the darkness. For once, they didn't scare you.

But as you grew up, you began to dream of him differently. In the nightmares, he'd chase you with a crooked smile and eyes that were dark with hunger, until you couldn't run anymore. Then you'd turn, tears streaming down your face, pleading with him and saying you were sorry over and over. You could never remember why you were sorry, but you knew that somewhere deep inside... you had hurt him. And somehow, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was you who'd let him down.

You tried to explain this to him, even though it was only in dreams -your Penny, who had watched over you. But he still seemed sad. So the dreams began to fade and he stopped showing himself altogether. Even then, you could still feel his presence, as if he was looking over you but choosing to stay hidden.

The few glimpses you have left are rather strange. Once, you had a dream with an uncanny intensity. It was the first different kind of dream -a dream where Pennywise was there as well, but puzzled, as you began to see him through a different lens. It left you feeling unsettled. Not sure what it meant, only that it somehow changed everything.

And still, each time you're scared, you call out for him in your dreams. You search, even while knowing he won't appear like he used to. Maybe it's because you had once blurted out that he was a killer, that he took innocent people like Georgie. It's all so blurry now, all these things you can't quite remember but can't entirely forget either.

You miss him.

You know Georgie's disappearance and so many others are somehow linked to that clown. But if his pattern is to stay on Earth for a year and hibernate for two decades (like Ben figured out), why then, hasn't he gone to sleep in five? It's almost as though he can't bring himself to leave.

Maybe you are asking too many questions. Or maybe you are starting to find the answers...

You're just a girl. And he… he's a boy in a strange, unfathomable way.

There are times when you think he's gone for good. But then there are other times -like when Oscar, the thick orange cat you've taken to caring for, curls up by you in a way that feels just a little too familiar. His stare, intense and watchful, feels more like an any ordinary cat.

You call him Oscar, but maybe -just maybe- you know it's him.

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[junosmindpalace]

heya, Dr. Stone headcanons of the Wise Generals' (all or any ones you prefer) sleeping habits? Pretty please🥺

i’m sooo indecisive when it comes to headcanons i just end up talking about every perspective! but i hope these are fun! sorry some of these are shorter than others </3 i had more ideas for ryusui and senku

-> SENKU:

I’m pretty sure it was shown or implied very briefly in the show, but I believe Senku is a kind of person who sleeps pretty neatly.

Maybe not like a vampire on his back with his hands crossed over his stomach, but he mostly keeps to himself; his limbs aren’t usually all over the place, and he’s probably just curled within himself on his side. 

I don’t think it’s impossible for him to splay all over, but usually he’s a pretty still sleeper. Maybe he shifts around a little, a stray arm or leg here and there, and unless it’s super hot or cold or he’s unnerved by something, he’ll mostly just stay curled within himself. 

I think it was also shown that he tends to stay up pretty late doing science related things, so maybe a little bit of a night owl, too. 

Has at least once or twice pulled an all nighter doing science related things. Sometimes he isn’t even aware of the time, and he ends up accidentally staying awake all night (which he feels the effects of full force in the morning when he has school). 

It also seems like when he’s nervous about something, he can’t rest easily, either. So most of the time he should be spending sleeping is instead used for problem solving. 

He knows that, logically, he should be investing time and effort into developing and upholding a more than adequate sleep schedule in order for him to function and continue on with his hobbies at 100%. Buuut…he’s an eager person, and, for a lot of the series, a teenager. So his sleep schedule is probably a little all over the place. 

He’s probably out sometime between 12-2am on average though; that’s typically when he starts yawning and his body starts feeling heavy. 

Usually he just ends up exhausting himself with experiments, however, and retires to bed when the words in his textbooks begin to blur by curling himself up under a blanket. 

Doesn’t mind sleeping in the dark, and doesn’t fully mind sleeping with a small light. Too much of either, however, might set him a little on edge or make it harder for him to fall asleep.

Not a deep sleeper but not a light sleeper either. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space, he’s not going to go out of his way to do anything particularly different. He’ll sleep as usual; depending on the person, he might choose to put some distance. 

If it’s with you, he may just fall asleep facing you. That’s the only notable thing. 

Overall just a generally calm and quiet sleeper. 

-> GEN:

Also similar to Senku in a lot of ways, such as in that he doesn’t sprawl around too much. 

He’s usually curled up, perhaps even more so than Senku, however, and out like a light. It’s funny for me to imagine him a deeeeep sleeper. 

But in actuality, I think he’d be an inbetween of heavy and light sleeper. When he’s nervous about something, he’s much more aware of himself and his surroundings, so the slightest off detail will have his eyes wide open. 

Usually, though, he can be a pretty heavy sleeper. Maybe a mouth breather. Maybe snores just a little (on occasion). 

Sleeps fairly regularly despite his celebrity status and being a student, or at least finds it harder to pull all-nighters. But like anyone else, he may get restless if he feels nervous about something. 

If I remember correctly, the fanbook mentioned details about his family life not being so great (either that or its some headcanons that resonated with me based on the almost sad expression he makes in reference to his family). Perhaps the exhaustion or stress from that either kept him awake or had him passing out when it came to sleep.

Maybe sleeps in somewhat of a fetus position? Wakes up with his neck killing him (projection). 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space, he might be flirty about it, depending on who you are.

Teases you slightly in every scenario, however; it only depends on what kind of jokes he's making. 

Also depending on his mood, he may start up some late night convos before heading off to sleep, usually if he’s got something on his mind.

In the same bed, I think he would want to be cuddly, but just wouldn’t be able to handle the sweat and discomfort I think, so he goes back over to his side fairly quick.

Has a thousand alarms for the morning because he has a tendency to sleep in or immediately fall back asleep when he wakes up.

-> RYUSUI: 

I can imagine Ryusui’s sleeping habits going either way.

On the one hand, Ryusui can be a pretty deep sleeper. With his pampered lifestyle, he probably has heavenly bedroom accommodations; luxury bed, high brand pillowcases and mattresses and what not. He also doesn’t have very many worries in his life. So he probably sleeps like a rock at night. I can also see that deep sleep habit occurring even in the stone world, much to everyone’s disgust.

At the same time, Ryusui can be weirdly alert. Perhaps this would be more so stone world, but I can see him being disturbed by small changes in the environment and waking up to them.

His sleeping schedule may also be all over the place, but generally organized and well kept up. I imagine that he doesn’t fall asleep too late. 

He does occasionally pull an all-nighter if he’s working on something of his, however. When his mind is set on something, sometimes he can get caught up in it. 

Francois’ character profile lists events pre-petrification, saying they developed “a special drink for Ryusui, who has little time for sleep, to help him recover from fatigue after a short night's sleep.” I forget if context is ever given for this, but it sort of implies Ryusui doesn’t sleep a lot. So the all-nighters may be more frequent than expected. 

Either way, he’s probably one of the first people awake at any time, around maybe 5-6am. He likes to spend his days being productive, so no matter what, he’s typically up bright and early, no matter what time he goes to sleep at. 

I can imagine him with a somewhat firm expression while he sleeps, again, mostly during stone world. The lifestyle sort of toughens him up, makes him a bit more on edge constantly. It’s reflected in his face while he’s sleeping, mouth firm, eyebrows furrowed. He may also have this kind of face while he sleeps pre-stone world too, however, almost like he’s always in a perpetual state of slight unease despite his optimism. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space with another person, he probably tries to be mindful of differing sleeping schedules…but either way, he might accidentally wake you with crashes depending on what he’s doing.

If he’s with you in bed though, I think he might like to cuddle, at least at first. Until he gets all uncomfortable and accidentally pushes you away.

But you get to share in all his bed luxuries! And all of the things Francois does to help keep Ryusui awake throughout the day also extend toward you on his order. 

-> UKYO:

One of the more calm sleepers. 

He’s another person who’s, again, like Senku, in that he just lies on his side the entire night.

Doesn’t move around too much when he’s sleeping, maybe just to readjust his blanket or whatnot. At most, he’s just repositioning himself to be more comfortable.

I think he too would have a bit of a firm face when he sleeps. 

He may like to hold something when he’s sleeping. It’s usually just the pillow he’s sleeping on top of, but sometimes he might yank it down enough so it's almost like he’s holding it to his chest. 

Also maybe curled up in somewhat of a fetal position, also wakes up with a killer neckache on occasion. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space with someone, he probably just sticks to his side of the bed. 

Doesn’t mind cuddling, but like most people, that probably just means you’ll break away later in the evening when the two of you fall asleep. 

Might try to watch shows and movies he’s wanted to catch up on only to fall asleep curled up on the couch (you don’t have the heart to wake him) (it's why you have a blanket on your cushions now) (more projecting).

Also may have a billion alarms, all at absurd times. He gives you an apologetic kiss on the forehead if it disturbs your own slumber.

-> CHROME: 

Ultimate mouth breather, ultimate blanket hog, ultimate BED hog (exaggeration). 

I’m mostly kidding, but out of all five, I can imagine Chrome to be one of the more chaotic sleepers. 

His leg is in the air, he’s starfishing, he’s snoring. He’s the whole insufferable package.

At the same time, however, I feel like it’d be funny if people anticipate Chrome to be such a difficult sleeper, only for him to be the exact opposite and instead sleep like a sound baby. 

I can see him being pretty hyperactive during the day and then crashing out at night so much so that he hardly moves, but mostly on days where he’s working himself to exhaustion. 

So take it either way.

If he’s sharing a space with you when he’s sleeping, he might be nervous as hell. Or if you’re a good enough friend, he’ll turn over and pass out with his leg out unapologetically no problem. 

I think for obvious reasons he doesn’t really tend to sleep with anything; no pillows or toys. 

And I also think cuddling is not a big thing. Though you might find an arm or leg tossed over you on restless nights…

If you confront him about those things in the morning, he’ll deny them endlessly.

[earthlybeam]

Could you do elves with parter reader (established relationship but a new one) where the reader isn't used to being treated with kindness. Like maybe they were in an abusive relationship before that they haven't really opened up about and how the elves would react to them flinching/ expecting them to be angry over normal things/ being shocked at being treated with normal decency etc

Could you do this with Cirdan, Thranduil, Elrond and Gil galad

Thanks and love you work !!!

Thank you so much for your thoughtful and encouraging words, They truly mean a lot and are deeply appreciated. ❤️‍🔥🥺✨

Gil-Galad, Thranduil, Elrond, Cirdan version below.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

The realization comes suddenly, like a cold hand gripping your chest. A mistake—small, perhaps, but still a mistake. You’ve forgotten something. An errand, a meeting, a task he had entrusted to you, and in the rush of the day, it had slipped from your mind completely. Your breath hitches. Your hands grow cold.

You stop where you stand, heart hammering, as if the very walls of Lindon might close in around you. A familiar dread coils in your stomach, tightening with each passing second. He will be disappointed. He will not say it outright—no, not in anger. But he will remember. He will store it away, bring it up later in those small, insidious ways that linger beneath the surface of kind words. A passing remark, a quiet sigh, a subtle reminder that your fault has not been forgotten.

You have lived this before. A breath stumbles out of you, and you brace yourself, already reaching for an explanation before he even knows there is something to forgive. “I—I’m sorry,” you blurt out, your voice too fast, too unsteady. “I didn’t mean to forget, I just got caught up in something, and I—” The words tumble out before you can stop them, desperate to explain, to preempt the reaction you fear is coming.

Gil-galad, who had been reading at his desk, looks up at the sound of your voice. His expression is calm, steady. He studies you with quiet intent, his sharp eyes missing nothing. But there is no flicker of disappointment, no tightening of his jaw or brief falter in his movements that might betray frustration.

You wait for it anyway. You wait for the sigh, the weary remark that will sit like a stone in your chest for days. For the cool silence that will follow, an unspoken reminder of your failure. You wait, body rigid, heart thudding in your ribs like a trapped bird. But it does not come. “It is forgotten,” he says simply. His voice is even, untroubled, as if the mistake itself holds no weight. “There is nothing to apologize for.”

For a moment, you do not understand the words. They should bring relief, should allow you to breathe again. But instead, you remain tense, caught between the instinct to defend yourself and the unsettling kindness before you. Your mind races, searching for the hidden edge in his tone, the faintest sign that his patience is not infinite.

Gil-galad sees it. His brow creases—not in irritation, but in something softer, something almost pained. Slowly, deliberately, he sets the book aside and rises, his movements careful, measured. There is no sharpness, no sudden motion to startle you. “Do you think so little of my love that you expect me to hold this against you?” His voice is gentle, but beneath it is something else—something deeply sorrowful.

You freeze. You do not know how to answer. He watches you—not with judgment, not with disappointment, but with the quiet understanding of someone who has long known how to read between the lines. He does not press, does not demand an explanation. But the way his head tilts, the way his hands remain at his sides rather than reaching for you—he knows.

“Love is not a tally of mistakes,” he murmurs, his voice a steady anchor against the storm in your mind. “It is not a weapon to be wielded against you.” The words land somewhere deep within you, in a place long locked away, where love had always been a thing to be earned, a fragile thing that could be taken away with the slightest misstep. You had been taught that love was conditional, that affection came with rules and unspoken debts.

But here he stands, telling you otherwise. He sees the wariness still clinging to you, the shadow of past wounds that have not yet faded. And he does not push them aside, does not try to pry them from your grasp before you are ready. Gil-galad exhales softly. Then—without hesitation—he reaches for your hands.

His touch is warm, grounding. He does not hold too tightly, leaving room for you to pull away if you wish. But when his thumbs brush lightly over your knuckles, his touch is firm, reassuring. “You are allowed to forget things, meleth nin.” His voice is low, steady. “You are allowed to make mistakes. I will not use them to wound you.”

Your breath wavers, something tightening in your throat. You want to believe him. Want to trust that love could be something as steady, as unwavering as the warmth of his hands against yours. “I do not know how to unlearn it,” you confess, the words barely above a whisper.

Gil-galad does not waver. His hold does not tighten, nor does he let go. Instead, he nods, as if this is the answer he expected. “Then let me show you,” he says, his voice filled with quiet certainty. And he does. Not just with words, but with actions. He never brings it up again. There are no lingering remarks, no subtle reminders, no shift in how he treats you. His affection does not wane, his patience does not fray. He does not make you prove yourself worthy of his love. He teaches you—not with grand gestures or sweeping declarations, but with something far simpler. With love that does not count your mistakes.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The evening air was cool, laced with the scent of the ancient trees that surrounded Thranduil’s halls. The gentle rustling of leaves in the canopy above created a soft, whispering symphony, and the glow of candlelight flickered against the polished stone walls of his private chambers. It was a quiet moment, one of the few where neither of you felt the need to speak. The weight of the world, the duties he bore, and the shadows you carried—none of it mattered here, not in this fragile bubble of peace.

You sat beside him, the warmth of his presence a steady thing at your side. This was still new, this closeness, and you found yourself treading carefully, as if one wrong step might shatter whatever it was that had begun to form between you.

Your gaze wandered, drawn to the way the candlelight caught in his hair, a silver cascade that gleamed like moonlight against his pale skin. There was an effortless regality about him, a quiet power in the way he carried himself. He looked untouchable, as eternal as the trees of his kingdom, and yet, here he was, close enough to reach for—if only you dared.

And then, without thought, he reached for you. A simple thing, an unthinking gesture—his hand lifted toward your face, fingers poised to brush aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen against your cheek. But before his fingertips could make contact, before you could even register what was happening, instinct took hold. You flinched. It was slight, barely a flicker of movement, but enough. The tension in your shoulders, the way your breath caught, the brief tightening of your jaw—you knew it was there, and worse, so did he.

Thranduil’s hand froze midair. His fingers, mere inches from your skin, lingered for a heartbeat too long before he withdrew, slow and measured, as though unwilling to startle you further. The shift in his expression was barely perceptible, but you saw it—the way his sharp, piercing gaze darkened, not in offense, but in realization.

Your stomach twisted. Foolish. You knew better. You had spent years perfecting the art of keeping such reactions hidden, of swallowing them down, of smoothing your features into something unreadable. But the body was treacherous, bound by instinct rather than reason. And now, you had given yourself away. You cursed yourself silently.

“I—” The word barely left your lips before you stopped, swallowing hard. What could you even say? That it was nothing? That it was a reflex? That he shouldn’t make something of it? He had seen the truth, and worse, he had understood it. The silence that stretched between you was not an empty one. It was heavy, weighted with something unspoken, something neither of you were quite ready to name.

Thranduil was not a man who acted carelessly. He did not fill silences with meaningless reassurances or rush to smooth over uncomfortable truths. He was deliberate in all things, and so, when he finally spoke, his words carried the weight of careful consideration.

“Who made you expect pain from something so gentle?” His voice was soft, but beneath it lay something sharper, colder—not toward you, never toward you, but toward the memory of whoever had instilled this reflex into you. The question settled like a stone in your chest.

You did not answer. Not immediately. Because how could you? You had spent so long swallowing the past, convincing yourself it was behind you, that it did not matter anymore. And yet, here it was, surfacing in a single, involuntary movement. It was humiliating, infuriating, and worst of all, undeniable.

Thranduil did not push. He did not demand explanations or force you to meet his gaze. He only waited, his patience as vast as the ages he had lived. Your hands curled into your lap, fingers pressing into your palms. “I—” The words tangled in your throat, a bitter knot of hesitation. You wanted to say it was nothing, that it didn’t matter, that he shouldn’t look at you like that—with understanding, with pity. But you could not force the lie past your lips.

His gaze remained steady, unwavering. And then, with the same deliberate care he always carried, he reached for you again. This time, there was no suddenness to it. No movement quick enough to startle. His hand moved downward instead of toward your face, his fingers brushing against your own, resting lightly atop your hand. A touch so careful, so measured, it was almost weightless.

But it was there. And it was yours to accept or to pull away from. You let out a slow breath, forcing your shoulders to relax, the tension unwinding just enough. You did not pull away. His hand lingered, warm against your skin, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a single, quiet motion. It was not meant to soothe or comfort, not an attempt to erase the past or fix what had already been done. It was simply a presence. A reminder that you were not alone in this moment.

“You are safe.” His voice was softer now, the earlier edge tempered into something quieter, something more sure. “Whatever ghosts you carry, they will find no hold here.” The words settled deep, slipping past your carefully constructed defenses before you could stop them. You had no response, no way to put into words the tangled emotions pressing against your ribs.

So you only nodded, allowing the weight of his words to settle around you. Thranduil did not ask for more. Not tonight. He did not need answers, nor explanations. He only needed you to understand one thing—he would never be a man you had to flinch from. And somehow, despite everything, you believed him.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

The library of Rivendell was a sanctuary of quiet, a haven of parchment and ink, where the scent of aged vellum mingled with the faint trace of lavender and candle wax. The golden light of late afternoon streamed through the tall windows, spilling warmth over the polished wooden floors, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering of the lamps.

You sat curled in one of the carved chairs near the window, your legs tucked beneath you, a thick, leather-bound book resting in your lap. It was peaceful here, the kind of peace you were still learning to accept, still hesitant to trust. But in Elrond’s presence, it was easier. He was steady—calm and patient, never demanding, never pressing. Even in silence, there was a quiet understanding between you, a newness to your relationship that felt like standing at the edge of something vast and uncharted. It should have been terrifying. But with him, it felt… safe.

At his desk, Elrond worked with quiet efficiency, the smooth glide of his quill over parchment the only sound breaking the stillness. He was composing a letter, his brow furrowed slightly in thought, though not in frustration. He had a way of carrying himself that spoke of wisdom and measured restraint, of power held carefully in check. With him, you never had to guess at his mood, never had to walk on uneven ground, wondering when it would give way beneath you. He was predictable in the way a river was—flowing steadily, unwavering in its course.

But then his voice rose, clear and commanding.“LINDIR!” The name echoed through the chamber, firm and authoritative, a summons rather than a reprimand. But the instant the sharpness registered, something inside you recoiled. It was not anger—your mind knew this. He was not speaking to you—you knew this too. And yet, the reaction was already set in motion before reason could intervene.

Your shoulders tensed, your hands clenching around the edges of your book. The breath caught in your throat, too shallow, too quick. A shiver ran down your spine—not from cold, but from instinct. Your heart pounded against your ribs, and in that brief, terrible moment, you were no longer in Rivendell. No longer in the warmth of the library, in the company of a man who had only ever shown you kindness. You had flinched. The moment was small, subtle—barely more than a tremor. Perhaps most would not have noticed. But Elrond did.

The sound of rustling parchment ceased. Silence settled between you, but you felt his gaze before you dared meet it. His eyes, sharp as a blade and yet impossibly gentle, flickered from your face to the rigid set of your shoulders, the way your fingers had curled so tightly around the book that your knuckles were white. You forced yourself to relax, to smooth over the moment before it could become something real. You knew how to do that—how to swallow down fear, how to dismiss your own reactions as nothing, how to pretend. “I was not angry,” Elrond said softly, his voice now a soothing contrast to the sharpness that had startled you. “Nor was my voice meant for you.”

The kindness in his tone was worse than if he had ignored it. Worse because it asked nothing of you but acknowledgment. Worse because it was patient. Worse because it saw you. You swallowed, shaking your head as if to dismiss the entire thing, trying to will your body into forgetting. “I know,” you murmured, forcing your voice into something steady, something dismissive. It was fine. It was nothing. Just a foolish reaction. You could move past it. You always had before.

But Elrond was not so easily deterred. He did not speak right away. He did not press, did not demand explanations you were not ready to give. Instead, he simply remained—watchful but not scrutinizing, steady but not imposing. And then, slowly, he extended a hand toward you. Palm up, fingers relaxed, offering rather than insisting. You stared at it for a moment.

The instinct to refuse, to pull away, was immediate. It had always been easier to deny comfort than to accept it, easier to pretend you didn’t need it. But Elrond’s patience was a quiet thing, unwavering and endless. He would not withdraw his hand if you did not take it. He would not be wounded if you refused. It was simply there, waiting, reminding you that you did not have to navigate this alone.

Tentatively, you let your fingers brush against his. His hand was warm. Steady. The contact was not possessive, not seeking to hold or control—only to anchor. The moment you accepted it, his fingers curled around yours, not to keep you in place, but to assure you that you were not lost. “I would never raise my voice in anger toward you,” he said, quiet and certain. “Nor do I wish for you to fear me.” The words settled in your chest, unfamiliar in their gentleness, in the way they asked nothing of you but to believe them. You wanted to believe them.

Your fingers tightened slightly around his, just a small shift—but it was enough. A silent acknowledgment. Not a promise that you would stop reacting this way overnight, nor that you could undo the years of conditioning that had taught you to brace for pain where there was none. But for now, in this moment, you allowed yourself to breathe. And Elrond, ever patient, simply remained at your side.

🌊 𝓬í𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷

The wind carried the scent of salt and woodsmoke through the Grey Havens, crisp and familiar, whispering across the docks where Círdan worked. The golden light of the setting sun shimmered across the waves, gilding the wooden planks beneath your feet and casting long, gentle shadows across the shipwright’s steady form. The rhythmic lapping of the tide against the shore blended with the distant cries of gulls, filling the air with the quiet hum of a world in motion—one that Círdan had known for countless ages.

You stood nearby, watching him work with quiet admiration. His hands, calloused from centuries of shaping wood and weaving sails, moved with a certainty that spoke of experience beyond reckoning. There was something soothing about the way he carried himself—unhurried, precise, as though time itself bent to his will rather than the other way around.

Beside you, a small wooden box rested on the dock, filled with nails and tools for his latest vessel. You had been lost in thought, content to exist in this moment, basking in the peace that seemed to settle around Círdan like the tide at dusk. But in your distraction, you shifted your foot too suddenly, knocking the box from its place.

The sharp clatter of nails spilling across the dock split the air like a whip crack. Your breath caught. Too loud. Too sudden. Too much. The reaction came before thought—your stomach clenched, hands jerking up in instinctive apology, heart pounding as though the small mistake carried the weight of something greater. “I’m sorry,” you blurted out, already dropping to your knees to gather the scattered nails. “I wasn’t paying attention, I—”

The words tumbled from you before you could stop them, before you could even consider if they were necessary. You braced yourself for what would come next—a sigh of exasperation, a sharp look, quiet disappointment at your clumsiness. You had interrupted him. You had caused a mess. You had— Warmth. Not anger. Not even the slightest trace of frustration. Just warmth, as Círdan’s large, steady hands covered yours, halting your frantic movements. His touch was gentle, grounding, like the solid weight of the earth beneath your feet after too long spent adrift at sea.

“There is no need for that, meleth,” he said, his voice deep and steady as the waves beyond the harbor. His thumbs brushed lightly over your fingers before he withdrew, kneeling beside you with the same unshaken calm he always carried. “It is a small thing.”

But it did not feel small. Not to you. You swallowed hard, forcing your breath to steady, but the tightness in your chest remained. “I wasn’t thinking. I—I’ll be more careful next time.” Círdan’s keen eyes studied you, the depth of his gaze seeming to pierce through layers you had carefully built around yourself. When he spoke again, there was no scolding, no chastisement—only quiet understanding, something deeper than mere sympathy. “You apologize often,” he observed, his tone absent of judgment. Your fingers curled slightly around one of the fallen nails. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know.” He picked up a few of the scattered nails himself, placing them back into the wooden box with slow, deliberate movements, as though to show you there was no urgency, no cause for distress. “But there is no fault here. No harm done.” You nodded, but the familiar knot in your chest did not loosen. You knew he meant his words. Knew, logically, that he was not merely placating you, not holding back irritation that would emerge later. And yet—your body still braced for something that would never come.

A sigh left Círdan’s lips then, but it was not heavy with frustration. No, it was something softer. Something knowing. “I have done the same,” he admitted after a pause. His voice, usually so steady, carried a thread of something distant—something old, something worn but not broken. You glanced up at him in surprise. “You?”

He nodded, his gaze drifting for a moment toward the western horizon, where the sun’s light met the endless sea. “A long time ago, I apologized for things that did not need apology. For staying behind when my heart longed for the West. For burdens that were never mine alone to carry.” He turned his eyes back to you then, ancient and fathomless as the waves. “But those who loved me did not ask for my apologies. Just as I do not ask them from you.”

Your throat felt tight again, but this time, it was not from fear. Círdan reached for your hands once more, slower this time, giving you the choice to pull away if you wished. You did not. You let him take them, let his warmth settle over you like the tide washing away the debris of a long, storm-ridden shore.

“You do not need to apologize for existing,” he murmured, pressing his palm gently against yours. “Nor for small things that do not trouble me. You are not a burden.” It should have been simple. It should have been easy to believe. But the weight of those words, the sheer certainty in them, settled deep inside you like the first breath of fresh air after years spent beneath heavy waters. Círdan did not rush you to answer. He did not demand that you believe him in an instant. He only gave you time. And for the first time, you let yourself consider the possibility that he might be right.

[jjkamochoso]

You Look Good in Green

Fluff

Gen Narumi x gn!reader

Request from Wattpad: Gen sees you speaking with Soshiro Hoshina and becomes jealous!

Warnings: none

It was always an interesting time when Third Division visited the Ariake base. The rivalries between members led to lots of banter and a renewed sense of pride for being in the First Division; it was like you all got even closer in the presence of your peers-turned-competitors. Nothing was more entertaining, though, than the roast sessions—er, conversations—between Third Division’s Soshiro Hoshina and your very own Gen Narumi.

“I don’t remember inviting a beady eyed brat onto my base,” snarked Gen upon seeing Soshiro, who was smirking as he approached your captain.

“Oh? Well, it’s a good thing you’re not in charge then,” Soshiro replied coolly. Gen was practically growling at the man, his nemesis never failing to push his buttons.

“Nice to see you again, Vice Captain,” you greeted, trying to maintain the peace and take the heat off Gen for a little bit.

“Now that’s a face I love seeing! How are you holding up over here, L/n? Gettin’ tired of being under the command of this dummy yet?”

Soshiro burst out in laughter at his own joke, holding his stomach and wiping the tears that formed in the corner of his eyes. Gen’s eye started twitching rapidly and you knew it was time to wrap this up before things got too out of control.

“May I show you the way to the conference room, Hoshina?”

“First class treatment from First Division? Never thought I’d see the day. See ya later, Narumi!”

Soshiro waved, grinning widely as you led him away from an annoyed Gen. The captain wasn’t too keen on you spending alone time with the unwelcome visitor, not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t want his partner to go through the horror of having to talk to Hoshina. Gen moped all the way back to his room, hoping to find comfort in a video game or two… or three. He was looking forward to spending a slow morning with you by his side, but now that you were preoccupied elsewhere, he was left to his own devices (literally). As he turned on his BS5, he heard his phone ding with new text messages.

Y/n: somehow got wrapped up in this meeting🙃🔫 won’t be out of here for awhile

Y/n: don’t have too much fun without me🥺🫶

Gen: good luck dealing with the bowl cut baby🥣

You sent a laughing emoji and a thumbs up and Gen knew you were busy at that point so he threw himself into the virtual world in front of him, eager to occupy his mind for the time being. Even while on a winning streak that would normally make him ecstatic, he couldn’t help but fret about how friendly Hoshina was to you. You two were supposed to be mortal enemies, the rivalry between First and Third Divisions running deep, yet you got along quite well. It was enough to make Gen sick to his stomach witnessing you greet Hoshina with kindness and a friendly smile. Your smiles were supposed to be reserved for him and him only, not some cocky Third Division jerk.

Am I jealous?

He snorted.

No way, that would be beyond lame. I just don’t like seeing them together at all. I’m looking out for y/n’s sanity, that’s it. I’m totally chill.

That’s what he convinced himself, at least, but the controller being clutched within his white knuckled grasp begged to differ.

After a few hours, many video games won and lost, and copious amounts of retail therapy at Yamazon.com, Gen was finally rewarded with another message from his beloved partner.

Y/n: survived the meeting. total yapathon 🥱

Y/n: come meet me for lunch?😚🙏

Gen had never gotten up so fast in his life. He threw on whatever pair of shoes were closest to his door as he raced down the halls, excited to rescue you from the snooze fest you had been subjected to the entire morning. As he turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. There you were, standing in the doorway of the dining hall looking perfect as ever, but something was terribly wrong: Hoshina was there with you. Gen watched with his mouth agape as you laughed at something the vice captain said, your head thrown back in delight. If that wasn’t bad enough, Hoshina’s hand landed on your shoulder, an action much too intimate for Gen’s liking. His mouth snapped shut in an instant, his teeth clenched so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if a few cracked.

Soshiro Hoshina had made a grave mistake.

Blood boiling, Gen marched over to you, his feet smacking the floor and garnering your attention.

“Sorry I took so long,” you told your peeved boyfriend as he came into earshot, “we got stuck in the meeting. It was beyond boring.”

“Now that I’m here, you won’t have to worry about being bored any longer.”

Gen stood close behind you, a menacing aura emanating from him as he stared down Soshiro, who had calmly dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“Don’t worry Narumi, I kept them entertained the whole time,” the violet haired man teased, and you never knew Gen could feel so tense and bloodthirsty off the battlefield.

“That doesn’t surprise me, considering they love clowns,” he replied, his voice cracking with anger.

“Is that right?” Soshiro asked cheekily, his fangs peeking out. “No wonder you two are dating.”

That was your cue.

“Great talk, Hoshina, thanks for keeping me company. Gen and I are going to eat. I trust that you can find your way out of here?” you asked, softly placing your fingers around Gen’s wrist to stop him from lunging at the cackling vice captain.

“I can. Catch up with you kids later!”

Soshiro walked away, leaving you to deal with a very grumpy Gen.

“Kids? Aren’t we all around the same age?”

You were trying to lighten the mood but Gen didn’t answer you. He barely gave you a second glance as you filled your trays with food and you were starting to worry about what had gotten into him.

“Talk to me, Narumi. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe Hoshina was right in calling us kids if you’re gonna act childish.”

“‘M not childish,” he grumbled, pushing food around his plate.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re pouting right now.”

“According to you, I’m always pouting.”

“And you’re always childish.”

He rolled his eyes but sighed in resignation. “Okay, you got me there.”

You smiled, nudging him with the blunt end of your chopstick. “Spill. I wanna know what’s going on in that handsome head of yours.”

He sighed again. “It’s stupid. Like, really dumb.”

“So, the usual?” you teased, earning a glare from across the table.

“I didn’t like Hoshina talking with you like that.”

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, like… like he’s your friend or something! Or something more,” he added quietly. What he was feeling, but wouldn’t admit on his own, immediately dawned on you.

“Are you jealous, First Division Captain Gen Narumi?”

“Don’t say that so loud!” he yelled, looking around furiously. “You’re gonna ruin my cool guy reputation!”

“Sure,” you nodded, holding back a giggle. “I take that as a yes, then?”

Gen wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring at his plate again. It was quite endearing seeing him openly care so much about you and you couldn’t deny it felt kind of good having the affirmation of knowing he didn’t want to lose you to another man. However, you hated seeing him sad and stressed out for no reason.

“Gen, baby, look at me.” You took one of his hands in yours as he raised his head, your other hand carding through his floppy bangs and brushing them away from his eyes so he could see how serious you were being. “There’s no need for you to be jealous. You’re the only man I want, there’s no one else for me. You’re it, I promise you that.”

“I hated the way he made you laugh,” he confessed. “That’s my job.”

“Yeah he’s funny, but more in the “coworker-keeps-your-mind-off-the-lame-meeting” sort of way. You’re much funnier.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

You raised his hand to your lips, brushing them across his knuckles as you gave them little kisses. “I could never lie to a pretty face like yours.”

“Ugh, you’re gross,” he complained, turning his head from your view, but you could tell he took your words to heart with the shy smile and light blush on his face he was trying to hide.

“Eat up,” you told him, getting back to munching happily on your meal, “you gotta be energized to be a worthy opponent for me to take on in whatever video game we’re playing for the foreseeable future.”

Gen broke out into a mischievous grin. “You have it all wrong. I’m gonna kick your ass!”

You watched him shovel food into his mouth at an alarming rate as he filled you in on the progress he had made in his earlier gaming session. He then told you about the ridiculous amounts of online purchases that were making your own credit card weep from your pocket.

“I even bought a dartboard,” he said, his eyes gleaming with joy. “I can’t wait to put a picture of Hoshina’s stupid face on it.”

Yep; Gen Narumi was all yours.

[stellari-s]

Haiii! I saw your request were open, can I request a childhood friend!Ithaqua x gn reader that had been searching for him after his mother's death? Thank u so muchh if you were ok to doing thisss :'>

💐

hi, anon! i tried to put a (hopefully) nice spin on it. so, i hope you enjoy 🥺

request; yes, by anon! requests are (semi) open, but there is a queue and requests may take a while.

wc; 1 105.

tags; childhood friend! ithaqua x gn! reader, a bit of angst, ithaqua doesn’t actually show up, but he’s there, fluffy memories, could be platonic or romantic.

summary; in loving memory of the victim — your friend’s mother — of an unknown incident, you put flowers in front of that house every year. and… it appears you are not the only one who remembers.

“ah, (y/n)! it’s so good to see you — i was expecting you, in fact.”

with a small ring of a bell, you were welcomed with a hearty voice from within the store. the moment you stepped in, the fragrance of various flowers intermingled together, tickling your nose to the point you had to pause where you were at just to adjust.

you didn’t normally go to flower shops, even though you routinely visited it once a year, so you had never truly gotten used to its thick scent.

“when it comes to the smell, the only thing that makes me dizzier is the scent of perfumes,” you muttered.

if the owner of the shop heard you, she made no such signs. it was as though you had said nothing at all as she smiled. “well? do you want the usual bouquet?”

the usual…

just how long had it been, for the bouquet you asked for to become ‘the usual’? how long had it been, for the owner to remember exactly what you ask for, despite visiting merely once a year?

“yes.” you threw her a small nod and a smile. “the usual, please.”

“coming right up!”

you waited around at the entrance, occasionally stealing glances at the other flowers scattered around the shop — on the ground, the tables, and hanging in pots from above.

“have you finally shown interest in some other flowers?”

“whoa!!” your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest up to your throat as you jumped backward, seeing the owner right before you.

the owner, too, looked shocked. albeit for a different reason. “…am i a ghost to you or something?”

you shook your head quickly. “n-no, just looking around.”

“and? did anything catch your eye?”

“my eye…”

recomposing yourself from the shock with a couple of deep breaths, you looked around. your eyes scanned through all the vividly colorful flowers, but they stopped on a certain batch.

among the flashy colors and large petals, this batch looked quite humble in comparison, and it made your scanning gaze freeze for a second. noticing this, the owner followed the direction of your gaze to the flowers your eyes had fixated on — they were small, five-petaled flowers, a light, almost baby blue in color.

“ah,” the owner nodded as she continued, “those are forget-me-nots. you have good taste in flowers, for those to catch your eye.”

forget-me-nots… the desire not to be forgotten? i didn’t know they were called ‘forget-me-nots.’

even though you were far from a flower connoisseur, looking at them made nostalgia bubble up from the pit of your stomach, pricking your heart like needles.

“guys, come here a minute!”

you two had been playing in the small living room, working on a small puzzle together, but upon hearing the voice outside, you two glanced at each other before bringing yourselves up to your feet and shuffling outside.

there crouched a lady with a smile as warm as the sun, eyes that reminded you of the spring breeze, and long, flowing hair that that carried a gentle, earthy scent every time it danced with the wind.

she raised her arm, gesturing for us to come.

and so, you approached her.

“see, aren’t these cute flowers?”

she pointed to the five-petaled, light blue flower on the ground. it was relatively small, and it must have been hard to spot, but you had always felt the lady before you, your friend’s mother, was quite in tune with the nature around her. she always seemed so… at home.

“what are these called, mama?” your friend tilted his head, his light blue eyes fixed on the small blue flowers.

“they are called—”

“forget-me-nots are commonly given to those you are parting with, maybe for a short time, or maybe for a long time,” the owner explained, “to send a message that you would like for them to remember you, in the good times and the bad. even if the distance is endless, the memory still binds us together.”

you couldn’t help but flash her a teasing smile next to you. “have you thought about becoming a storyteller?”

“well, i was born into a family of florists,” she replied, taking your teasing question seriously, “so, as much as i’ve thought about it, and maybe dreamed of it, i decided to become a florist in the end.”

“i guess it’s something you can’t change, then.”

a lot of things couldn’t be changed because of the whims of fate, perhaps like that incident that stole her — and him — away.

“…i guess so.”

you two exchanged wry smiles, and in the end, you had decided to buy some forget-me-nots along with your usual bouquet.

the house you used to play with Itha at was now abandoned.

the incident that had separated you two largely remained uncovered, as the church had pulled some strings to keep it all under the rug.

perhaps because that made you angry and frustrated, but you still couldn’t let go of the past.

years had passed, but you still couldn’t find your old friend. but, you had heard certain rumors that started popping up ever since the incident happened — that slight change was the only proof such a tragedy had happened.

there is nothing in the woods, but if you venture too deep, a monster in the woods would cut you down.

you approached the dusty house, now like a ruin that contained the distant memory of liveliness. at the door, you placed the bouquet and forget-me-nots together. then, you clasped your hands together and closed your eyes, sending a silent prayer to the skies above.

maybe, it was a sore last-ditch attempt to find him.

then, you left, as silently as you had come.

alone.

the following day, when you decided to take a detour and stop by that house once again (on a whim, perhaps), you couldn’t help but notice something… different.

the bouquet you had left was now gone, leaving even more forget-me-nots in place of where the bouquet was originally laid.

you widened your eyes slightly.

there is nothing in the woods, but if you venture too deep, a monster in the woods would cut you down.

if there was nothing but a monster in the woods, then who could be the one leaving these flowers behind?

you knew the answer already in the back of your mind, but with a single tear tracing your cheek, the name was kept lodged in your throat.

i miss you — i’ve always been searching for you.

we are apart right now, but please, whatever you do and wherever you are, do not forget me.

[paucubarsisimp]

Can you write something cute where reader catches a cold/flu and Alejandro Balde is there to take care of her. Alejandro makes her a chicken soup and feeds her 🥺. Always checking her fever, temperature. Reader obviously is feeling cuddly and clingy. So he puts on a movie marathon. She lays her head on his chest while ale plays with her softly. She ends falling asleep in his arms 😩😩. He whispers the sweetest things to her ex: “te amo mi princesa”

soup & snuggles

pairing: alejandro balde x reader

summary: in which alejandro takes care of you while you're sick

warnings: none!

a/n: why can't i have an alejandro rn to take care of me 😩😩

the rain had been falling all day, soft and steady, tapping gently against the windows like the world was telling you to slow down. and for once, you listened. wrapped in three blankets on the couch, a hot water bottle tucked against your stomach, and a tissue box within reach, you were deep in the throes of a miserable cold.

your head was pounding. your nose was stuffy. your throat burned. and yet… it wasn’t all bad.

because alejandro was with you.

he padded into the living room quietly, wearing gray sweats and one of his cozy hoodies, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, water, and your favorite tea. his curls were still a little damp from his shower, and his face held the softest expression—one reserved just for you.

“mi amor,” he said gently, kneeling beside the couch. “you still feeling like you got run over by a bus?”

you gave a pitiful nod. “si amor,” you croaked, nose stuffy, voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled, brushing your hair off your forehead with the back of his fingers. “well, good thing your personal doctor is here.”

he pulled a thermometer from his pocket like it was a secret weapon and pressed it to your forehead. while he waited for it to beep, he leaned in and kissed your temple softly. “still warm,” he murmured. “you’re not moving from this couch today.”

“wasn’t planning on it,” you mumbled, snuggling deeper into the blanket.

he set the tray down and carefully helped you sit up, tucking a pillow behind you. “i made your mom’s chicken soup. exactly how she taught me.”

you blinked at him, touched. “you called her?”

“of course i did. i take my job seriously.” he lifted a spoon to your lips. “open.”

you let him feed you spoonful by spoonful, too tired to even pretend you didn’t love the way he was fussing over you. between bites, he wiped your mouth gently with a napkin, always checking your face, your eyes, your temperature like you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

once you’d eaten enough and sipped some tea, you let out a soft sigh and rested your head against the couch. “can we watch something?” you asked, voice scratchy. “like… a movie?”

he perked up instantly. “say less. i already know what you’re gonna pick.”

“yeah?”

“princess diaries,” he said with a smile, reaching for the remote.

you lit up—well, as much as someone could while sick. “how’d you know?”

“because i know you,” he said simply. “and mia thermopolis is your comfort icon.”

“i used to pretend i was mia when i was little,” you whispered, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“you are mia,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “except better. smarter. cuter. and you didn’t even need a makeover montage.”

you let out a sleepy laugh. “stoppp.”

“never,” he whispered, nuzzling into your hair. “you’re my princesa.”

his fingers moved slowly through your hair, curling and untangling soft strands as the movie played. you could feel the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek, the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body like your own personal heater.

he whispered to you between scenes—sweet, sleepy little nothings.

“you’re so beautiful, even when you’re sick.”

“i’d still kiss you, germs and all.”

“te amo, mi princesa.”

somewhere between mia learning to wave and joe being the silent mvp, you drifted off. your breathing slowed, your lips parted slightly, your fingers curled gently into the fabric of his hoodie.

alejandro looked down at you and smiled so softly it almost hurt. he tightened his arm around you, cradling you against him like you were made of glass.

he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for just a second longer than usual, then whispered:

“te amo más que nada. you’re everything. rest, mi vida. i’ve got you.”

and with the rain still falling, the movie still playing, and your breath warm against his skin, he stayed there—holding you like he never wanted to let go.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[emotionoitme]

under the moon

carmy berzatto x reader

final part of about a girl

masterlist

warnings: drinking & drug use (marijuana), carmy being mean, clubbing, jealousy, so much dirty talk, bdsm dom/sub undertones, oral sex (f receiving), spanking, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, choking, lots of cursing as usual

wc: 9.2k

a/n: i am so excited for you all to read this. & sorry for the slight delay, it took me a bit longer than expected to finish! thank you so so much for your continued support on this series! i genuinely never thought people would like it so much🥺 enjoy!

foster the people - under the moon

she had begrudgingly awoken the following morning, head feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton, eyes swollen and sore. the bright morning light streams through her open blinds, soaking the room in warm sun. she groans, throwing the duvet over her completely, praying her bed would open up into a sinkhole and swallow her completely. she snakes her arm out, reaching around the nightstand for her phone, pulling it back in. she had overslept about an hour, meaning she would have to heavily compromise on her morning routine and practically sprint to work if she wanted to make it on time. she considered it shortly, but ultimately pulled up her contacts app on her phone, opting to call in sick. she scrolls, the first option being carmy. she wanted so badly to hear his voice, yet her stomach drops at the thought of him, so she quickly scrolls past the contact to find sydney’s number instead. the girl hesitates for a moment, before dialing, a point of deliberation deep within her. she wanted to be as far as away from the man as she could possibly be, the thought of his mere face bringing her a feeling of anguish. on the other hand, she wanted to bear witness to his demeanor— reassure herself that he’s as affected as she is over last night’s encounter. 

he’s probably fine, she thinks to herself, lips twisted into a frown, he’s the one who didn’t want to keep it going. she tries to push the thought away, a hot pang of regret seeping through her body. she burrows deeper into the safety of her bed, tapping the icon next to syd’s contact, bringing the phone to her ear. the line rings, once, twice, three times, then a click. 

“hello?” she hears at the other end. 

“hey, syd,” she greets, groggily, “um, i'm sorry to do this to you guys, but i can’t come in today,” she explains, clarifying, “im sick, my stomach really hurts.” it was a white lie, told out of self preservation, knowing if she saw carmy’s face she surely would feel sick. she hears sydney take a breath. 

“uhh, yeah, that’s fine. we should be fine,” she assures, continuing to ask, “are you still gonna come out with us tomorrow night?” syd pushes a piece of silverware neatly into place, finishing the last table as she watches her business partner come out from the kitchen, walking towards her. 

“tomorrow night?” the girl questions, flipping her duvet off her head for oxygen. 

sydney chides her name, “tomorrow night, tina’s birthday? drinks, dancing, i’ve been telling you about it since last thursday?” glancing at her coworker, curious about who she’s talking to. sydney mouths the girl’s name to him, carmen then gesturing to ask for the phone. 

“yes, syd, thank you! i will be there. i’m sorry i’ve been so scattered this week,” she replies, sitting up out of bed. 

“you’re fine, we can unwind tomorrow,” sydney replies, mouthing “okay, okay,” to the persistently gesturing man, “here, let me put you on with carmy,” she replies, going to hand the phone to the man. 

“no!” the other line interrupts, more frantic than she meant to sound, met with silence. “i mean,” she tries to backtrack, “i don’t want him to worry about me. don’t put me on,” the girl stumbles out. 

“welll, he’s saying that he wants to talk to you… so, i don’t really have much of a choice, okay, bye!” the chipper girl quickly tells her. 

fuck, she mentally exclaims, i should’ve just gone in if i was gonna have to talk to him anyways. 

she hears her name through the line, tone questioning, as carmy takes the phone from syd. 

“hi,” she responds to his beckon, quietly. 

“you’re calling in?” he asks, holding a finger up to syd, walking towards the back office for some privacy. she tightly closes her eyes, finding her words. 

“i, uh, don’t feel good,” she responds, tone shakier than she had anticipated. the line goes silent for a minute, the girl mindlessly fiddling with a loose thread on her comforter. 

“are you avoiding me?” comes his question, catching her slightly off guard. 

“no, carmy” she quickly defends, “i don’t feel well.”

“what’s wrong?” he asks, taking a seat in his office chair. 

“my, um,” she hesitates, “my stomach hurts.” 

he’s not sure he believes her, leaning back in the chair and running a hand over his face.

“okay,” he concedes, letting out a sigh, “just, uh, take it easy today then.” he hears her hum in agreement, pausing before continuing. 

“are you going to that club tomorrow?” carmy asks her, “for tina’s birthday?” 

she dangles her legs over the edge of the bed, mindlessly kicking back and forth. 

“are you?” she asks, eager to skip out on anything besides shutting herself safely inside and maybe putting her fingers to good use to prove carmen nonessential, the memories of his touch flooding her mind incessantly. 

“i think i have to,” he responds, “i already told syd i would,” his eyes glancing back towards the open office door. she softly smiles, knowing she was in the same boat. 

“okay,” standing and walking to her closet, looking for a  club-suitable dress, “i’ll go too, then,” a small smirk in her tone. he can’t fight the smile that breaks his face, eyebrows raising slightly. 

“carmy, my phone?” he hears from the hallway, a reminder of his surroundings, his time talking with the girl running short. 

“yeah!” he yells back to the hallway, “hey, uh, feel better today, okay? i’ll see you tomorrow night,” carmy tells the girl, watching sydney walk into the office. 

“thanks, carm. bye,” she responds, the call ending shortly thereafter. she had felt slightly guilty abandoning her shift, all for the purpose of not having to be tortured with his presence, a reminder of what had transpired the previous night. their casual encounters had quickly morphed into something else within her brain, feeling a deep sense of affection towards the man, chastising herself because she had worried about this and continued anyways. 

she makes her way to the bathroom, splashing cold water over her face, the morning chill seeping through her bones. would it be so wrong for them to keep seeing each other? they were consenting adults—albeit boss and employee— both previously oblivious to the profound magnetism of their natural connection. she wanted to pursue things with him further, increasingly affected by his caring words and gestures, no longer being able to deny the twinge in her chest she gets when picturing his face. 

but she knew he didn’t want the same. 

why would he? she thought, it isn’t what he signed up for. he seemed focused on his work, like he would have limited time for a relationship.

she opted to get a few chores done around the house, taking advantage of the day off, sticking on the thought of him, though, finding herself looking through her closet for a dress with him in mind. 

—

the space is hot, crowded, alive with movement. tickets pour from the printer one by one. 

“it goes to four cousin, for the third time,” carmy scolds, “stop fucking with the tickets already,” hands busied with removing a large pot from the burner. 

“hold on, i’m fixing them,” richie argues back, clutching a mess of paper. 

carmy paces to the walk in refrigerator, grabbing a large container and making his way through the sea of bustling employees, checking on stations. he was running on fumes, only getting a solid three hours of sleep the previous night, plagued by a swarming head and uneasy stomach.

it’s best this way, he tells himself over again, easiest, hoping that if he repeats it enough times it will start to feel true. 

“alright send these out to six, please,” he hears from the front of the kitchen, glancing over at the expo, seeing the recently plated entrees. 

“fuck, richie, four!” carmen snaps, his hand flying out. 

“jesus, alright, four!” richie yells, widening his eyes, shaking his head, continuing. “calm down, carm, she’ll be back thursday,” a snicker on his face 

carmen freezes in his spot, skin beginning to burn. his eyes dart to richie, jaw twitching. 

“shut the fuck up,” he bites, venom in his tone, trying to push himself further into his work to outlet the growing frustration. he hears the other man chuckle knowingly, glancing at carmen. 

“okay, sore spot!” richie pokes, organizing the last few tickets, smile on his face. the chef doesn’t reply, beginning to quickly chop vegetables, unsure of what would slip off his tongue if he opened his mouth. 

it was unclear to him why he was unable to regulate himself when it came to someone even mentioning her, figuring it was temporary, and would slowly dissipate once they had some distance from each other. carmy deeply exhales, glancing at the clock, counting down the hours until he would be able to see her again. 

—

it was incredible how fast days would slip by when she didn’t have to go to the restaurant, taking care of domestic matters and recharging from the strenuous week so far, not thinking of carmen.

she goes to sleep that night wearing his clothes, arms wrapped around herself as if the sensation could ever come close to his touch, waking the next morning to eagerly check a phone empty of notifications. on her second day off she works on assignments for her classes, calls an old friend and grabs herself lunch from a bagel shop nearby. upon returning home she grabs a pair of earbuds and spends a few hours outside in the sunlight, mending the cracks in her heart, falling asleep on her balcony sofa and letting the sun kiss her better. the light of the afternoon seeps into the evening, painting the city in a soft yellow blanket, the girl slowly blinking awake. she watches a few cars drive by, a warm breeze shifting the trees, slowly sitting up and stretching, checking the time on her phone. she has a few hours to get ready before meeting everyone for drinks, her body relaxing at the confirmation. her eyes glance down past the time, seeing two new messages on her screen. 

carmy: 416 s clark street

carmy: do you need a ride?

she unlocks her phone, staring at the gray bubbles for what seems like an eternity, fingers hovering over the keys. she begins to type a response, “no. gonna walk,” then quickly deletes it, knowing he would insist on driving her.  

why is he trying to be so nice still?

she feels a twinge of irritation, quickly shutting off the phone, opting to not reply to his message. he was a hard man to understand, his actions contradicting his words more often than not—declaring the two finished, then continuing to pursue contact, referring to them as a “no strings” relationship and then calling her baby and sweetheart. it was confusing more than anything, beginning to take an emotional toll on the young woman. she felt incredibly tense the past few days, mind prickling with anxieties and insecurities, desperate to feel some type of release. 

fuck him, she thinks, standing and opening her sliding glass door, going inside, i’m gonna forget about it tonight. she stalks to her closet, i’m gonna find a hot stranger and just dance, pulling out a short, skin tight club dress and holding it in front of herself, facing the mirror. she wanted him out of mind completely, settling with trying to replace his touch with someone else’s tonight no matter how much her heart objected. she puts music on, setting the dress on her bed and undresses, studying herself in the mirror for a moment before making her way to the bathroom and turning on the shower. she takes a long while to let the hot water to melt onto her skin, cherishing the white silence of the shower head. the young woman takes her time getting ready, piecing herself back together with an extensive routine. once she’s in a robe with her hair wrapped up she walks to the fridge, grabbing a seltzer with alcohol to ease the slight oncoming nerves. she meticulously does her makeup and styles her hair, shamefully wondering if carmy would like how she’s dressed up, checking her phone to see it’s time to head over. dropping her robe and zipping into the dress she had picked out for the night, the girl examines her reflection, admiring the work she had put in. she looked hot, turning to the side and checking out her profile, curves accentuated by the tight fabric. satisfied, she mists herself with perfume and grabs her heels and purse, walking to the door. she swings the heavy metal barrier open to reveal a tepid july night, air thick with moisture. she balances against the frame, slipping into her heels and sliding her purse strap over her shoulder, stepping into the dusk of the evening and letting the door lock behind her. she glances at her phone for walking directions, head slightly fuzzy from the seltzer she had drank on an empty stomach. her short walk to the club garners many gawking stares from passerby’s, surprisingly not making her feel as small as they usually seem to, the goal was to catch eyes tonight, right? 

she squints, identifying bright flickering lights in the distance, the border of the club’s sign. there were a few people dispersed outside, all either smoking or talking on the phone, or both. she brushes her hair back, walking towards the entrance when she hears her name called from behind her. 

“- yo!” turning to see marcus and angel leaning against the brick wall of the establishment. she smiles, turning and walking towards them, the distinct odor of marijuana arising from the cigarette marcus clutched in between his thumb and pointer. 

“hi,” she grins, tilling her head slightly. 

“hey,” the two respond, almost in synchronicity. marcus holds the rolled paper to her, “want some?” 

she smiles, plucking it from his fingertips and bringing it to her lips, deeply inhaling to soften the inevitable drop her stomach would endure at the sight of carmen. the ember burns quickly, and she’s surprised at the harshness. 

she hands it back with a slow exhale, thanking marcus. 

“nervous?” angel chimes in, trying to hide a smile. the girl pauses for a moment, is it so obvious? 

“i haven’t been to a club in a while,” she responds, crossing her arms. it was partially true, but she knew the real reason for the relentless fluttering in her chest. 

the man stubs the filter onto a nearby trash can, dusting his hands off on his pants. “you guys ready to go in?”

the other man affirms, pushing himself off the wall and turning to walk to the front. the girl stays behind, hesitating. 

“you two go ahead. i’m gonna air out,” she responds, leaning back, basking in the slight breeze. the men both crack a smile before walking together to the entrance, leaving the girl in her solitude. she closes her eyes for a moment, deeply inhaling the night air, listening to the reverberation of bass through the walls of the club. she feels a cloud of haze overwhelm her, the mixture of substances seeping through her in a warm glow. she hears footsteps approach. 

“hey.”

her eyes snap open, breath escaping her at the sight of carmy. he looked polished, buttoned up into a dress shirt, hair fluffy and face cleanly shaved. she nearly salivated at his presentation, the buzz she felt complicating her decision to ignore him. 

“hi,” she shortly responds, lip slightly pouted, watching as his eyes examine her, floating down her form. he snaps his eyes away, clearing his throat. 

“you, uh, get my text?” 

she nods, looking up to him, meeting his eyes with unwavering contact. he walks closer to the girl, slightly shaking his head and furrowing his brow in confusion, an unspoken gesture to elaborate. 

she looks away, arms wrapping around herself. 

“i didn’t need a ride,” she answers, “i walked.” 

carmen’s jaw visibly tightens, feeling a twinge of irritation. 

“yeah. uh, i asked because i didn’t want you walking here alone,” he explains in a slightly frustrated tone. 

“yeah, well i made it,” she retorts, aggravation bubbling beneath the surface, “so you don’t need to worry about it.” 

she didn’t know why he was getting under her skin so easily tonight, her throat suddenly feeling hot and tight, raking her eyes over the top of his chest exposed by an open button.

“well i do,” the man argues, “i don’t want you walking by yourself. anywhere,” he solidifies in a stern tone. the girl lets out a scoff. 

“you’re acting like you’re my boyfriend,” she spits, fed up with the sense of entitlement he felt over her. 

“i’m not your fuckin’ boyfriend,” he quickly asserts, tone ringing out much harsher than he intended. 

she knows this to be a fact, but still can’t help the drop she feels in her chest when he says it aloud like that. she opens her mouth to say something, then quickly closes it, biting her lip, eyes darting to the ground. he instantly regrets saying it, brushing his fingers through his hair, grabbing it, studying the girl’s dejection with a pit in his stomach. 

“whatever, carmen,” she dismisses, shoving past him. her lungs felt tight, eyes burned, mentally cursing herself, rushing to the club entrance to distance herself from the man. she shoves the door open, immediately being engulfed by sound and swarming bodies. she blinks back a few tears, deeply inhaling and exhaling, zoning into the environment. spotting the group of her coworkers at a corner table, she shufflles through the crowd to approach them. syd immediately spots the girl, calling out to her and waving. she plasters on a smile as the rest turn to watch her, all unanimously greeting the new arrival. she makes her way over to tina, hugging her and giving her a kiss on the cheek, wishing her happy birthday. she squeezes into her seat in between sydney and richie, turning to the tall man to ask, “so where’s my drink?”

richie lets out a boisterous laugh, throwing an arm around the girl.

“i don’t think you’re gonna have much of a problem getting drinks tonight, sweetheart,” he teases, as carmy approaches the table, receiving welcomes and pulling out a chair to sit. she flickers her eyes over to carmen to find he’s staring at her, quickly tearing them back away and leaning over to syd. 

“come get a drink with me. i really need it,” she pleads, placing her hand on sydney’s forearm. the other girl agrees, the two sliding out from under the table and making their way to the bar, arms linked. 

—

why did i say that? 

he watches her rush to the front entrance, his body frozen, processing the conversation. 

why did i say that?

he begins to go after her, reaching his arm out before she swiftly maneuvers the door open, slipping inside. 

why the fuck did i say that?

it wasn’t completely untrue— he wasn’t her boyfriend— something he had failed to make entirely made clear before that point. he wasn’t oblivious to the way they had grown closer, either, the thought of her nestled deeply within a sweet spot in his heart. yet he had done nothing to prevent it from happening, and once thinking of it, he finds he’s only ever done the opposite, his behavior towards the girl falling far closer to a boyfriend than a hookup. he begins following in her footsteps, opening the club door and immediately becoming overwhelmed with the number of people crowding the floor. carmy cranes his neck, watching her figure weave through the crowd and towards a corner table. he pushes through the wall of people, seeing her take her seat, approaching the table to receive greetings from his coworkers. his eyes are trained on her, wrapped into richie’s arm, smiling until she locks eyes with him. then it drops, slightly. it makes him feel sick. he turns to fak at his right and engages in conversation as he watches her rise from the table alongside sydney. she looks like a model of some type, he thinks, with dark makeup defining her striking eyes and hair tousled over her shoulder, tight black dress riding up over the skin of her thighs. he trails down her face to her neck. when she moves her hair behind her ear he can see a small purple mark left from his teeth, eyes fully fixated on the spot. the bass of the music thumps, reverberating through the club, floorboards shaking. he tries to keep up in the table’s conversation whilst simultaneously keeping a close eye on the girl, shifting to see her order at the bar through the moving bodies. she throws a shot back, grimacing at the taste, laughing while saying something to syd (he was never very good at reading lips) and raising her hand to flag the bartender once more. the table bursts into laughter, carmen’s eyes drawing back to his coworkers, watching as tina shoves richie’s hand with a smile on her face, rolling her eyes. he feels an inclination to step outside for a smoke, head buzzing with stimulation from the lively environment, wondering how long he should stay before it would be acceptable to leave. 

“oh my gosh, thank you baby,” he hears tina say, glancing over to see the girl having returned from the bar, placing a fruity drink in front of the woman. 

she smiles, returning to her seat as the current song ends, fading into the next. sydney and the girl gasp in tandem at the distinctive opening, locking eyes with each other and grinning. 

“we’re gonna go dance!” the girl excitedly calls, taking syd by the hand and navigating towards the dance floor, crowded with moving bodies. it’s hot, but fluid, the two girls beginning to move together, grinning. carmen watches her, eyes cutting through the crowd. she moves her hips, bringing her hands up her body, flashing lights illuminating her in colors. the sight was hypnotic almost, eyes trained on her, tense in his seat. she throws her hair back, circling her body, closing her eyes. 

richie leans over to him, “you, uh, sure she did just bartending over at ricky’s?” elbowing him slightly. 

carmen doesn’t respond, eyes fixated on her gyrating movements, jaw tensing, painfully aware of all the eyes she’s gathered around the club. she continues dancing after the first two songs, even when sydney makes her way back to the table in need of rest. carmy tried to not make it so obvious he was watching the girl, grateful some of his other coworkers had joined the crowd on the dancefloor, completely entranced by her movement. he tears his gaze away, standing up find the bar, eager to ease the incredible tension he felt pent up within him. she seemed to be having fun dancing, and in a way it felt refreshing to watch the girl so loose and carefree. carmy couldn’t help the sense of possessiveness he felt, though, watching her move like that, seeing the way other men looked at her, like meat. it made him sick. 

he orders a beer once the bartender makes their way over, song fading into the next. he turns to lean against the counter, eyes searching for her as he brings the bottle to his lips with a long swig. he feels a pang in his chest, as he finds her, hand on another man’s arm, leaning to whisper something in his ear. he closely watches as the man smiles, nods, placing his hands on her hips and getting closer to her. carmen’s skin immediately becomes hot, teeth clenching, taking a deep breath through his nose to try and calm himself. 

what the fuck is she doing? 

his eyebrows furrow, watching as she dances, bringing her arms up, turning, moving against the stranger. he feels physically sick, stomach churning at the way this man was touching her navel, hips, pressing himself to the back of her. carmy tightly grips the bottle, unable to rip his eyes away, the girl glistening in the light. she throws her head back against the man’s shoulder, hair draping over him, grinding to the music. her eyes find carmen’s quickly, intentionally locking gazes as she brings the strangers hands higher, up her waist, ribs, her mouth falling opening. carmen stands, knocking the barstool off balance with the force of his movement, shoving through the crowd, disregarding the dirty looks, quickly making his way to the dance floor. he grabs the girl’s wrist, pulling her from the stranger’s grasp, tightly gripping her as he walks towards the back door, dragging her behind him, feeling the struggle of her arm as she tries to pull away. he turns, putting a hand on her lower back, ushering her through the club, shoving the heavy metal door open and bringing her outside, finally letting go when the two are far from the door. he brings a hand to his hair, grabbing, turning to face the girl. 

“what the fuck, carmen?” she yells, ripping her hand away from him, “what’s your issue?” her words slightly under-enunciated. 

he bites down on his lip, meeting her eyes, hand coming to his hip. he hardly had an explanation for the girl, driven by a redhot primal jealousy, blood boiling at the sight of someone else’s hands on her, grabbing, feeling her like that. 

“what’s my issue?” he scoffs, “why the fuck were you dancing like that?” his face reddening, pulse quickening. she lets out a laugh, leaning back against the wall, gazing up at him. 

“why?” she asks, “are you jealous?” 

he shakes his head, unconsciously stepping closer to her.

“i’m not jealous,” he argues, jaw set firmly, eyes casting down onto her. 

“yeah?” she leans forward, further closing the distance between them. he nods, fixated on the droop of her eyes, the part of her lips, the way she looked up at him through her dark lashes. 

“so what if i fuck him?” she asks softly, a smirk playing on her lips, “will you be jealous then?” 

he lets out a breath, fire growing at her words.

he shakes his head, “you’re not gonna fuck him,” asserting with confidence. she tilts her head, alcohol emboldening her. 

“how do you know?” she challenges, well aware of how affected she was by his tone, his demeanor, the look in his eyes. carmy gets closer to her face. 

“because he’s not gonna fuck you like i do,” his voice deep, low, eyes boring into hers with an intensity that lights her core ablaze. the girl finds her breath hitches, mouth going dry, gaze flickering to his lips. he rests his hand on the brick behind her, leaning closer, “hear all those pretty sounds you make.” 

she shuts her eyes tightly, trying to shake her senses of the overwhelming lust she felt. she was supposed to stay angry at him, he was being an asshole. maybe it was the alcohol or the drugs, or the way he towered over her, but she felt no anger, only replaced by want, a slick ache growing at the way he seems to claim her for himself. she takes a deep breath, body feeling as if it were buzzing, head cloudy. 

“you are so fucking confusing,” she whispers, bringing her forehead to lightly touch his. he rests his hand on her lower back, relishing in the warmth of the contact, breathing in her scent. she was completely right about him, he thinks, never saying what he really means to her. if he could have what he really wanted, she would be his, only his. a girlfriend. 

“yeah,” he takes a shaky breath, “yeah. i know,” reply coming, hesitantly. “i’m sorry, -” he breathes out, her name sounding sweet on his tongue. she blinks away the tears that want to form, grabbing the fabric of his shirt, a small tremble of the lip. she opens her mouth to say something, eyes tearfully meeting his. 

the metal door creeks open, momentarily releasing the booming music out into the alleyway, breaking the trance as a few smokers congregate by the back. the girl changes her mind, mouth shutting. she releases his shirt, pulling away, stepping around the man and smoothing her appearance, pads of her fingers coming to dry a few escaped tears. he watches her try and compose herself, shivering in her small dress. his heart clenches, feeling the overwhelming need to take care of her— wrap his arm around her, lead her back to his home, dress her in more of his clothes and watch her fall asleep. he shrugs off his light jacket, walking over to her and draping it over her shoulders without saying anything. she glances up at the man, engulfed by his warmth and the smell of him, ache in her chest. 

“i’m gonna go home,” she whispers, swaying slightly. 

“let me walk you,” he offers, hand coming to her upper back. she quickly shakes her head, taking a step away from him. 

he sighs at her stubbornness, says her name. 

“you’re drunk,” he observes, “let me make sure you get there okay.” 

she hiccups, crossing her arms. 

“ ‘m not drunk,” she slurs unconvincingly. he nods, letting out a breath, hand coming to rub his face. 

“okay,” he concedes, “then, just… go back in with me for a sec. say bye to everyone.” 

she meets his eyes, consideration running over her features, then nodding slowly. he puts his hand on the small of her back, steadying her as they walk back towards the large metal door. there’s a noticeable change in temperature difference as the two enter the club again, weaving through a sea of moving bodies, carmy holding tightly onto her, ushering her forward towards the corner table. he doesn’t miss the glances from his workers at the sight of the girl wearing his jacket, a few smiles cracked, looks exchanged. he ignores it, picks his beer back up as the girl excuses herself from the event, claiming to not feel good and chalking it up to drinking too much when she usually doesn’t partake. richie, surprisingly, says nothing, eyes trained on carmen, smirk plastered over his face. 

“i’m gonna head out too,” carmy announces, “take her home.” 

richie begins loudly laughing, clapping his hands together. 

“jesus christ, i am right about everything!” he shouts, slamming his glass down onto the table. carmen’s skin begins to prickle with embarrassment. 

“hey richie,” he chimes, “shut the fuck up.” he felt unbearably tense tonight between the day’s grueling shift, the girl dancing on another man, the newfound teasing, as if he were about to implode. he was in desperate need of some sort of release. carmy watches her, tightly clad fabric stretching over her ass as she leans down to give tina a hug. he felt guilty, almost, the way he had been shamelessly gawking at her throughout the night, the act doing nothing but intensify the burning he felt bottled up within him. 

“i’m sorry i’m leaving so early, t,” he hears from her mouth, “i don’t feel very well.” 

the older woman brushes the apology away, placing a kiss on the girl’s cheek. 

“feel better, baby,” she coos, looking to carmen, “jeff, you make sure she gets into bed okay,” the command motherly in tone. he nods, coming to give tina a side hug, “ ‘night, t. happy birthday.”

—

the sidewalk pavement was in dire need of repair, cracks and bumps literally the surface, worsening the walk for people who weren’t drunk. she stumbles over a divot, instinctively grabbing onto carmy’s arm for balance, heels catching on every small crevice. she lets out a cry of frustration, stopping in her tracks. 

“this is impossible,” she exclaims, reaching down to adjust the strap of her heel, “why don’t they fix this stupid street?” 

he can’t help the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards. she was cute, even in her frustration. he crouched, slightly, leaning over, arms out. 

“c’mere,” he tells her, “jump up.” 

she falters, trying to retain independence in her drunken stubbornness, but ultimately accepts, the other option being continually tripping over herself for another mile. she puts her hands up on his shoulders, using him as leverage to boost herself up, his arms coming to wrap around the backs of her thighs. he hears her squeal, slightly, feeling as she pulls the short dress down to cover the curve of her ass. the man grits his teeth, shaking the mental image of it as he tightly grips the supple skin of her upper thighs. she’s easy to carry, surprisingly so, as he continues walking in the direction of her apartment building. a silence settles between the two of them, breaths falling in line with the gentle rhythm of his steps. she wraps her arms around him further, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder, exhale tickling his neck. he clears his throat, glancing back at the girl, seeing her closed eyes. 

“i, uh,” he hesitates, gathering his thoughts, “i fuckin’ hated seeing that guy touch you,” the confession slipping off of his tongue. he feels her smile slightly against his neck. 

“i knew you would,” her reply comes softly. he lets out a small scoff, humored by what she admits. 

“you’re a brat,” he asserts lowly, pressing his fingers into her skin. she splays her arms out, pushing her chest against his back, hand coming to rest on his bare collarbones. 

“you were being a dick,” her words ringing truthfully, resounding throughout the man, feeling a pang of guilt. 

“yeah. i know,” he agrees, eyes fixed forward, “i’m sorry.” carmen lets a cloud of silence engulf the two before vocalizing again. 

“you know, i… really do wanna be with you,” he admits gently, soul bared. she pauses, soaking in his words, feeling almost as if a puzzle piece had been pushed into place. 

“why not?” her question comes soft, sweet. he lets out a deep breath. 

“you know why,” he quietly replies, the street lamps casting their two shadows as one. she does know why, aware of the sly glances the two received, apparent judgment surrounding a relationship with the power imbalance of theirs. 

“well, i quit then,” she pouts, lips brushing against his skin, erupting him in goosebumps. he shakes his head. 

“you can’t,” comes his rejection, “we need you,” expressing the fact with utmost sincerity. she hugs her arms around him tighter, smelling his cologne, his soap, a faint trace of cigarette smoke. 

“i don’t care,” she protests in all of her stubborn glory, “i wanna be yours, carm.” 

he feels himself surrender at her words, pulling her even closer. 

“you’re mine,” he assures her, glancing back to meet her eyes, nodding, feeling warmth as if a bright light glowed from his chest. they can figure out the details later— he genuinely didn’t want her to quit, trying to remind himself it was the only way their relationship would be ethical. the man slows in pace as they approach the front of her building, letting the girl hop down, holding his hand out to steady her once her feet make contact with the ground. she gives a small smile, intertwining her arm with his, hand coming to rest on the mass of muscle as the two make their way to her building. she clutches onto him in her inebriated state as they scale the tall stairs leading up to her door. she fumbles with her keys, eventually unlocking the deadbolt and pushing the door open. she turns to face him, giving him sort of a puppy dog look, hoping he’ll want to follow her in. a smile breaks his face, studying her expression. 

“i, uh, gotta make sure you get in bed okay,” he reminds her, gesturing inside. she grins, taking his hand, pulling him inside and shutting the door. the space was illuminated with strung lights, warm in hue, mystifying the room. he takes a deep breath, wrapped in her intoxicating scent, eyes scanning the room. he primarily notices how pristine it is, cozy, fragments of her soul framed over the walls and resting on shelves. it felt like a home, more than his ever has. she sets her keys and purse on a side table, kicking off her heels and sighing in relief, trudging to the kitchen to retrieve two glasses of water. when she hands it to him he can’t help but stare, focusing on her face, the ache for her insurmountable to anything he’s ever wanted before. he sets the glass down, hand coming to her lower back, deeply looking into her, past her beauty and towards her essence. he watches as her eyes flicker down to his lips, quickly coming back to meet his gaze. he’s in awe of her, almost, bringing both hands to the small of her back, squeezing her slightly, pulling her to him with ease. she lets out a breath at the action, hand coming to his forearm, feeling the flex of his tendons. he wants her all to himself, he thinks, leaning in towards her, raising his hand to cup the side of her face. she leans into the touch, turning, pressing a kiss to the base of his thumb, bringing her other hand to rest on his, biting the skin. he grasps her face at this, shoving his thumb into her mouth. 

“suck,” he commands, voice low, watching in anticipation as she brings her lips around the digit, tongue circling eagerly, trying to take more of it into her mouth. he nearly falls apart at the sight, twitching, pulling her flush against him, dragging his thumb out of her mouth and over her bottom lip. he drops his hand to touch her neck, watching her lips, hearing his heart pound in his ears. she brings her grip to clutch onto his shirt, heavily breathing. he cherishes her expression, cheeks flushed and lips parted, glistening. carmen tightens his hand around her throat very slightly, leaning in to taste her, his lips gently pressing against hers, hearing her moan at the unexpected contact. she’s sweet, soft, eager, the slightest trace of alcohol on her lips. he hadn't realized how much he had been craving her taste until it graced his tongue, feeling almost as if a tension in him had alleviated. he wants more, tattooed fingers wrapping around her neck, pulling her into him, deepening the kiss. she melts into him, trying to keep up with the ferocity of his kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth. he groans, bringing his hand from her back to the curve of her ass, feeling, squeezing, pulling her in. he takes his hand off her throat, her leg slightly lifts, and he takes the opportunity to hoist it up over his hip, turning and pressing her into the counter, weight of his body against hers. it feels as if something had snapped within him, wanting to claim her all to himself, grabbing whatever he can of her, getting as close as possible, lips, tongues dancing in tandem. he presses a few slow kisses to her mouth, pulling away, forehead coming against hers, eyes shut. he listens to the sound of their breath, hand on her ass, fingers teasing the hem of her panties. she arches into his touch, body tingling, hot with desire. his hand comes up, then flies back down to smack her ass, the girl takes a sharp breath, firmly gripping it again after the impact. 

“fuck,” she breathes, a hot swell in her lower stomach. he creeps his hand up the skin of her thigh, slipping under her dress, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her legs. her face grows hot at the way he takes command, shoving at the fabric until it slides down her calves and hits the floor. she steps out of them, breath shaky, drenched in anticipation, insides of her thighs growing wet. carmy gives her a final kiss before dropping to his knees in front of her, placing a few gentle kisses around her skin. she instinctively clamps her thighs at the sensation, the man bringing his hand to shove her leg to the side, exposing her glistening heat. he lets out a soft moan at the sight, closer than he’s ever been to her core, leaning forward to softly kiss her clit. the girl lets out a cry of surprise, hand flying to his head, the simple act sending a shock throughout her body. he brings his thumb and pointer finger to part her both of her lips, taking her image in, salivating slightly in anticipation. he casts his eyes up towards her face, flushed, mouth open. he leans forward, licking a long stripe up her wetness to her clit, swirling his tongue around the bud, pulling away. she pants, fingers tangled in his hair, arching towards him, wordlessly asking for more. he groans at the taste of her, a rush to his head, his cock, immediately diving in for more, lapping at her as if she’s the finest thing he’s had in his mouth. her knees begin to go weak, trembling slightly, trying to hold onto him for support. 

“carmy,” she whimpers, “i can’t stand.” 

this breaks his focus, bringing his eyes up to her with a glint. 

“yeah?” he asks, “feel too good, baby?” a smirk growing on his face. she refuses to respond, tightly shutting her eyes and throwing her head back when he brings his thumb to slowly circle her clit, watching, gauging her reaction. he pulls his hand away, placing a small smack on the inside of her thigh, the girl gasping. 

“answer me” he growls, breath tickling her mound, leaning to press a few more kisses to her swollen heat. she lets out a whine, grabbing his hair. 

“it feels- fuck it feels so good carm,” she shakily admits, knees nearly buckling. satisfied with her answer he brings both hands to the base of her ass, lifting her with ease and setting her on the countertop. she hastily grabs his shirt and pulls him in, locking lips and tasting herself on his tongue, letting a sweet sound into his mouth. he breaks away, desperate to feel her wetness on his mouth again. he kisses the inside of her thigh, then leans in, flattening his tongue against her clit, gently lapping, a finger coming to tease her pooling entrance. she unintentionally bucks her hips at the sensation, prompting carmen to bring the length of his forearm to her inner thigh, shoving it open, holding her down. she brings her eyes to his tattooed arm splaying her open, heart pounding, trying to straighten herself, awaiting his touch. he continues his gentle licks, circling his finger around her wetness, then pushing the digit into her slowly, eyes darting up to watch her mouth fall open. he swirls his tongue around her engorged clit, then gently sucks, curling his finger deeply inside of her, beginning to establish a rhythmic motion. her pants turn to cries, pulling the man in by his curls. his hand grips the skin of her thigh, spreading her open, devouring her, pushing a second finger into her. her teeth clamp down onto her lip at the sensation, gripping around his digits, trying hard to keep her composure in front of the man. carmy, aware of this, increases the pace of his movement, pulling his mouth away from her, beginning to tease her clit with a feather-like touch of his tongue. her head falls back, smacking against the cabinet, a loud moan slipping through her lips. 

“please,” she pleads, not sure for what, arching into carmen’s motion, hands grabbing whatever she can of him, the knot inside her stomach growing impossibly tight. he wants to feel her cum— clench around his fingers, see how long he can keep fucking into her until it’s too much— but he refrains, pulling his fingers out, soaked with her juices, standing up. her head jerks up to meet his eyes, panting, flushed, frustrated. 

“whyy?” she whines, trying to pull the man back to her. he lets out a scoff, smirk creeping at the edges of his lips, hands on the tops her thighs, gripping. 

“you think i’m gonna let you cum?” he asks, voice low, coming close to her face, “after that shit you pulled in the club?” 

her lip pouts, face heating at his words, held down by his weight, trying to catch her breath. the girl opens her mouth to argue back, but decides against it, just wanting to feel him— leaning forward to kiss him softly, hungrily, hands coming to feel the muscles of his chest. he melts into the kiss, hands wrapping around her back. 

“you don’t care, huh?” carmy teases between kisses, “just want me to keep touchin’ you,” pressing himself between her thighs, deepening their contact. she nods into the kiss, greedily reaching her hands down to pull his shirt up. he pulls away from her, taking it off completely, groaning as the girl runs her hands up his bare abdomen, then gently rakes her nails down, admiring the way his muscles flex under her touch. he grows a bit impatient, decides to pick her up, her legs coming to wrap around his back, carrying her to the bedroom. she grins at the way he holds her, hands gripping both of her ass cheeks, leaning down to kiss his neck in the short walk. when he drops her onto the plush duvet of her bed he leans over her, fingers grasping the side zipper of her dress, slowly pulling it down to reveal the skin of her ribcage, waist, stopping right above her hip. they lock eyes and he searches her face for any signs of hesitation, finding only blown pupils and flushed cheeks. he grabs the hem of the dress, slowly pulling it down her body to expose her breasts, waist, stomach, pelvis, letting the fabric fall over her ankles to the floor. his eyes drink her in, sparks firing in his brain, bringing his hands to grasp her waist, thumbs resting over her stomach. carmy leans in, deeply kissing her, savoring her warmth, then rises, unbuckling his belt. she props herself up onto her elbows, watching the man slowly unbutton his pants, pull the zipper down. she lets out a heavy breath at the sight of the large bulge behind his briefs, straining against the cotton, curved upwards to the right. she sits up, inching towards the edge of the bed, seated in front of the man, gazing up at him in adoration. 

“can i take these off?” she asks softly, fingers coming to hook into his briefs, pulling them slightly to reveal the deep v-line in his hips, light brown hair leading down to his covered pubic bone. her mouth was almost watering, looking up at him in anticipation. he grins at her eagerness, raising his eyebrows slightly, nodding his head, giving her permission to slip the waistband down over his hips, cock slapping against his stomach when she does so. she immediately grabs the length of his dick, heavy in her hand, giving it a few slow strokes, watching as he closes his eyes, breathing out heavily. her head feels fuzzy, wanting nothing more than for him to shove her back onto the bed and fill her completely, continuing to marvel at his thickness. he brings his hand to stroke the side of her face, fingers coming over her ear and threading through her hair, watching intently as she slowly jerks him off. she clenches her thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the growing ache, running out of patience. 

“carm,” she whines, gripping his cock, gazing up at him, handsome face framed by a few messy curls, “i want it already.” 

he lets a small smirk grace his face, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. 

“yeah?” he asks, watching the girl quickly nod, bringing his face closer to his, lowering his voice, “you know i’m gonna fuckin’ wreck you tonight, right?” 

she heats at his words, eyes widening, an expectant shiver making it’s way through her body and settling throughout her core. he doesn’t let her respond, grabbing her thighs and pulling her, back coming to the mattress, pelvis flush with his. he bends her legs into her chest, leaning over her, the tip of his cock briefly gracing her wetness before he brings his hand down to grip himself, running the tip through her slick folds, sliding up to nudge her clit. she tightly shuts her eyes, lets out a quiet moan at the sensation— almost enough to satisfy, but not quite. he continues thrusting through her folds, listening to the wet sounds, coating himself in her juices. she tries to resist the urge but she can’t, reaching down, grabbing his cock and sticking it inside of her, legs coming to wrap around his back to pull him in. 

“fuckk,” he exclaims loudly, not expecting her desperation, suddenly engulfed in her warmth. he groans, trying to compose himself, bringing his hand to her throat, leaning in, pushing his hips forward to the hilt. she whimpers, cherishing the slight burn of fullness as he tightens his grip around her throat. 

“this what you wanted?” he asks, voice gruff, fully draped over her, nuzzling a kiss under her ear. the way he speaks to her ignites a flame, emboldening her slightly. her eyes gleam. 

“no,” she breathes, “i want you to fuckin’ move,” words laced with a tone. he lets out a short laugh, straightening, grabbing both her calves and propping them up over his shoulders, drawing out of her and then quickly snapping his hips forward. she gasps, hand flying up to her mouth. she feels the ridge of his head drag against her walls as he graciously begins to thrust into her, hands wrapped around her legs, eyes coming to watch her breasts bounce in time with his rhythm. her hand falls away from her mouth, a loud cry pouring from her lips. carmen revels in the sound as he continuously drives his hips forward, skin slapping against hers, gripping her left calf, turning to press a kiss into her ankle. his pace begins to satiate the relentless burn within her core, trying to take his length as deeply as possible.

“so good,” she whimpers, bringing her hands to her breasts, squeezing. carmy groans, slapping her outer thigh. 

“where’d that attitude go?” he asks, pelvis flush against her, pulling closer, “huh?” 

her brows furrow, opening her mouth to argue but falling short, a breathy moan replacing her words at the sensation of him deeply fucking into her. her body feels incredibly hot, nipples perked beneath her fingers, feeling herself approaching an edge. he grins, moving his hand to grip at her thigh, eyes scanning over the sight in front of him. 

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he tells her, hips stuttering, trying to push away his quickly approaching orgasm. he pulls out of her, the girl’s eyes shooting open to object. carmy takes hold of her forearms, pulling her to stand, grabbing her hips and turning her around, pushing her forward. her knee comes to the bed, balanced on her other leg as he wraps his arm around her waist, hand on her ribcage and inserts himself back into her tightness. 

“yes,” she cries, arching back against him and bringing her hand onto his arm, feeling the head of his cock thrust deeply upwards. the tingling in her core grows stronger; her head falls back onto his shoulder. carmen grunts, his free hand coming to find her clit, rubbing small, soft circles, feeling himself unravel at the intense pulse of her walls. he kisses her cheek, relentlessly pounding into her, the crescendo of her moans driving him higher and higher. his lips come right next to her ear, breath ragged. 

“you my girl?” he asks, another kiss on the side of her face, bringing his hand from her ribs to her breast, gently squeezing. 

she nods quickly, arm coming behind her to grab his hip, feeling him, tangible beneath her fingers. 

“all yours,” she pants, “i’m all yours, carm.” 

he groans at the sentiment, bottoming out inside of her, quickly circling her clit as her arousal grows slick on his fingers. she feels herself tumbling towards her edge, trying to physically hold onto him so as to not climax, fingers gripping into his skin. 

“i’m-,” a cry falls from her mouth. he pulls the two even closer, wetness pouring from her at the continual thrusts, feeling the cues of her body approaching climax.

“let it go, baby,” he coos, lips pressed against her ear. with his simple command she feels an intense heat envelop her body, orgasm crashing against her like a wave. she goes limp in his arms so he grabs her tighter, bending her over the bed. her thighs begin to shake as carmen relentlessly snaps his hips, watching her intently, feeling a white hot pleasure seep through him. he’s ferociously grabbing at her, pulling her in as he approaches his edge, stutter of his hips as he bottoms out and releases himself into her with a loud groan. she feels the pressure of his cum against her walls, intense heat diffusing as she rides out the shocks of her orgasm. he collapses over her, hand coming to the bed, trying not to put his full weight upon her. their labored breaths harmonize, hearts pounding. carmy runs a hand over her lower back, soothingly rubbing the limp girl. he pushes himself up, straining to grab a tissue off her nightstand to clean with, the act of pulling out of her releasing a constant pressure, the girl whimpering. he soaks up the mess of cum dripping down her legs, drinking in the sight, then rises to throw the tissues away. she’s able to muster the energy to push herself up and stumble behind him, walking into the bathroom to turn on the shower, steadying her shaky legs by holding onto the wall. she turns to see the man, naked in all his glory, approach her, placing his hands on her hips and leaning in to kiss her deeply. she seeps into his touch, hand coming to graze his lower stomach, exhaling slowly. he lets a peace wash over the two before speaking. 

“so, uh, i’ll take this as your two weeks notice, then?” he teases, hand falling to her low back. she tilts her head to the side. 

“what? you mean i don’t get a promotion after that?” she asks, smiling, trying to feign disappointment, “fuck.”

he grins, adoringly gazing down at the young woman, bathing in the light of her smile. 

he knew it was never supposed to go so far. it was never supposed to end up in this position, with her leaning in for another kiss, him greedily accepting. she was his completely now, the man making a vow to never let anything or anyone hurt her, cherishing the feeling of her warmth under his fingertips. 

it was never supposed to go so far, but it did. and he was so fucking glad it did. 

—

eeeek i hope you liked it!! i genuinely enjoyed writing this story so much. an epilogue to wrap up some loose ends is possible in the future- in the meantime i'll be posting some steamy carmy headcannons.

please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! thank you SO MUCH to everyone for the continued support on this series <3

[saiyanprincessswanie]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe thot about: CE!babe + soothing technique 🥺

😍😍 I never get one of these so I’m so excited! I’ve never written for the hunky Curtis before so I’m going to give this a try.

Cure your ache

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Summary: Curtis takes care of you in more ways than one.

Warning: Smut and soothing massage.

Word Count: 700

A/N: not edited, written on my phone. No clue if I did this right. 🫣

Curtis comes home from work and finds you lying on the couch on your stomach with a heating pad on your back. He kneels beside you taking in your tired features.

“Princess, are you feeling okay?” His hand softly cups your cheek and you stare up at him.

“Yeah, I think I might have pulled something in my back. Just trying to relax.” You softly answer.

“I know what would help. Let me give you my famous massage and help get those kinks out of your back.” To demonstrate he lifts his hand and starts to rub your lower back softly.

You smile at him. “You don’t need to tell me twice.” Turning off the heating pad you slowly get up with the help of Curtis and head to the bedroom.

Inside the bedroom, you strip down to just your lacy panties and lay on your stomach on the bed. Curtis is in the bathroom washing up and changing into his sweatpants. He comes out of the bathroom and groans at the position you are in. 

“Damn, Princess you look good to eat. But that will have to wait for later as I promised you a massage.”

Curtis walks over to the bed and crawls up your body. He sees you have the massage oil next to you. He grabs the bottle with one hand and then straddles your butt.

Squirting the oil in his hand he rubs both hands together and starts rubbing your back. His strong, firm hands move up and down your back in tandem with one another. You can’t help but groan as he works to get the kinks out of your back. 

This sinfully feels amazing as his hands rub soothing motions across your back. You feel like you could drift off until he finds that one spot that hurts and you squeak out in pain.

“I can feel a knot in your back princess. Let me work you through this and I promise you will feel better.”

Softly you whisper, “Okay love.”

His hands start off soft as they work your back. It feels awful at first but the more he works that spot the less it hurts. Curtis can feel the knot start to go away and with a firm rub, it’s gone.

You sigh in relief as you feel the pain release from your body. 

“Your hands are a gift from heaven. I swear they’re one of my favorite parts I love about you.”

Curtis quirks his eyebrow. “What’s your favorite part of me then?” His hands stop rubbing your back.

You can’t help but giggle. “Your mouth and cock are my favorites.”

Curtis laughs. “Yeah, you do seem to be addicted to them. Say, how about I run you a bath and then I can cure your ache between your legs.”

“Yes, please Curtis. I need you.” 

Curtis jumps off the bed and heads to the bathroom to run a bath for you. You discard your panties and follow him into the bathroom where he is already naked. Once the tub was ready you both climbed in and he instantly thrusted into you. 

Curtis was helping you bounce on his cock as the water was slouching around you. You tilted your head back and moaned his name.

“Curtis!”

He was thrusting up into your tight pussy as hard and fast as he could go. He always wanted you, craved to be between your legs day and night. Curtis felt himself getting closer to his release. 

“Play with your clit like a good girl. I wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

You reached down with your hand and started to rub your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Within seconds you were cumming hard around his cock and screaming his name to the heavens. A few hard thrusts later and he was cumming deep inside you. His groan echoed off the bathroom walls. 

The things he will do for you to make you feel better are for both your pleasure.

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[slamminslamminmcgill]

Okay consider this. Consider my vision.

Logan or Joel. Big dick. HUGE!

He likes you puking on it for the same reason he likes you screaming on his cock!!! He likes knowing it’s too much. He likes making you look messy, a fucked out little boy toy willing to completely debase yourself for him

COSIGNED CAUSE THAT WAS SOME REAL SHIT YOU JUST SAID ‼️‼️🫃 also if you’ve never puked on dick then ur just not really about it imo 🥱

i’m joelposting with this bc i think he’d be cute w/ it 🥺

warning: emetophobia, oral

Welp. There goes your breakfast. All over Joel’s cock. The most important meal of the day, wasted. A mixture of spit, bile, milk, and partially digested Lucky Charms bubbled in your throat around his shaft, and seeped down his ballsack and onto the floor. You pulled him out of your mouth to gasp for air, cooling the burn from the exertion and stomach acid.

“Oh, geez, boy. Y’alright?” Joel sighed, cupping your jaw and swiping a clump of ambiguous beige goo off your lips.

You spit out a few more chunks. Your breath returned to normal, the burning sensation began to dissipate, and you nodded. “Mhm… I’m… I’m okay… I’m good…”

“Told you it’s big. Y’ain’t gotta kill yourself on it.”

Feeling the brattiness building deep within you, you blew a spit-bubbly raspberry at him. “Yeah, and you also told me you love it when I gag on it. Sooo... you’re welcome.”

Joel chuckled, rolling his eyes at you. “Sassy little bitch. I ain’t gon’ lie to ya, it’s hot watchin’ you go crazy on it.” He brought his other hand to your hair, stroking you and praising you like such a good little dog. “Jerkin’ me off with that throat-cunt . Makin’ you spill your fuckin’ guts on me. A hot mess, that’s what you are.” He leaned forward to smooch you on the forehead. “Good boy.”

You responded with a goofy giggle and smiled. “Thank you-u-u~” Still holding onto his cock, you tapped his head against your wet lips. “I can keep going, if you want me to.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You sure?”

You nodded again, eager. “Mhm!”

“Heh. Good boy. Just can’t seem to get you off my dick, now can I?”

You shook your head, with no less excitement. “Mm-mm!”

Joel snickered one last time, before knotting his fingers in your hair, shoving you down, and sealing your fate with a loud

“GLUK!”

[formulalfc]

uncle trent doing the ‘A’ celebration for his niece for the first time and this takes over his emotions and feelings.. he hasnt really thought deep about having kids so soon but that night at home he’s in his feels, all clingy and loving on you saying he can imagine dedicating his goals to your babies in the future and falls in love with the idea of starting a family with you🥺

my ovaries actually can't take this btw, i need him in a way that is concerning to humanity

he's coming home and walking straight over to you where you're sat snug on your sofa and climbs over you to snuggle into your back. he's pressing kisses on your neck and cheek and his hands are resting on your stomach. you're a bit confused but are content to let him snuggle into you cause you really missed him today. he's holding your tummy and thinking about how it would feel if you guys had a baby in there. ever since he had met his baby niece all he could think about was having his own baby with you, his own little family. and so he whispers your name trying to pull your attention away from the tv. he succeeds in doing so, you turn in his arms and face him smiling up at him. he looks down at you realising just how in love with you he is, he pushes some hair behind your ear and leaned down to kiss you before he whispered to you that he wanted a baby with you. he can see your brain short circuit for a second before tears line your eyes and you're like really??? he wants a baby with you??? and he's chuckling a little at you before he tells you all about the little family he's created inside his brain. your first baby would be a boy, who looks like him but has your eyes and your nose, then you'll have a baby girl and she'll be your twin but she'll have trent's personality and they'll be partners in crime. and him and her older brother will make sure no boy goes within 10 feet of her cause she's never allowed to date ever. and you're letting out a little laugh at that but you also have tears running down your face. and when he's finished telling you about his imaginary family your shoving yourself into his chest, chanting yes over and over again. and there's tears in his eyes too but he's laughing and neither of you can wait to start your family together.

inbox is open send me some ramble requests <3

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi! I know the requests are closed, but for when you can take requests again, I would like if you could write as a kind of part two for "A second chance" Lucien's reaction when he meets his new little sister. I think it would be a very nice story. Thank you!

Couldn't hold myself back... This can be read as a standalone but the first part is here. 🥺✨

A second chance II

It ate at Helion for so long because he wanted to tell Lucien himself. Son or not. Father or not. The girl growing within you was his sister and Helion wasn't going to pretend that she was the only child. So he tried to invite Lucien over more than once, just the male had come up with every possible excuse to not come. So as the weeks went on Helion had just accepted that for now, this would have to be the way that it was and you tried to comfort your lover the best that you could but a thread of sadness lingered.

Your pregnancy stayed a secret for a couple of months. Helion was rather paranoid that someone might turn against him still. Especially with the new laws intertwining day and night courts. So it's a long way down the line when he's raising a glass at one of his big gatherings, hosting multiple courts. His speech is strong and captivating as always as he cheers to every high lord willing to create strong alliances. Until he's turning your way, a bright smile on his face, "And to my wife", he says, "Who's been carrying my babe for the past couple of months". You flash him a smile just a bright, hand instantly moving to rest on your tummy. Oh, how good if feel to need need to hold yourself back from running your fingers against your growing tummy. Loud applauses ring out and Helion's closest friends are there clapping his shoulders, laughter fills the room and it all finally starts to feel even more real. It's just the fact that Lucien's chair is now empty that makes your own heart sting a little.

And it's a couple of days later when the servant knocks gently on your office doors, pulling you away from some of the paperwork you agreed to cover for Helion. "My lady, you have a guest", your eyebrows knit together because you weren't waiting for anyone. Had your baby brain made you miss something? "What guests, Larry?", you say, scattering your meeting book, "Lucien Vanserra, my lady". Your body freezes. He never visits unless it was court-ordered.

Jumping right up you move out in the lower greeting hall that you assumed he would be waiting. And he is there. His deep red hair is such a contrast to the light interior. "Lucien", you call out softly and the male turns around quickly, nearly knocking the vase he was looking at over. He takes a steps forward and the guards instantly leap from their positions. But you lift your hand, "Out all of you", they all linger but the glare you send them is enough to make them think twice.

"My apologies", you say once again turning to Lucien, "Everyone's kind of protective", you chuckle slightly, watching Lucien's eyes fall onto your now round stomach. "Helion is a way for a couple more hours. If you'd like...", but Lucien is shaking his head. It was clear that whatever that's going on in his head had been clawing at him for some time. "Is it a boy...", he speaks up finally and you quickly shake your head, "No, a baby girl". Your hands caress the swell of your stomach and you can see the gleam that runs through Lucien's eyes.

"Are you safe? Is he not harming you?", the question feels so raw and you know those fears had been engraved there by no other than Beron. "Your father is excited to have a girl", you reassure him, "Should have seen him covered in pink paint yesterday". You chuckle under your breath slightly as the images of last night's nursery paint testing flowed into your head. You step closer to Lucien, reaching your hand out towards him, "You know Helion wanted to tell you in person but...", and he nods quickly, well aware that he was the one dismissing Helion's requests.

"I would love for her to have a brother", you mutter quietly, trying to keep your own emotions at bay, "or at least to tell her about you because you are family to us". Lucien sucks in a sharp breath. You can't imagine how hard it all must feel to him. Finding out that the monster torturing you had never even been your father.

The silence falls upon you both and you suddenly feel like you might have overstepped the boundaries. Until Lucien mutters quietly, "I would love to", he startles, "Love to be her brother". Your eyes softens, picking up with tears ever so slightly. You drew your hand closer to cup the younger male's face, his almost desperate eyes looking back at you.

"Give me your hand", you mumble, reaching out to Lucien till he slides his hand into yours. You quickly pressed his warm palm to the side of your stomach where you felt the light kick last. "That's your brother, stardust. The one Dad and I've been telling you about", Lucien lets out a surprised gasp when a tiny hand pushes against your skin. "She can recognize voices now so", Lucien is nodding desperately before saying, "Hey, little one. Sorry that I've been away but I'm here now... I'll protect you", that's enough to set the stream of tears flowing down your cheeks as you watch the two siblings interact. Once again feeling more than honored that you can bring a piece of true family into Lucien's life. "Stay for some tea", you ask the fireling softly and Lucien nods without a second thought.

And the surprise on Helion's face when he steps into the dining room. Fully prepared to bring a plate up for you to your chambers but instead he finds you and Lucien deeply lost in a conversation. And now he understands where all that extra love and happiness was coming from the bond. Lucien quickly stands up at the sight of Helion standing there but the high lord shakes his head, "There's no need for you to stand up, my boy". He catches your gleaming eyes, and his own heart leaps. "Lucien is staying for dinner", you say happily, to which Lucien throws you a genuine smile. Helion's heart nearly bursts because is this a step forward? Does it mean his son is willing to give him a chance? To give his family a chance? "Oh, and he doesn't agree with the guard placement", you mutter, making Lucien roll his eyes, "As eager as you to turn my home into a prison", you cross your arms over your chest playfully. Protective. Already so protective. "I'm more than happy to listen to his thoughts", Helion says and his eyes meet Lucien's. For the first time trying meets his son's gaze.