#shea's hard hours

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞 — 𝐚.𝐜.

summary: you take care of lena, clean up around the house, and always leave dinner for him when he gets home late. and among constant and never-ending change, you are andrew's northern star.

pairing: andrew cody x babysitter!reader

word count: 13.3k

warnings: read carefully! age-gap dynamics, reader is said to have recently graduated college, i basically ignore anything from the show that wouldn't make sense in my perfect little world. smut—arm humping, oral sex, penetration, the tiniest bit of breeding if you squint real hard.

author's note: and here she is. also known as shea wants to write about doing things to pope's arms.

you used to complain if someone called you their nanny. you’re just a babysitter. this would not—could not—be your full time job. it’s just so demanding. you love the kids you take care of but the idea of saying that you’re a nanny makes it a little more real. like you wouldn’t be able to get out of this, despite how hard you’re trying.

you just don’t want to be a babysitter forever. 

but the first time mister cody introduces you as lena’s nanny, you don’t think you mind it all that much. 

babysitters are temporary—girls in high school looking for money to pay for coffee and nail appointments, covering date-nights and overtime at the office.

nannies are permanent—it’s a career. you’re responsible for the kid pretty much twenty-four hours a day. kids with nannies are rich, mom and dad too busy at work to be at home. from the little you deduced, nannies buy groceries and make three meals. they go to doctor’s appointments and organize play-dates with other nannies. 

you do some of those things for lena. her uncle tries to take her and pick her up from school when he can, and when he calls to tell you that he won’t be able to make it every now and then, he sounds so sorry about it, you don’t know what you can do to reassure him that it’s okay. lena’s young, she doesn’t care about stuff like that so deeply. and she likes you, which helps matters a lot.

you had finished the last few classes you needed to graduate a couple months ago. before that, you’d have to tell mister cody no, i’m sorry occasionally, something that you really didn’t like doing. he seemed like he had enough going on without the babysitter cancelling.

and besides, after you had told him that your classes were done, you were supposed to tell him that you would be looking for a real job, something with your degree, that he should start looking for a real nanny for lena. you were supposed to politely, yet firmly allude to how you’d been scrambling with classes, finishing assignments in the car in between picking up his niece and after she’d fallen asleep at night. how you missed an important lecture because the pediatrician’s office was running behind an hour and lena’s grandmother wasn’t available to take her.

instead, the second you had met his eyes (which were terribly green and incredibly sad), you had folded, and told him you’d be available whenever he needed. and you thought maybe that would garner you a smile—and you’d been wrong. he had looked your way for about five seconds, muttered thank you, and walked away. 

and maybe if you could resist those terribly green and incredibly sad eyes, you wouldn’t have wound up as a full-time nanny. life could always be worse—that’s the motto you’ve grown up with. there are so many worse things in oceanside than spending every day in a pretty house by the beach and taking care of a quiet little girl. 

if not anything else, you could start making payments on your student loans, if you wanted. mister cody paid you in cash, and he paid you way too much, probably his way of apologizing for how much you had stepped up in the last couple months. but again, you didn’t really mind anymore. maybe if it was another family, you would care more about finding a real job.

but you like lena. you like her uncle, too, you think, as much as you can like a man who is virtually silent and stares at you like he’s boring into your soul when you’re making dinner. you like him because he’s good with her, you can always tell he’s trying his absolute best, his hardest with her. (it doesn’t help that he’s cute—cute in the way that strays are, like you wish you could fix everything wrong with him and reassure him that he’s doing enough, and tell him to stop staring and just come tell you what he’s thinking instead.) 

the first couple months were the hardest. lena wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. she hated school, hated all the things she had still cared for when her dad was alive. you’d tried bribing her with trips to the beach, the playground, ice cream with extra fudge and sprinkles. all the things that kids liked. but she wasn’t just a normal kid—and it seemed that you and her uncle were the only ones who understood this. 

you didn’t realize you had such a maternal instinct inside of you. maybe it’s because the other kids you’d babysat in your life had been brats, sticky handed toddlers going through the terrible twos and making your life hell while you were trying to pass your classes. lena is the opposite. 

she’s the saddest child you’ve ever met, and you know nothing that you or her uncle do is going to fix it overnight.

but progress comes in stages. the first step had been getting her to want to eat again. you’d sat on the couch next to her, watching a nature documentary that her uncle had probably left playing on the tv.

(he is a whole other can of worms—he doesn’t sleep or eat that much either, and one time you had come in really early to get some work done before getting her to school. he’d been awake, watching something just like this, at five-thirty in the morning. and when you’d asked him when he’d gotten up, he had shrugged, and murmured something that sounded suspiciously close to i don’t sleep. that’s your next mission, because you can only focus on one at a time.)

“you hungry, sweetie?” you didn’t want to be pushy. she wouldn’t like that, would only retreat further into herself. you wanted her to come to you when she was ready to eat. lena shook her head and focused back on the television. “okay. well, if you get hungry later, i’ll eat with you.”

lena says okay in her quiet voice, holding onto a stuffed animal and staring ahead. you wait a couple of hours—there’s always something to do in the house. you clean up, wiping counters and sweeping while she stays on the couch. you check in every now and then to make sure she didn’t fall asleep. 

and then, thirty minutes before her new bedtime, she comes and sits on the chair by the dining table while you’re wiping it down.

“can we get pizza?” she asks, and you nod right away.

“of course we can. what kind do you want?”

another thirty minutes later, the pizza’s there, and you’re both eating slices of pepperoni and spinach. you’ve formulated your plan for the rest of the night—her uncle’s still not home, which means you can crash on the couch or stay awake. you decide to stay awake, since there’s no follow up text from him. if he wasn’t going to come home tonight, you’d expect the standard, concise message; won’t be back tonight. is lena okay? 

and you’re stupid, because you think it’s sweet that he always asks if she’s okay. like you wouldn’t call him the second something went wrong, like he doesn’t believe that you’d trust him with that information before anyone else. but there’s no texts tonight from the contact you’d saved as andrew cody (lena’s uncle). 

lena’s finishing her last slice and you’re cleaning up when you hear it—the rumble of his truck pulling up to the house. then a minute later, footsteps and the front door opening.

“what’s all this?” he asks, and you have to remember to find the words. 

you don’t know why that happens when he comes around—you’re usually great with dads. maybe it’s because he looks tired, more tired than usual, at least. his copper curls are messed up, like he’s been running a hand through his hair all night. lena’s uncle is always stiff, but it seems worse today, somehow.

(another thought seeps in, an uninvited guest in your mind, about how you’d really like to take care of him. he just needs some sleep, a little peace of mind. that’s it. you’re still trying to figure out the best way to give it to him.)

“we got pizza, uncle pope,” lena fills in, setting down the last piece of crust you knew she wouldn’t finish. 

“there should be enough for you,” you add, smiling at him. he doesn’t smile back, but you’re used to that at this point. and you can tell what’s about to come. “lena, can you go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on for me?” 

she nods and climbs off the chair, running into her room. 

“it’s past her bedtime,” he starts, taking a few steps closer to you. “and pizza for dinner-”

you interrupt him, even though you probably shouldn’t. you close up the box, setting it on the island and you go back to wipe the table.

“she’s not eating, mister cody,” you put the paper towel down, getting your bearings in order to face him, make the dreaded, never-ending eye-contact. “when kids don’t eat you have to meet them halfway. i thought this was better than her going to bed without eating at all.” 

he keeps looking at you. you think you should be a little nervous, but you don’t get like that anymore. flustered, sure, but not nervous—lena’s uncle is just kind of a starer, and you’ve gotten used to it by now. 

“i’m sorry. i’ll run it by you next time, i promise. i just wanted her to eat something.” he’s silent for a while, like he’s processing what you said. 

“yeah. okay. thanks.” 

you smile again, a small one. the kitchen’s clean now, or at least as clean as you can get it. you’re sure that when you’re back in the morning, it’ll be spotless, which you can only assume is one of mister cody’s nocturnal activities. you have a routine before leaving—you say goodnight to lena, make sure you didn’t leave anything behind, and tell her uncle you’ll see him in the morning.

he doesn’t normally say anything back, maybe a grunt of acknowledgement. so you’re surprised tonight, when you grab your bag and your keys and hear—

“have a good night.” 

“you too, mister cody.” 

+

it took time, but you’ve gotten her schedule better. she eats dinner with you now, whatever semi-healthy thing you can think of with the stuff in the pantry and the groceries you picked up while she’s at school. her uncle leaves money for that sort of thing—an envelope filled with hundred dollar bills. it’s labeled lena’s babysitter in stiff, neat handwriting and he told you to use it for copays and ice-cream and anything else that lena needs. but it feels wrong to use his money when he already overpays you, so you just use your own. 

you thought he might not have noticed that the envelope isn’t getting any thinner, until one morning when you arrive and see him counting the notes in it with his head down. now you’re the one staring—watching his arm flex and the muscles move as he flips through the bills. he wears the same kind of shirts every day, short sleeve button-ups, and every day, you are subject to watch his forearms while he does whatever he does. it’s a cruel and unusual punishment.

the worst had been when you needed a box down from the cabinet, the one with the muffin tins and cookie cutters. he had appeared behind you and taken it down for you in seconds, carrying it to the kitchen for you. you had been staring then too, uncomfortable and slack-jawed and wondering why his arms had your mouth dry. (you know the answer, it’s just better to live in denial, you think.)

“good morning, mister cody.” you set your bag down on the sofa, heading inside to get started on breakfast. you open the fridge, taking out a carton of eggs and orange juice and avoiding looking right at him. you don’t need to be flustered before seven-thirty am.

“you haven’t been using this money,” he states. you wish you could figure out what his tone means—there’s no inflections, no emotion simmering behind the words. it’s just cut and dry, stating a fact.

“well, i-” you turn back and look up from the stove and your words die on your tongue. he’s standing up, looking right at you, a fist full of cash like he’s going to make you use it one way or another. a single vein running through his arms tenses. your gaze flickers from it to his eyes quickly, looking at you like he wants you to start listening to him.

“i, um, i had enough.”

“you should use it.”

“but you already gave me a lot, so i-”

“i want you to use it.” the way he says it, it’s not a request. 

“right. i-i will. is lena awake?”

“she’s getting ready.”

“great. thank you.” you turn back to the eggs with a flushed face. and even though you’re not facing him anymore, you can tell he’s still staring at you. 

“i might not be back tonight.” you turn around and meet his eyes again. terribly green, incredibly sad. you’re too far now to see the brown, but you know it’s there. “i…i’ve got some work. it’ll be late, if i do.”

“thank you for the heads up. i, uh, i’ll crash on the couch then.” you think he might say something else, but you’re not sure. it’s silent for a moment, while you get the eggs onto a plate and hurry into the hallway to get lena.

she comes out first, carrying her backpack. you follow with her hairbrush for once she’s done eating, getting her already packed lunch out from the fridge to sort into her bag. there’s a whole routine that you had learned when you first started babysitting her, and now it’s just a way of life. filling up her water bottle, checking the calendar on the fridge to make sure there’s nothing you’re missing, pulling her jacket from the closet if it’s cold outside.

you get the bottle out, glancing back at her uncle. he’s leaning in while lena takes a bite of the eggs, probably telling her that he won’t be home, and to have a good day, and all the other things you’re sure he says to her. then they hug, and you feel like you’re intruding.

he picks up his keys, which rest in the small blue bowl by the door where yours sit too. and without thinking, you call out after him.

“have a good day at work.” he doesn’t say anything back, but he looks at you before he leaves. you don’t even know what he does for work.

“ready for school?” lena shakes her head no like always.

+

the days are long, but the weeks are short. you bring lena to school, but they have a half-day, so there’s no point in going home for the day if you need to be back in a couple of hours. so you head back to mister cody’s place, focusing your attention on cleaning the remnants from breakfast. you check the fridge, making note of how much fruit and milk you have left, scribbling onto a piece of paper for later. and for once, you listen to him, taking a single bill out of the envelope and putting it into your wallet. there’s other hundred dollar bills in there too, ones you need to deposit.

it hasn’t been making sense lately. a lot of nannies live with their families because it avoids the wastefulness of paying rent for an apartment you hardly ever visit. you pay internet and electric for a one-bedroom that’s empty the entire day. and now that you’re done with classes, you don’t even need to work on anything late at night or even at lena’s house. you carry around a book with you, and you think you’ve even left a couple on the coffee table, just for the future. 

you don’t know why you still have your apartment. well, you know why—mister cody has never mentioned you moving in. and he probably never will, because he doesn’t want you to. but it just doesn’t make sense the more you think about it. you show up between six and seven and sometimes you don’t go home until ten. sometimes you don’t go home at all.

after making your list, you rack your head of things you can do to occupy lena’s time today. the library has a weekly reading, and there’ll be other kids there. you like to pick things so she can get some company from kids her age, so she’s not only stuck with you and her uncle all the time. 

closer to when school gets out, you get in the car, bringing in your emergency bag with a change of clothes and your toothbrush since you’ll be staying the night. it’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence, which is why the bag, and a couple others like it, is always ready to go. you go to the bank first, depositing everything except the single hundred-dollar bill you took today. then you drive by the park, see if they’re having any of those pet-therapy sessions today. and then finally school to pick up lena.

the rest of the day goes how you planned. you forget how exhausting it is keeping a little kid entertained for hours on end, unsure of exactly what her uncle pope and his brothers do with her sometimes, when you struggle to fill up a couple of extra hours. the grocery store—where you splurge and buy ingredients to make stove-top smores because lena asks and you’ll take your wins where you can get them—then the library, where you take out a couple of books for lena to read at home and smile when she’s talking with some of the other girls there, then the playground for an hour, before home for dinner.

you make spaghetti while she finishes her homework, and review her homework while she changes into pajamas. and then it’s time for the routine she loves so much, just like her uncle, a nature documentary about penguins while you toast the marshmallows on a fork. 

an hour later, lena’s asleep in bed, and you’re scrubbing hardened chocolate off the counter next to the stove. you don’t want more work for her uncle when he’s back, and you’ve learned lena’s a heavy sleeper, so you get to cleaning. it’s not like, as pathetic as the thought is, you have anything better to do. 

and then about two hours after that, it’s eleven-thirty. it’s right around the latest that mister cody has ever come home, so you’re pretty sure he won’t be back tonight. 

the only thing you have to look forward to in your apartment is the shower you take after a long day. you’ll have to make do with the shower inside the room where mister cody sleeps, since lena’s is close to her room and filled with products for an eight year old, and at the very least, you need adult shampoo and soap. 

the room is bare—you would have guessed it’s a guest room if you didn’t know better. you’re not nosy, but you look around, trying to see if there’s anything there that makes the room her uncle’s. you know there’s still another bedroom, the one her parents used to share, since lena sometimes goes in there when she can’t sleep. so this was a guest room, and now it’s mister cody’s, and now you’re lurking in it.

besides for a closet full of clean-pressed button up shirts and organized shoes, you can’t discern anything that makes this room his. there’s not a single thing out of place, from the garden-variety decor that someone else had picked to the artwork to the sheets. the bathroom is more of the same, the entire place having that lemon-cleaner smell to it. 

you turn the water on and strip, trying to avoid thinking about how you’ll be sleeping on the couch after this. and even inside the shower, you stare at the two-in-one shampoo bottle and the old spice body wash—old spice. who would have thought?—like you can’t believe what you’re looking at. you inhale the scent for longer than you need to. wrap yourself in a clean towel that doesn’t belong to you. brush your teeth with his spearmint toothpaste. and then you open your overnight bag, and find nothing but sundresses and bathing suits.

it’s past midnight, and you’ve grabbed the wrong bag. you need to get up in about six and a half hours to get lena ready for school, and you’re not positive you have the correct bag in the back of your car. 

hesitantly, you open one of the dresser drawers. there’s black and white t-shirts folded precisely, tucked in evenly. one drawer up there’s folded socks and boxers. 

you chew on your cheek. he did say that he won’t be home tonight. there’s no way he would know you took anything if you ran a load of laundry as soon as you woke up and folded it after morning drop-off. he might not even be home until the afternoon or evening, for all you know.

your tiredness makes the decision for you. the couch isn’t that comfortable, and you refuse to sleep in the shirt and jean skirt you spent all day in. you take a white shirt and black boxers, and then sneak back in for a pair of black socks because the living room is cold at night. and then you set your alarm, turn on another documentary—this one about hummingbirds, wrap yourself in the throw blanket on the couch, and close your eyes. 

andrew comes home at quarter to three. it would have been a lot sooner—he doesn’t like leaving you alone here at night with lena if he can avoid it—but he doesn’t always have control over it. a bullet had grazed deran and he’d spent two hours cleaning up that mess, and then they had to organize their splits before leaving. he had to make sure to stay for that—he needs the cash to pay you, rent for baz’s place, money to put into lena’s savings account. 

but he hates leaving you alone in the apartment with lena. not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he knows now it’s not safe, not without him there. he likes to get you home early but it’s rarely the case, and then he feels like he should pay you extra since he’s making you drive home alone in the dark.

telling you to stay is a better option. you can sleep in his room—it’s not like he’s going to sleep in there anyways. but he doesn’t say that, doesn’t need the nanny thinking there’s something wrong with him too. so he settles for telling you to stay the night, and letting you decide where you’ll sleep. 

you always pick the couch. and sometimes, he’s not back early enough, sometimes you’re already up making breakfast or gone out for the day with lena by the time he’s back.

 but tonight, you’re asleep on the couch. he sets down the bag with the cash on the couch, hovering over you. the television is still on, stuck on a are you still watching? screen, covering up a photo of some birds. a breath leaves him when he realizes you’re watching what he always watches. you’re knocked out—he can tell since the front door opening didn’t wake you like it sometimes does. you’ve kicked away the blanket you usually use, and he thinks for a second he should just cover you up and let you sleep.

but he doesn’t. he stands over you, staring at your sleeping form. he doesn’t like it—how pretty you are when you sleep. it’s a distraction that he can’t escape, knows that the next time he closes his eyes, he’ll think of you. that the next time he sits on this couch, he’ll be able to smell your skin. you snore softly, chest rising and falling evenly. 

and then he notices it—the plain shirt, black socks with a familiar logo. are those his boxers? and now he definitely can’t look away. he puts the pieces together—your hair is wet, meaning you must have showered and then put on his clothes before coming back out here. if you were going to do all of that, why didn’t you just sleep in his room?

yes, pope decides, he needs you to sleep in his bed. he needs the couch anyways, since he won’t be sleeping, so he might as well bring you inside. 

he lifts you carefully, not wanting to stir you accidentally. his shirt is a little big on you, hanging off your shoulder. you stay sound asleep the entire short walk to his bedroom, not stirring even when he sets you down. you must have been really tired, but that makes sense, given the fact that you’ve been out all day with lena.

he thought about sticking a tracker on your car, but the first time he was taking care of lena, after baz, you had shared your phone’s location with him so he could keep track. you had offered it, voluntarily, saying something about how that’s common with babysitters now, and that you never go anywhere without your phone so he won’t have to worry about you leaving it at home.

you thought reassuring him that he would always have lena’s location in his phone would make him feel better. and maybe it had, but he’d never mentioned it again after that day, never brought up if he actually checked it or not.

(it’s not like you would know if he was using it, it doesn’t work like that. deran had explained it to him.) he did check it, pretty frequently, actually. he checked it after you’d leave when he got home, after lena was asleep. he’d watch your little circle drive home and pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex. it wasn’t as bad of an area as it could be, but it wasn’t that safe either. he liked to check it every now and then too, middle of the night, saturday evenings when he was home with lena and you got to leave early or had the day off.

he assumed, somehow, that you’d be in bars or parties at your college, maybe. but when he looks at your location late at night, you’re always at home. he checks other times too—but he’s just trying to keep you safe. (that’s what he tells himself—that finding another babysitter than lena liked and that he trusted would be a hassle. he needs to keep you safe.)

but it doesn’t seem like you like any of that stuff. he’s never seen you drink the beer in the fridge, though you offer one to him every now and then. you’ve met smurf and deran and craig before, like when you’d go to drop off lena before one of your classes, back before you had finished school.

you were smart—he knew that much. that was the kind of good example he needed around lena, someone who had gone through school and finished. he didn’t know what your degree was in, but it must’ve been something smart, something important. you were always typing on your computer and reading books. whatever it is that you studied, he wants someone in lena’s life that can help her with that stuff, stuff he doesn’t know much about, when it’s time.

you were smart enough to turn down every joint or bump that craig offered. you never accepted a drink from smurf that didn’t come from a can that you opened yourself. and baz used to tell him that you were just a local college kid, that you didn’t have any family nearby or anyone to occupy your time, really. 

it didn’t make sense—pretty girl like you. he would have thought you had a boyfriend, but if you do, you’ve never brought him around. and if he didn’t live with you or live at that coffee shop you liked that was down the street from your apartment, then he didn’t know if you even had one. maybe he shouldn’t spend any time thinking about your hypothetical boyfriend, but that’s just what comes up sometimes when he thinks about you for too long. like right now.

you look peaceful lying in his bed. your eyes flutter quickly like you’re having a dream, and he sits on the bed next to you, watching you sleep. your hair falls across your face, and his finger twitches. he almost moves his hand to brush the hair away, but he decides not to, settling for just watching you for another minute or two. 

the bed creaks slightly when he gets up. no one uses it much, so it’s a little weary. he doesn’t think the noise is anything, but your eyes blink open. the door’s open, light from the living room illuminating a sliver of the space.

he thinks he should get out before you can ask any questions, but he doesn’t, hovering over the bed while you look around. 

“andrew?” and god if it doesn’t sound different coming from your lips. you’re too tired to remember that you usually stick with mister cody, which is so formal it hurts. it sounds real, sincere, not filled with fear or anger or anything else. you haven’t even said anything and he thinks he’s losing his mind. 

it’s just the way you say it. there’s no question attached, no demand, no sacrifice. just you, making sure it’s him. 

“that couch is bad for your back,” he says. 

he knows it is, the couple times he tried to lay down and stare at the ceiling. he’s always sore, muscles screaming and joints aching but he knows how to ignore it. he doesn’t think you should start feeling like that. feels angry at the very idea that you would be sore after spending a night on the couch, taking care of his niece, looking after baz’s house. doing all the things that he’s too busy to do.

you take care of things. you do a good job too—figuring out how to get lena to eat and sleep again. making sure her routine doesn’t go awry just because he’s gone on a job all day. you remember things that he doesn’t even know about—activities with kids after school and how the school has soccer practice starting soon. you think a couple steps ahead when it comes to lena, and sometimes, he doesn’t think you see it as a job. 

like when you make enough breakfast for the three of you. leave dinner on a plate inside the microwave with a note on the counter. when you clean like it’s your house, make sure things stay in the place they’re supposed to, which is so much harder when there’s a kid around. he’s not stupid—it’s why he gives you so much money each week, shoves an envelope into your hand despite your protests. why the first thing he does after he gets his cut is make sure you get yours. 

and as hard as the thought is to swallow, he doesn’t think he could do all of this without you. 

“mmh-” you agree, making a soft noise. he wishes he could engrain it into his brain and replay it whenever he wants. “i thought you don’t sleep?” you ask, and he sees your lips turn up into a smile. he wishes the lights were on.

“i try,” he replies, realizing that he’s still hovering over you. he wonders why you weren’t scared the moment you woke up. “sometimes. i try.” 

“do you wanna try now?” you ask, whispering. and he goes silent—because what is he supposed to say that? 

you reach out in the dark for his hand, and he flinches, taking it back. but you don’t retreat, reaching out again until you’re grasping his fingers. 

“try for a couple hours. i set an alarm,” you say, and the way you say it, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. you have a way of convincing him, or maybe it’s just late and you’re tired, and your sleepy voice isn’t helping matters. nor does the fact that you don’t seem even remotely concerned that you’re inviting him to come sleep on the bed next to you.

you sit up a little, and he regrets even staying as long as he did. you need your sleep, unlike him. you’re still holding onto his hand, and your skin is warm on his. it couldn’t really be, but it feels like it’s burning his, where your palm rests against his, where your fingers twist with his. 

“hey,” you start, slow and soft. “don’t think about it. just sleep for a little.” 

“yeah,” he says. “okay. a little.”

you move over, and when he lays down—back straight against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling—it’s warm where your body was resting. you’re still holding onto his hand, not letting go. your grip is loose enough that he could free his hand easily, and even if it wasn’t, he could overpower you if he wanted.

but he doesn’t want to. and somewhere between your slow breaths and how you rub his knuckles, running your soft skin against dozens of old scars—because that’s his punching hand—andrew falls asleep.

you can hear it, his breaths getting steady, evening out. your hands stay together in the middle of the bed, between you, and you wonder for a split second how you’re going to deal with this in the morning, how you’ll make sense of this in daylight. the semblance of a professional relationship you had maintained this entire time might turn into dust in a couple hours. and then you breathe in andrew’s comforting scent, clean linen and saltwater, and fall back asleep.

the best thing about this house is the light and the waves. golden rays pour in through the half-way open blinds and you can hear the ocean crashing against the rocks in the distance. it’s the perfect way to wake up, even if it is six-thirty and your alarm is going off in the living room, where your phone must be.

you need to get up. you don’t want lena to wake up from the noise, even though you know she won’t—that girl can sleep through anything. it’s a problem for when she’s older, when she goes to college and there’s no one besides a roommate to make sure she doesn’t miss class. even half-asleep, you smile thinking about it.

and somehow, when you look on the other side of the bed, it hits you that it wasn’t a dream. andrew is asleep next to you, still in whatever clothes he was wearing throughout the day. a short sleeved button up and pants. you’re surprised that he didn’t fall asleep with his shoes on. 

he looks very calm when he sleeps. the lines of tension on his forehead and around his eyes are soft when he’s like this, his hair a mess and cheek smushed against the pillow, against your hand.

he’s still holding your hand. it makes a certain kind of warmth rain all over you, flooding you from inside out. he’s on top of the covers and you’re under the throw blanket, and you don’t remember doing that, which means that he did.

an exhausted, half-asleep andrew cody covered you up before he fell asleep on top of the covers. he fell asleep holding your hand and your chest hurts because he won’t wake up holding it still, since you need to go turn that stupid alarm off. 

he never sleeps, you know this. he’s never been asleep when you show up early, never heading to bed when you leave for the day. this bed is pretty much always made, sheets never rustled and not a pillow out of place because no one sleeps here. you hope you can start changing that.

you don’t want to pull your hand away from him. it’s so simple, so sweet that you can’t bring yourself to do it. that this whole time, andrew just needed someone to sleep beside him. you rest your head back on the pillow, continue staring, creepy as it is. you’ve never been able to study him like this before, have never been close enough. 

the hand holding onto yours is softer than you’d imagined. the veins running through his forearm are thick and tense, even when he’s like this. you think it might be from how tightly he’s holding onto your hand, like even in his sleep he’s worried he might lose you somehow. 

andrew cody has freckles—all across his arms and on his hands too. there’s a splatter of them across his nose and cheeks, places where he must have gotten burnt as a kid, maybe when he was lena’s age. the tips of his ears flush pink while he sleeps, and he snores. all things that make you smile, things that are so personal you feel your face getting warm, like you shouldn’t have access to that information. 

you need to turn that god-damn alarm off, before it wakes him up. you think you’d rather die than disrupt the few hours of peaceful sleep he’s getting right now. so you wriggle your hand, trying to find the best way to get it out of his grip and make sure you don’t wake him in the process. nothing’s working, even in his sleep he’s thrice as strong as you. the generic alarm tone keeps going in the background.

you lean in, pressing a chaste kiss to andrew’s cheek, whispering that you promise to be right back. and for a split second he moves around, and you regain control of your tingling hand.

the bed creaks a little when you get up, but you do it slowly so it’s not too loud. walk to the couch as fast as your bare feet will take you, looking down and realizing you’re still in andrew’s socks.

(his shirt and boxers too, but you’re choosing to ignore that for now. if someone walked in through the front door in this moment, it would look like you and him were something other than a guardian and babysitter. you think you’d actually enjoy trying to see him explain to his brothers why you’re in his clothes head to toe. you might like this more than you think you did.)

you can hear the ocean again once the alarm is turned off. it’s a beautiful thing to wake up too, you think, pulling open the curtains and looking outside on the street. people are on runs, doing yoga on the beach, watching the sunrise with their dogs.

and inside, andrew cody is sound asleep.

the first part of your day is waking up lena. she grumbles and takes five, sometimes ten, minutes to get up after you go in there. in that time, you set out clothes for her and then head back to the kitchen. you have a habit of making sure her backpack has everything—the colorful pens she’s always telling you about and yesterday’s homework. if she forgot something at home, the school would call andrew, and then andrew would call you, and you hate adding more work to his life. so, you make sure it’s all there before she leaves.

then breakfast—eggs and toast if you’re running late, pancakes if you got there early. it’s seeming like a pancake sort of day.

you make the batter and then pull out the bag of chocolate chips and head back to lena’s room. you use the semi-sweet morsels as an incentive to get her up, which works like a charm. while she’s changing and brushing her teeth, you make three pancakes. two for lena, and the first one you peeled that’s never quite as good is for you. 

lena comes to the table to eat her pancakes, and you tell her to stay just a little quieter than usual because her uncle pope is still sleeping.

“really?” she asks, and you feel something inside of you twist in discomfort. as if you had imagined before you met him, maybe he was sleeping, that maybe this was something recent. you smile at lena.

“yeah, sweetie, really.” 

you bring lena to school, come back home, and check on andrew—who is still sleeping. you cover him up with the blanket you’d slept under and then make three more pancakes and some scrambled eggs. there’s no bacon in the house or you would have made that too.

you scribble it on the grocery list and then head back inside the bedroom, carefully perching yourself on the edge of the bed and maybe a little too comfortable, too quick, run your fingers through his messy hair. he sighs against the pillow and it makes you smile immediately. you keep going, fingers not stopping until you see his eyes fluttering open. you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, though you don’t want to stop either. 

“i made breakfast,” you say quietly. andrew looks up at you, and then to your slept-in side of the bed. he moves, sitting up in the bed and you take back your hand tentatively. his hair is soft like you’d imagined.

 he wipes his face with his hands, rubbing at his eyes. and when he looks at you, you feel any prudence that once was inside you melt away. well-rested, sleepy andrew cody, waking up in the bed you shared last night, while you tell him about the pancakes you made for him. you couldn’t have imagined this, for some reason, which makes it feel all the more real. 

“what time is it?” he asks, in a gruff, sleepy voice.

“almost nine, i think.” he looks up at you quickly.

“lena?”

“i brought her to school already. you-you were sleeping. i didn’t want to wake you.” 

“when did you get up?” 

“six-thirty. my alarm. remember?” you do remember telling him about it before you fell asleep, one of the last things you had said in a conversation that feels like it was light-years ago. 

“yeah.” you know better than to expect anything right now. he’s always been quiet, sentences curt and expressions relatively blank. you’ve had a few hours to simmer in it—think about what’ll happen tomorrow and next week and what it means to sleep in the bed next to the man whose niece you babysit. he just woke up a few minutes ago.

“well, there’s pancakes. and eggs. there’s no bacon but i’ll go get some later-”

“did you eat?” you catch his eye. perched on the bed next to him, you can see more than just green. brown too, around his pupils. not nearly as sad as they had seemed yesterday. 

“yeah. i had one.” 

“just one?” you don’t have an answer for that, but unusually confident, you stand up. 

“i’ll have a bite of yours if you come eat with me.”

and though you couldn’t have imagined it last night, you end up leaning against the counter with andrew, splitting bites of chocolate-chip pancakes (yours drenched in syrup, his comparably dry as a bone), and luke-warm scrambled eggs. 

he washes the dishes, and you put them away. it’s incredibly domestic. 

“i’m sorry about your clothes,” you say, sliding a plate back into the cupboard. “um, i’ll wash everything today.” you had to bring it up at some point.

and then andrew turns to look at you. head to toe, he stares, gaze flicking up and down for what seems like eons. you don’t have a guess for why, maybe he’s trying to decide if he’ll accept your apology.

(he’s trying to memorize it, capture it like a picture in his brain, seal it up and hold onto it forever. how you look right now—his white shirt, with nothing underneath, which must be why he can see the outline of your breasts when you turn to put another dish away. his boxers, that you bunched up around your waist, his socks, one rolled up around your ankle and the other halfway up your calf. did you go to the school drop-off in his clothes, too?)

“and i can wash your jacket too, i’m sorry. it was kind of cold and i don’t know where my hoodie is. i-i’m sorry.”

he turns to look at you again. you seem worried, chewing on your cheek, waiting for his answer.

“don’t wash the jacket,” he says, and turns back to the sink. he doesn’t want it to stop smelling like you, but you don’t need to know that.

“yeah. sure. i won’t. sorry again, andrew.” 

his heart thuds in this chest at the realization that you might never go back to calling him mister cody. 

the two of you finish the dishes. he wipes up the counter while you put away lena’s things, and then he grabs his keys and puts on his shoes. you stand there watching, feeling awfully close to something like a wife watching her husband about to leave her for the day. and when you open your mouth, you can’t stop it from coming out.

“do you know when you’ll be back?”

“i’ll be here for dinner. can you pick up lena?” he doesn’t want to leave you, but there’s about ten texts and three missed calls on his phone that he needs to deal with. when he shrugs his jacket on, it does, in fact, smell like you. it might be enough to keep him calm the rest of the day.

“yeah, of course. well.. i’ll go start the laundry.” a vision of you peeling off your—his—clothes plagues his mind momentarily. “i’ll see you later?” you say, smiling hesitantly. 

and without thinking too much about it, andrew comes up close to you, leans in a little awkwardly, and kisses your forehead.

“i’ll see you later.” he leaves you there in his shirt and socks, blinking stupidly at the door. 

+

andrew does come back for dinner. you make an attempt at chicken parm at lena’s request, which really just turns out to be a sort of chicken parm-casserole situation, but lena likes it and the garlic bread tastes good, so you will call it a win for now.

while you’re simmering sauce and frying the cutlets, your mind flicks through everything you know about lena’s uncle. he’d never once been anything but nice to you—nice is one way to put it. polite is another. courteous, appropriate, reserved. 

one night you had been waiting for him so you could leave, and he’d come home with lena’s other uncles. you had introduced yourself and smiled nicely, and when you left and gotten into your car, it hadn’t turned on. you remember debating if you should go back inside or just call triple a and wait, but somehow, andrew had known something was wrong. he had come out a few minutes later, told you that he would drive you home while his brother stayed at home and that he’d be back in a minute. 

he’d dropped you off at home and told you he’d come get you in the morning. and you had slept anxiously that night, wondering what was wrong with your car and how much of a disturbance it would be to andrew to come get you. 

but after the two of you had dropped lena off at school—again, disturbingly domestic—he brought you back to the house. and without any words at all, he worked on your car while you sat and watched. you held a flashlight when he needed it, and he said it shouldn’t happen again when he was done. 

and you guess that’s the kind of man andrew cody is.

true to his word, andrew comes home in time to eat dinner with you and lena. after dinner, since it’s friday, you let her have a brownie and a half, the ones you’d made earlier that day. you have one too and you offer one to andrew, but he shakes his head, and you’re only mildly disappointed.

you haven’t been home, so you’re wearing one of the dresses from the wrong overnight bag you’d brought here. (your disappointment goes away when you notice that he hasn’t stopped staring at your exposed thighs since the minute he walked through the door.)

lena watches a cartoon before bed and you try to clean up the rest of the kitchen, but it’s hard, since andrew’s done most of the leg-work already. he tucks lena in and you gather your belongings—and true to your word, you did laundry and put his clothes back in the exact place you found them. 

(you did steal another pair of socks, but you hardly think he minds now. he kissed you goodbye this morning like he was actually your husband, or something, and every minute you spend in this house washing dishes and scrubbing counters next to him is not helping. he stares at the straps of your dress like he could slip them off your shoulder with his mind, like it’s the only thing he’s thinking about. you don’t mind.) 

“she’s out,” he says, coming back into the living room. you’re sitting on the couch, knees tucked to your chest while you change the channel to one of those documentaries you’ve been so fond of recently. you turn to smile at andrew and he comes and takes a seat next to you. 

“that’s good. i can go soon.” but you make no effort to move, staring at the screen in front of you. this one is about sea-life, shades of blue flooding ahead of you both. 

“you can stay,” andrew says, quiet like always. “if you want.” his voice is deep and gravelly, and the words he says scratch an itch somewhere deep inside of you, and the relief is visible on your body. you sink a little further into the sofa, knees falling next to andrew’s, thighs touching. 

“if that’s okay with you.” you whisper it, as if saying it too loudly might make the entire idea crack open and fall apart.

you two stay like that for a while. you don’t know when, but andrew swings an arm around your shoulder, and you rest your head against his chest, collapsing into his comfortable grip. you can hear his heart beating, can feel every breath he takes. his hand brushes the top of your shoulder every time you breath, and his other hand is clasped with yours. you watch schools of fish and pods of dolphins, and you think that any other night, you could fall asleep like this. 

“andrew?” you ask, still staring straight ahead. you brush your fingers over his knuckles like you had done last night, and you can feel his hand tense under your touch, until it finally relaxes. “do you want to go to bed?” 

“yeah, kid,” he says. “let’s go to bed.” 

and you’ll be damned if the domesticity doesn’t kick you in the stomach, sucker punch you in the chest and knock all the wind out of you. andrew turns the tv off, puts the remote back in the right place. and then he picks you up, and you make a quiet noise of surprise, underestimating him momentarily. you should know better.

one hand wraps around your legs and the other around your back, bridal-style (fitting, you think), and he sets you down on the creaky bed. you worry, how loud it’ll be and how you’ll have to be quiet but then andrew hovers over you, nothing but a tiny lamp brightening up the room, and you lose your train of thought.

“you sure you wanna do this?” he asks, that rough voice again. like you’ve thought about anything else for the last twenty-four hours. you nod quickly, bringing your hands to his chest, and then his arms, fingers tracing the sinewy veins and thrumming muscles up and down on both sides. his eyes shut while you do it, breaths getting heavy and deep. but you keep going—it’s only fair. you’ve only thought about it a million times. 

“does that feel good?” you whisper, and he lets out a quiet, almost painful groan.

“y-yes,” and you smile, fingers moving on their own while you lean in for the kiss you’ve been waiting for. 

andrew’s mouth is hot, and his kisses are like fire. as soon as your lips touch, he pins you all the way down, his body weight on top of yours. he kisses you the same way he had held your hand last night, the same way he held you on the couch, like you’ll slip away if he stops for even a second. your lips start to ache, but you moan quietly into his mouth, letting him swallow them while you still stroke his arms. one day, you’ll crawl into his lap and play with his hands until he’s sick of you, but today, you need to feel him. 

you can’t do much from your position, but you can wrap your legs around his waist, one hand going towards his chest to pull at his shirt. he takes it off in one motion, yanking the fabric at the back until it comes off, messing up his hair while he pulls it. your free hand goes there, running through his hair again. you use it to steady yourself, gaining leverage while he keeps kissing you like there’s nothing else for him to do. like his life depends on it. he thinks it just might.

“an-andrew,” you get out in gasps, moving your mouth away for a second. “i need to breathe,” you pant, but he doesn’t stop, kisses your cheek and your jaw and buries his face in your neck. you feel the skin there between his lips, then his teeth, and you grip hard on his arm while he keeps going. you want him to keep going, you want to see the marks he leaves tomorrow and every other day. you want everyone to look at you and know that he’s the one who left them. and you think your wish is about to come true.

your fingers let go of his arms and he groans against your skin—there’s no words but you know he didn’t want you to stop. instead you guide them to both sides of his face, staring up at him and then bringing him back in for another kiss. you think you’d be perfectly content to do this forever, that you could spend hours, days, weeks in bed kissing andrew cody. that you’d be stupid to ever leave this bed, leave this house, when there’s a man here who kisses you like each touch of your lips is a prayer, like he’s here to worship. 

he’s not hesitant anymore, not wondering if you’re going to pull away and walk out and ask to pretend this never happened. you keep your hands on his face, and then work down to his jaw and neck, clasping your arms around to keep him in place. 

and his mind is empty. he thinks he should know what to do with you, with your labile body flush against his, all the things he’s been thinking about for the last months, if not at least what he was thinking since this morning. you’re still in your little dress, one of the thin straps fallen over your shoulder and dangling on the skin of your upper arm. he pulls away and you whine, another noise he wishes he could capture somehow. it’s a melody, one he wants to keep hearing. 

you wish he hadn’t stopped the kiss, and you expect him to lean right back in after you both catch your breath, but he doesn’t. andrew’s hovering over you, eyes fixated on your shoulder, staring intently at the strap of your dress. 

“andrew?” you whisper, the hand on his neck rubbing the tense skin there, wondering if you could get your kiss back. “is something wrong?”

his lovely eyes flicker up to you, staring while you swallow and wait patiently. maybe you’d been too eager, maybe he was having regrets—after all, you’re the nanny and he’s the dad and maybe you’d been too presumptuous in assuming that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him—

“no. nothing’s wrong.” you sigh a tiny breath of relief, it comes out before you even notice. but andrew is nothing if not perceptive, and he wraps his hand around your back and lays you back on his bed. 

“why did you stop?” you question, flustered and embarrassed as the words come out, sounding like a spoiled child. but you suppose you had been spoiled these last few hours, getting everything you wanted—his hot touch, breathless kisses, the ability to finally see what the veins on his arms feel like under your palm. 

he doesn’t answer your question, just flicks his eyes back to your shoulder. and then he leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the end of your collarbone, tracing more kisses down through the length of your shoulder, stopping when he reaches the skimpy cotton of your dress. you take deep breaths, watching it happen in front of you. he repeats the same with the other side, pulls the strap down like he’s unfolding a gift, kisses your skin like you’re his present. and you think you are.

there’s nothing between you two except your thin dress, and you pull on it eagerly, trying to get it off, when his hands come and stop on top of yours.

“you’ll rip it,” andrew says, fingers going towards the zipper in the back, undoing it slowly.

“i don’t care,” breathless, eager, unable to wait even another minute to get what you want. he pulls the zipper all the down, your dress falling off as your shrug out of it. 

and you want another kiss, you want his touch, you want something, anything—but all you get is andrew staring at your naked body. and you think somehow this is worse than anything else, anticipation burning in your belly painfully. your thighs feel sticky and sore and your underwear is soaked through. and all he’s done is kiss you. 

“you’re perfect,” he says quietly, and you feel your entire face burn hot. you don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before—and you know how andrew is. he doesn’t lie, he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. 

you tilt your head up, pressing your lips to his for a moment, a soft kiss in contrast to the ones from earlier.

“so are you,” and you kiss him again, smiling against his mouth. he feels it, though he doesn’t smile back. and when he pulls away, he looks down at you, naked and willing in his bed, smiling up at him and telling him he’s perfect, when you don’t even know half the monster he is. “you are,” you repeat, watching andrew’s eyes as he thinks a million thoughts in his head, carries a million burdens on his shoulders. “even if you don’t believe me. i think you’re perfect.” 

you feel cheesy saying it, though you know there isn’t another man in the world who needs to hear it more. you can hear him make a noise of protest, like he doesn’t think you mean it, and incredibly desperate for him to believe you, you sit up.

your hands go to sturdy shoulders while you try to get him to move, until he’s sitting back against the headboard and you can crawl onto his lap. he’s silent, watching you as you do it, exposed body flush against his skin, and yet, you don’t feel scared. you don’t feel embarrassed, or worried. you just want to make him feel good.

you start with a kiss to his jaw. andrew’s body tenses under yours, the slightest bit of contact making him groan and buck up, his hands tight on the soft skin of your waist to keep you both steady. you work your way down to his neck, pressing kisses everywhere in your path. 

“do you want to know what i’ve thought about you?” you ask, though you don’t wait for an answer. you kiss down his chest, stopping at the strong muscles of his chest and the old bruises and scars that cover some of them. “i thought that you’re so good at taking care of your family.” you move down to his abs, more kisses, hearing more noises from andrew that you never would have thought he would make for you. he takes shuddering breaths, not replying to you but grunting from pleasure while you keep going. “i thought that you’re so good to me. that i don’t have to worry since i know i can always come to you.” you think of your car and the money he gives you and how you woke up in bed despite falling asleep on the couch. 

finally you make your way to the waistband of his jeans, undoing the belt with surprisingly steady hands. he reaches down, his hands covering yours for a moment, but you stare up at him with your glassy eyes, not even pulling the entire belt off, just enough to get you what you need—what you want. and then you undo his zipper, tug down his boxers, and take his girthy length into your hand, stroking up and down while still staring up at him. 

“can i take care of you, andrew?” and you don’t realize how it must sound to him, his head thudding back onto the pillow. you press a gentle kiss to his leaking tip, both hands wrapped around his dick and stroking while you wait for your answer. 

“y-yes, yes-” and you don’t wait any longer, taking as much of andrew into your mouth as you can fit. you drive your mouth up and down, your hands twisting around the base, everything wet and warm and sticky from your spit. and you think you would do this forever, that you would do this everyday if you could hear the noises he makes and how his body takes the pleasure you give him. you gag around him, feeling his hand snake into your hair, pulling you off gently. you smile up at him, though you’re sure you look like a mess, hot tears running down your cheeks and lips shiny and wet. 

but you don’t stop—licking up and down until you bring him back into your mouth. you can feel how embarrassingly wet you are right now, can feel yourself leaking onto your thighs and the sheets, wanting friction as badly as you wanted to make andrew feel good right now. and then you hear it—andrew’s moan, louder than any of the other noises and full and from the chest. he bucks up into your mouth and you take it, ready to hear what he sounds like when he finishes, when he pulls you off of him. 

“andrew—” you whine, as though you were the one about to come. he pulls you up, naked bodies pushed against each other, and kisses you until you feel light-headed.

“not until you do,” he murmurs, and you feel dizzy all over again.

“but i’m not done,” still eager to kiss the rest of his body and tell him how good he is, until he starts to believe you. you wrangle out of his loose grip, knowing full well if he wanted to stop, he could have. he could pin you down and do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t be able to fight him, a thought that makes you feel like you’re going to faint. but you resume quickly, starting at his shoulders—stopping to admire all the sunspots spattered there—and starting your journey again, working down his bicep and to his freckled forearm, the ones you stared at whenever the opportunity presented itself, the one you thought about all the time.

andrew doesn’t know about that, and you’re not sure you can bear to tell him. it feels too revealing, despite how you’re naked on top of him, your breasts pressed against him and wet pussy on top of his hard, leaking dick. but sure—that’s what you get nervous about. 

you stop and trace all the veins with your fingers, feeling him pulse underneath you, repeating on both sides. he’s got his head tilted back, soft groans filling the empty space between you as you keep going. if they’re this sensitive for him, you can only imagine what it would feel like for you, especially the one leading down to the middle of his wrist—and then the words slip out before you can realize you had said them out loud.

your face goes hot again. he looks up at you a little confused, and you have to stop yourself from collapsing and burying your face into the pillow next to you.

“andrew?” you ask, shy and embarrassed and yet not stopping yourself at all. 

“you… you like my arms?” he says, and you feel your face heat up.

but so many things have happened already that you couldn’t have even dreamt about twenty-four hours ago, so you think it’s worth a shot. (that’s a lie. you have dreamt about this, so many times that you’ve woken up in your bed covered in a cold sweat, that you’ve burned through a vibrator and ruined pillows imagining what it would be like to rub yourself against his veiny arms. you guess you’re about to find out). 

your fingers trace the length of them again.

“i like everything about you,” you say quietly, understanding just how silly you sound. “but we don’t have to do anything.” you try to cover your tracts, worried you’ve just messed up the incredible time you’ve been having so far littering his body with kisses and feeling butterflies in your cunt from the fact that andrew will be inside of you soon. 

“how would you-” andrew starts, and you watch him carefully as he gets out the next few words. “do it? how?” and it’s just cut and dry way he speaks, though it’s really going to your head (and other places) right now. 

“well, i-”

“show me.” oh. 

you feel yourself pulse and throb in response to his words. even below you, you can still feel how hard andrew is. you try to start positioning yourself, but you must be moving too slowly for him, and you feel his hand on your ass, grabbing you and pushing you up to his chest, face to face. he lays his arm next to you, watching your naked body as you try to balance yourself between it, his free arm on your hip, keeping you steady. 

when you lower yourself, just an inch or two, just until you feel the ridge of his forearm and you can decide what to do after realizing that you are, in fact, doing this, andrew curses under his breath.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he can feel it. feel you, on his arm, leaking, for him. you take a deep breath, pressing your hands against his chest to keep your balance, moving your hips up and down slowly. and your eyes flutter shut because fuck, if it isn’t better than every fantasy you’ve ever had.

you hadn’t known that your pathetic attempts to recreate this at home would have never lived up to the real thing, and now you realize you’ll never be able to go back to anything else but andrew, that no one else could make you feel this way. months of pent-up desire leave your body as you rock yourself against him, finally getting the stimulation you’ve been craving.

when you open your eyes, just for a second, you see andrew, his eyes glued to where your pussy meets his arm, his breaths heavy and deep, like he wouldn’t look away from the sight before him for anything.

and then you feel the veins rub against your clit, and your eyes roll back into your head. you keep going, trying to muffle your moans and sighs, but you can’t get the image out of your head—andrew staring at you, like he wanted this as much as you’ve wanted it, like he needs to see you cum like this. you start going faster, the friction and the slide from your juices making it easier and the veins rubbing at you just the right way—

he leans in, putting one of your peaked nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, before letting go and repeating the same with the other one. but it’s really when andrew starts talking that you’re pulled over the edge, his hand hot on your back.

“please,” he says, and you feel yourself falling into it, hanging onto every raspy word, so much better than you could have ever dreamed, “-i-i need you to cum for me. i need to feel you, i need to see it, please-”

and you do. you always listen to andrew, all the white-hot tension wound up in your belly releasing, flooding your entire body with the relief you’ve been wanting all night. your body tightens up, stopping, but he moves you with the huge hand on your hip, makes you rub on him all through it, pulling your body like you’re a toy for him.

your mind is empty while your toes curl and uncurl, thighs aching and sore in this position. andrew ushers you towards him, and you collapse on his chest, heaving and sweaty and tired—and the realization hits you that he hasn’t even been inside of you yet.

he kisses you while he has you trapped in his arms, your eyes shut as you breathe him in, moan into his mouth and let him swallow it. 

“y-your arm,” you get out, realizing you’re not speaking in coherent sentences. “i’m sorry-”

“why?” he asks, and you shut up instantly. “didn’t know you liked them that much.” 

he laughs quietly, a sound you have only heard a few times. you laugh against his chest for a moment, before pulling him in for another kiss. this time, it deepens, and he gets you on your back in front of him before he pulls away. you stare up at him, mind empty and chest heaving, seeing how his eyes stay on your tits, and you reach up, putting your hands on his chest while he hovers over you.

“it might hurt,” he says, and you feel your entire body tighten, your walls clench at his words. there’s nothing but truth behind his statement—it’s not meant to be arrogant or boastful, he’s warning you. it’s going to hurt, you know it is—you could barely fit half of him in your mouth and it took you both hands to be able to comfortably stroke him.

but the way he says it elicits a fire in you, and suddenly you need him now, no matter how much it hurts. 

“i don’t care, andrew, please,” you beg, staring up at him. he still hovers, licking his lips and staring at your how tits bounce while you beg him to fuck you—a thought that he cannot process, even with you splayed out in front of him. he brings his arms out, fingers teasing your sensitive nipples until you’re covering your own mouth to avoid being too loud and you think you’re going to black out. (even in the dim light you can see the shine on his forearm from you, and the memory of it takes over your mind like a twister.) 

“i have to stretch you out first.” the words possess your body like a demon. andrew takes your knees and spreads them apart, and no matter how hard you try to close them, you can’t compete against him. when he slides in one huge finger, your eyes roll back. he slips in so easily, the noise is obscene. the second finger goes in just as quickly, but there’s more resistance. two of his fingers are at least three of yours (if not more, you think, and then you want to faint again). the stretch is delicious, your pulsing walls realizing that this has been what you’ve been craving all along. that no toys or pillows or fingers of your own could ever compare.

when he slips a third finger in, he doesn’t change the pace. just keeps pushing them in and out of you like you’re a toy he’s testing the limits with, seeing how much you can take before you break. there’s no instructions for you besides to sit back and take it—and your toes curl and your head spins at how good he feels. the stretch hurts, but you want it so badly, you hear yourself crying out and saying incoherent things. you think you see andrew smile from where he is, watching your cunt suck his fingers in, his entire hand coated in your juices.

and when he hovers over you, bringing his tip to your entrance and prodding against you for a moment, you think you’re in heaven. he’s so flushed, tips of ears and his cheeks pink, sweat coating his body, just like yours. you can only imagine how hard he is, how you’ll get to feel how hard he is soon enough. his eyes stay at your pussy, pushing in, just barely, but you need more. you bring your hands to his arms, holding onto him while he slides in, and when you feel him push all the way in—so much bigger than you could have imagined, three of his fingers is nothing compared to this, nothing, nothing, nothing—he’s on top of you and kissing you. 

whatever noises you make are tuned out—your ears are ringing and you can’t hear anything besides andrew’s grunts and moans as they come into your mouth. you keep kissing him, pulling on his lower lip and feeling his tongue on yours, but your entire body goes slack when he starts on a brutal pace, pulling all the way out and slamming into you. the bed is creaky, and the only noise besides it is the obscene one—the squelch of your soaking wet cunt taking andrew all the way, the repetitive slap of his skin meeting yours. you feel everything—the pressure of his hands while he holds you incredibly tightly, the fullness in your cunt that makes it feel like you can’t breathe.

and then andrew kisses your lips and makes a noise that makes you leak even more, and you know you’ll be just fine.

“i-i want-” he starts, and you feel him slow down the pace slightly.

“please, andrew,” you beg, and he resumes, fucking into you with an intensity that reminds you how badly he wants you, how long he’s wanted this. it reminds you of every time you caught him staring, every time you smiled at him wondering what he was thinking. and now you think you know—maybe he was thinking about something like this.

“i want another one,” he says into the skin of your neck, feeling him lick the sweat there and kiss the skin. “i want to feel it while i’m inside-” and god if you can’t comply. you want to do every single thing he tells you for the rest of your life, you don’t want to make another decision without andrew cody. 

he changes the position, pulling out of you for a second and making you whine again. (spoiled, you think, he’s spoiled me for anyone else forever.) he holds both of your knees up and spreads them wide and wraps your arms around them, keeping them in place. and then he slides back inside of you in one swift movement, making your eyelids flutter shut. he doesn’t get right on top of you, leaving space between you that makes it impossible to lean in for a kiss, and you keep whining, impossibly and irrationally angry that you can’t kiss him, wondering why he wants you like this, when you feel his fingers circle your clit slowly—then quickly.

your head falls back onto the pillow. andrew can feel you pulsing around him, walls clenching every time he rubs your sensitive clit, and that’s what he wants, that’s what he needs, wants to feel you cum around his dick and squeeze him even tighter than you are right now. wants to see how you look completely fucked out, wants to see if you can give him a third. (he’ll get it, he decides, later. he’ll give you a chance to breathe, get you water after this. all the things he would do to take care of you, just like how you deserve, how a husband would take care of his wife.) 

because at the end of the day, isn’t that what you two basically already are? you couldn’t be a girlfriend, because you have to get comfortable around a girlfriend. 

no, he thinks, watching your fucked-out, flushed body take him like you were made for it. you already know him, know what he likes and doesn’t like, know how to make him feel good like you had been inside of his head already. you have been inside. you’re all he thinks about. that’s a wife, that is something that is forever, what the two of you have. 

he doesn’t realize how hard he’s going, how fast, or how you’ve been squealing with your entire body tensing while he was stuck in his thoughts about you. this time when you finish, it explodes through you, the electric current staring from your core and spreading to every finger and toe. you jolt, legs shaking and head heavy, the after effect rolling through you while andrew keeps fucking you, keeps going even though he should probably stop. you’re incoherent, writhing and crying and feeling completely numb and like your entire body is burning all at once. 

and when you blink open your watery eyes at andrew, smile sweetly and reach out for a kiss, one that he happily gives you, you say it quietly.

“i love you, andrew.” and you feel his thrusts stutter, his body weight almost collapsing on you. you feel andrew cum, feel it filling you up while you listen to his quiet moans and run your hands over his tense muscles, saying sweet things that he can barely understand in this state. 

he rolls over minutes later, not pulling out until you were done kissing him. the room is filled with nothing but your heavy breaths. you need a shower, and you need to sleep.

you curl up on andrew’s chest like you had been on the couch what felt like a lifetime ago. you play with his fingers and he runs his other hand up and down the expanse of your arm. you can hear birds outside—and you know you need to get up soon, but you can’t find any words. 

“you think that was enough?” andrew asks, and you look up at him with a confused expression. he looks at you with so much sincerity you feel like crying. your andrew.

“what do you mean?” you ask quietly, still not sure what he’s even talking about. your head is spinning and your eyes are tired—every part of you is tired.

“we can go again after you get some sleep. it might take more than once.”

“andrew?”

“you don’t have to worry about it. i’ll figure it out. i won’t stop until i put a baby in you.”

♡ thank you for reading

[lingeriae]

🧘🏾‍♀️

"man, fuck you."

the silence that comes after your words is almost deadly, and it causes your heart to sink.

the sleek black fridge hums in the silence, your eyes are drawn to it as you hear his heavy foot steps move towards you, it's so calm it causes your nerves to rise. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he stops infront of you, his muscular body only inches away from being pressed against yours.

your anxious, and a bit excited for what you know is about to come, keeping on a poker face and looking straight, refusing to look up at him.

eren pokes his inner cheek with his tongue as he looks down at you, an eyebrow raised and a dangerous look on his face. a look you were far too familiar with, a look that only meant one thing.

he chuckles, the sound is deep and attractive, fitting for a prettyboy like himself. "s'that right?"

a shudder racked throughout your body at the threat posed as a question, he was testing you, giving you a chance to redeem yourself before he fucked you up. on any other day, you would jump to fix up your words and tone, knowing what would happen if you didn't, but you didn't feel like doing that shit today. not after he ignored you almost the whole day.

maybe you were being dramatic - no fuck that. this is his fault.

you got all dressed up for him, wearing a cute lil lingeriae (wink wonk) that annoyingly went up your ass just for him, only for you to be ignored and neglected like you weren't walking around with the most bomb pussy.

it happened a few hours ago but even now you're still fucking pissed, eren was off work today and your package came early so you decided to suprise him. he was playing his games when you decided to walk in. hips swinging, titties sitting and your sunkissed skin glowing with the shea butter and baby oil you rubbed it with earlier. he cursed loudly as he shot at whatever the fuck he was shooting at on screen, and cussed out connie for being slow, his gaze not moving from the screen even once to acknowledge your presence. it annoyed you a little, but you didn't let that bother you smiling slyly as you walked up to him.

"ren," you called sweetly, swayin on your feet lightly and bitting your bottom lip as you waited for his jade green eyes to meet yours only for your plump lips to downturn when he quickly mumbled out a 'yeah, baby?' without sparring you a single glance. you were starting to get pissed off, was it so fucking hard for him to give you attention?

with a huff you leaned over, taking his jaw into your hand to turn his head towards you, ignoring the complaints he let out. a smile tugged at your lips at the way he paused, looking you up and down and licking his pink lips which parted for a second before you heard talking from his headset, you felt your smile slip as he looked back to the screen.

"eren-"

he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes still not leaving the screen, your frown going unnoticed. "gimme a second babe, m'almost done." your nose scrunched up as you stared at the brunette infront of you, in disbelief of him choosing a fucking game over you. rolling your eyes you walked out of the room, making sure to slam the door shut behind you.

which leads you to being moody all day.

the pretty princess that he was used to no longer being present as you stomped your pretty feet every where you went, face screwed up, side-eyeing the brown haired male every chance you get and mumbling slick shit under your breath.

eren was oblivious to why you were acting this way, and he was slowly getting sick of it. his last straw being when he asked you to pass him a cup only for you to just look at him bad out of the corner of your eyes and fix your pretty lips to ask him

"your hands broke?"

the smell of your vanilla and marshmellow body mist floods his senses as he inhales, his eyes dropping down to your neck to see the glitter that sparkles there. your fucking delicious, is what he thinks as he watches you avoid him with low lidded eyes, a hand comes up to turn your face towards him so that you make eye-contact with him.

you try not to shiver, pursing your lips as you look at him. "who you giving all that attitude to?"

you try to hold in the whimper that threatens to fall from your lips from the tone of his voice, how you could feel it vibrating through you and how your panties soaked with arousal with just that alone.

it isn't fair, the hold he has on you, the reactions he can pull from you by doing the least. his grip tightens on your jaw when you attempt to pull your face away from him, gaze blazing with heat and a thick eyebrow raising as he waited for you to respond.

rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms across your chest, tongue running acorss your top row of teeth. "aint got time for this."

green eyes squinted at you before eren's entire face went blank, he tilted his head at you and you watched as his brown hair swayed with the movement, your body tensing as your face remained blank. "you sure?" those two words have never seemed dangerous until now, paired with the look on his face, it would have anyone shaking in there boots, it shouldn't have excited you but it did.

inhaling deeply, eren listened to the humming of the fridge, trying his best to calm down and not do anything irrational as he knew how your cry-baby ass was. he looked down at you again, watching as you twisted your lips and looked away from him, trying to keep a poker face, his lips quirked up at the side a little, barely noticeable, knowing that you wont be acting this way in a couple of minutes.

"gonna tell me why you're acting like this?"

biting your tongue, you shook your head. "nothing bro, it's fine." you attempt to move past him, his hand lashes out and holds your hips, brinig you back to where you were before which causes you to sigh annoyingly.

"nah, what's up?" eren waited for your reply patiently, watching as you just stared at him with your lips jutted out. he waits, and his patients runs thin.

he lets out a breath through his nose. "cool."

and that's all it takes for you to be in this position, back arched perfectly with your supple breats pressed against the counter top as eren fucks you from behind, chorus' of moans leaving your lips.

"e-eren wait!"

"wait on what? don't play with me, take it and don't run." you felt a pleasurable sting on your ass, gifted to you by the man who was rearranging your guts with vigor.

not once did he stop or pause, lifting your foot so he could plunge into your deeper.

he grabs a fist of your hair, bringing his lips to your ear allowing you to hear the raspiness and deepiness of his tone as he fucked you.

"this what you wanted right...nasty fucking attitude cause you wanted some dick."

feeling the pleasure build in your tummy, begging for a release you grip unto the counter as eren's paced sped up. a series of broken sentences and sweet moans leaving your plump liips as he bullied your pussy with his cock.

"if dick's what you want, ima fucking spoil you with it."

[the-bi-library]

Here are bisexual books out in November 🩷💜💙

Books listed:

I Am the Dark That Answers When You Call by Jamison Shea

Back in the Rain by Elen Chase

Witch Queen of Redwinter (The Redwinter Chronicles, #3) by Ed McDonald

Make Room for Love by Darcy Liao

Just Like Christmas by Annabel den Dekker

Lady Hell by Alyssa Page

Rani Choudhury Must Die by Adiba Jaigirdar

The Anonymous Letters of C Forestier by Felicia Davin

Hearts and Stars by Phoenix Kathryn Time and Tide by J.M. Frey

Merry in Moose Falls by Emily Silver

Plagued Lands by Nikki Brooke

Leap by Simina Popescu

A Hard Fit by Jennifer Moffatt

I'm Sorry If I Scared You by Mae Murray

The Twice-Sold Soul by Katie Hallahan

The Last Hour Between Worlds by Melissa Caruso

Of Hoarfrost and Blood by Scarlet Tempest

Our Deadly Designs (This Dark Descent, #2) by Kalyn Josephson

Monsoon Queen by Jo Carthage

Afterglow by Emily Antoinette

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in November 2024 🌈

🌈 Good morning, my bookish bats! Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Happy reading!

❓What was the last queer book you read?

[ Release dates may have changed. ]

❤️ I Am the Dark That Answers When You Call - Jamison Shea 🧡 Snowed in With You - Reba Bale 💛 Fire Spells Between Friends - Sarah Wallace & S.O. Callahan 💚 Ho Ho Homicidal Maniac - K.A. Merikan 💙 Escape to the Sea - Alex Callan & Angelica Babineaux 💜 She's Always Hungry - Eliza Clark 💛 Phoenix Rising - Emily Hayes 💙 A Flower's Fatal Thorn - Jordan Dugdale 💜 A Sharper, More Lasting Pain - Alex Harvey-Rivas

❤️ The Librarian's Gargoyle - Evelyn Shine 🧡 Dead Girls Don't Dream - Nino Cipri 💛 Of Hoarfrost and Blood - Scarlet Tempest 💚 Judgement - Lucas Delrose 💙 Deadline for Love - Candi Tab 💜 Wake Up, Nat & Darcy - Kate Cochrane ❤️ All the Truth I Can Stand - Mason Stokes 🧡 Celia - Addison James 💛 A Diamond Bright and Broken - Holly Davis 💙 Hexed - Emily McIntire 💜 Hometown Christmas - Laura Conway 🌈 This Christmas - Georgia Beers

❤️ Suite Heart - Jade Winters 🧡 We All Fall - Arden Coutts 💛 Taiwan Travelogue - Yáng Shuāng-zǐ 💚 Pit Stop - L.M. Bennett 💙 The Damaged Hearts Bargain - Sienna Waters 💜 War of Night - Greyson Black & E. Scott Clevenger 🧡 I'll be Boned for Christmas - Katherine McIntyre 💜 All You Want for the Holidays - Quinton Li 🌈 Queer as Folklore - Sacha Coward

❤️ Time and Tide - J.M. Frey 🧡 Ghost of the Heart - Catherine Friend 💛 Flopping in a Winter Wonderland - Jason June 💚 All the Painted Stars - Emma Denny 💙 Currency in Flesh - Heather Nix 💜 I Really Do - Emily K. Hardy ❤️ Something Close to God - Erika del Carmen Ruiz 🧡 The Crack at the Heart of Everything - Fiona Fenn 💛 Undeniable You - Chelsea M. Cameron 💙 The Twice-Sold Soul - Katie Hallahan 💜 Always on My Mind - Kelsey Painter 🌈 Interstellar MegaChef - Lavanya Lakshminarayan

❤️ Don't Break Character - Jules Landry 🧡 Rani Choudhury Must Die - Adiba Jaigirdar 💛 Remnants of Filth: Yuwu - Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou 💚 Sugar, Spice, and Christmas Nice - Anne Hagan 💙 The Wishing Tree - Barbara Winkes 💜 Love on Moonlight Lake - Adriana Sargent ❤️ Mistletoe Motel - Lise Gold 🧡 The Royal They - KJ Sinclair 💛 My So-Called Family - Gia Gordon 💙 Frosted by the Girl Next Door - Aurora Rey & Jaime Clevenger 💜 The Star-Crossed Empire - Maya Darjani 🌈 A Hard Fit - Jennifer Moffatt

❤️ The Sacred Heart Motel - Grace Kwan 🧡 Leap - Simina Popescu 💛 I Dare You - Regena Mercy 💚 Love Lessons - Mary Ellen Capek 💙 Afterglow - Emily Antoinette 💜 In the Back Row With You - Natasha West ❤️ Make Room for Love - Darcy Liao 🧡 Here Goes Nothing - Emma K. Ohland Just for the Holidays - Micah Carver

❤️ Cookies, Candles, and Cute Butts for Christmas - Cameron D. James & Cali Kitsu 🧡 Objects in Mirror - N.W. Downs 💛 Sleigh Bells Ring - Alyson Root 💚 Real Tree / Fake Boyfriend - Ree Thomas 💙 Out of the Storm - Logan Sage Adams 💜 Hungry Heart - Jem Milton ❤️ A Wild and Ruined Song - Ashley Shuttleworth 🧡 Beneath Her Power - Margaux Fox 💛 Thanks for Listening - Molly Horan 🌈 The Lotus Empire - Tasha Suri

❤️ Naughty November - Anthology 🧡 Hearts and Stars - Phoenix Kathryn 💛 Guarding Her Gangster Queen - Persephone Black 💚 The Shadow Spinner - Eric Kao 💙 Black, Queer, and Untold - Jon Key 💜 Hall of Shadows - Mariah Stillbrook ❤️ The Last Hour Between Worlds - Melissa Caruso 🧡 A Crimson Covenant - Aimee Donnellan 💛 Isaac - Curtis Garner 💙 Vineyard Dreams - Carol Wyatt 💜 Kiss of Death - Bryony Rosehurst 🌈 The Many Mistakes of Amy Love - RA Hunter

❤️ Accidentally in Love - Kimberly Cooper Griffin 🧡 Unwrapped - D. Jackson Leigh 💛 Hot Honey Love - Nan Campbell 💚 Havoc for the Holidays - Jay Leigh 💙 London - Patricia Evans 💜 Fatal Foul Play - David S. Pederson ❤️ The Gift of Us - Abigail Taylor 🧡 Upon the Midnight Queer - 'Nathan Burgoine 💛 The Christmas Pic - Rena Sapon-White & Ella Schaefer 💙 Seducing Scylla - Lex Logan 💜 Fated Winds and Promising Seas - Rose Black 🌈 A Surprise For The Holidays - Anna Sparrows

❤️ Immortal Hunger - KL Bone 🧡 Love and Loyalty - Emily Hayes 💛 A Kingdom of Lies - Ben Alderson 💚 Christmas Dreams - Carol Wyatt 💙 Wrecked for the Holidays - Kerry Kilpatrick ❤️ Not for the Faint of Heart - Lex Croucher 🧡 Phoenix Found - T.J. Nichols 💛 Room for Two - Rochelle Wolf 💙 The Long Winter of Miðgarðr - Edale Lan 💜 A Handyman for the Holidays - Valerie Gomez 🌈 Sundown in San Ojuela - M.M. Olivas

[duckprintspress]

Fandom 101: Getting Started on Fanlore.org

Not long ago, we at Duck Prints Press decided that we’d like the Press to have a page on Fanlore. To accomplish that, Press contributor Shea Sullivan made an account and figured out the nuts and bolts on how to add pages to Fanlore. Turns out, it’s not very hard, and now in this guest blog post, Shea will teach y’all how to do it too!

Making Your First Fanlore Page!

Hello! I am an editor on Fanlore as of a few days ago. Before that, I’d worked with mediawiki (the open source platform Fanlore uses) for unrelated projects, so I had a general understanding of how things worked, but no idea how Fanlore preferred their pages to be formatted or organized or linked.

This is how I got started!

First: What is Fanlore and Why Should You Care?

Fanlore is a wiki specifically dedicated to the fandom experience. It’s not for canon info about a specific fandom; rather, it’s for information about how fans interact with media and each other. Fanlore is run by the OTW, the same organization that brings us our beloved AO3. This context helped me in understanding the focus of Fanlore. It’s about fandom: the ups, the downs, the trends, the drama…all the things that can get lost forever when sites disappear or there’s a purge. And that said…well, you may still not care. But if you do, read on!

Second: You Care. Now What?

(read more)

Get an account. Right now. It’s worth getting the account, because you won’t be able to create new pages for a few hours. So, get the account first, figure out what to do with it later.

Go to fanlore.org and click on “Create Account” in the upper right-hand corner:

Third: You Have the Power (Soon)!

Read up! No need to invent the wheel in this post – they’ve got some great resources for getting started already written on their webpage.

Fanlore Getting Started Page

General Help Pages on Fanlore

Four hours after you create your account, you can create pages! Congrats! There are a ton of help pages out there, but the questions I had initially were:

How do I make sure this page doesn’t exist already?

Search. Search for the page. Search for key phrases associated with the page. A page name is a fiddly thing, so search for significant phrases in a few different ways before you determine it doesn’t exist. Always make sure you check before you set out to create page!

How do I add this page?

If it’s not there, you’ll see it come up in red when you search. Type the page name you want to create in the search bar. Click “Search” to get all the results, and then click on that red link.

How do I format this page?

You now have an empty page. When I was getting started, my big question was: what should my page look like? Well, Fanlore has templates that can help with that! The templates are in a markup language, but do not fear! Copy and paste the template (everything in the blue box on the template page, typically starting with curly braces), make some updates, and click “Preview.” You can repeat those steps indefinitely until you get the hang of the markup. There’s also a ton of information on the Fanlore.org cheatsheet. (If you’re still confused, keep reading, there’s more specifics under the infobox section.)

Once you have the page created and published, you can edit it without the markup language if you prefer – there’s “Edit,” which gives you a non-code-based option, and an “Edit Source” button, which gives you the code-based option.

If your proposed page topic doesn’t have an official template created for that topic, you can look up similar pages and see how they’re structured.  If you’re not sure how they managed to make something look a certain way, click the “Edit Source” button and look at the code there to get a sense of what they did. Be sure to cancel out of the edit when you’re done so you don’t make unintentional changes to someone else’s page! Some pages are locked down (like the template pages) so you can’t make edits, but most “normal” pages will have those links at the top so you can dig in and see what’s there and how the people who wrote that page made it look the way it does.

How do I add an infobox?

Those infoboxes on the right of a lot of pages give a quick overview of important information. These are templates, and you can find a list of available infobox templates here.

The templates, when you click into them, have a heading and some info that you can fill in. You can’t remove items from the template without making a new template, which I don’t recommend trying when you’re getting started. Use the template, fill in the information, and mark “N/A” if you don’t have information to insert in a specific field. A sample template for an infobox looks like this, and you fill in information after each “equals” sign. You can add a list, and you can add links to these after the equals sign using the markup for internal and external links on the Cheatsheet.

{{FanProfile |name=  |alias(es)= |type= |fandoms= |communities= |other= |url= }}

If you’re still confused, let’s go to Astolat’s fan page and click “Edit Source” and see how the infobox looks behind the scenes:

See how everything that was in the original template is still there, there’s just a list of information after the equals sign?

And here’s how it looks formatted:

How do I categorize this page?

Categories are important because they help Fanlore’s back-end coding group pages together so people can find the page you’ve created and so the page is in the right place in the site map. If you can’t figure it out, though, don’t worry, there are people who will find it and take care of it!

If you have an infobox from a template, this is taken care of. 

If you didn’t use an infobox template, you can add a Category to index the page.

Finding a Category can be a little overwhelming. If you have an example page (another page that contains the same type of content as yours), you can scroll to the bottom of that page and see what Category has been assigned to it. You can add that Category to your page by editing the source and adding that category into your page at the bottom with 2 square brackets, like this: [[Category:YourCategory]]

Use “Preview” to make sure you set it up correctly before saving the page.

If you need to find a category and can’t find a good example page, I recommend going to the sitemap, finding what fits your article the best, and clicking into it. Categories are set up in hierarchies, so click through until you find the Category and Subcategory that fits best.

Add it at the very bottom of the page, and it should show up when you preview, at the very bottom of the page.

How do I add those nifty citation references[1]?

Review theFanlore page on citation formatting for details. The basics are:

Add a blank References heading at the bottom of the page.

Add tags and include the source information.

What is the difference between a citation and an external link? Good question! I don’t know for sure, but the way I’ve been using it, if I make a statement about a thing and I want to direct you to the “proof” (article, webpage, etc), I will use a citation. If there is a thing I’m linking to because it is relevant but not as proof of what I’m saying on the wiki, I will add it as an external link.

Fourth: Don’t Worry

You’ll find there are a lot of instances when you might not be sure what the “right” way is to do whatever it is you’re trying to do. Don’t let that stop you! Do a little research, do your best, and be okay with a learning curve.

The thing about wiki editing in general, and this includes Fanlore, is that it’s a community project, and everyone is doing their best. It’s worthwhile to think about trying to make your pages consistent with other pages where you can, because it will help people who are trying to find what you’re providing. So, poke around similar pages first and look for common trends in how they’re organized, and mimic that for your own page.

All that said, there is very little hierarchy in editors and few rules set in stone. It’s a community site put together by volunteers. You may find that you’ve labeled, referenced, cited, categorized, etc, a page incorrectly, or that you added a page that was already there under another name, or you may have put in a canon page when that’s really not what Fanlore is for. No problem! A page can be reverted to a previous version. It can be removed by a “Gardener” (higher-level editor), or edited by someone else who is more familiar with the inner wiki workings, or you can even tweak it yourself when you learn a better ways to code the page. 

There is always a path forward, so get in there and get started!

Happy creating, happy fandom, and welcome!

GO VISIT FANLORE NOW!

[neonovember]

Golden Boy

part three of three

warnings; filth, angst, lover boy, self deprecation, anxiety, mentions of death, smut, heartbreak, fluff, face fucking, oral (m recieving), piv (wrap it yall), 18+, explicit language, Richie, carmen being in love, the nickname bear, some very not so slef inserted heartbreak and love confessions

w/c: 6k

a/n: this request really changed from a drabble to a 3 part series holy fuck i need a job, but really this is actually so self fulfilling to be able to deliver your requests about a character i love we all love so much! it’s like we’ve created this aesome little community here :) i love this universe sooo much so be sure there will be drabbles connected to this series

BEAR COMES OUT IN LESS THAN A DAY! LET’S START AMPING IT UP

also if anyone was wondering how i’d imagine high school!carmen it would honestly be this one edit i saw of lip ages ago lmaoo

The dull rain of the shower resounded through your bathroom, the rest of your things had been delivered in the early Friday morning, and you rushed to enjoy the high water pressure Mae had boasted about before you moved in.

The steam has begun to fog up your mirror, and you wipe a hand across it, your reflection distorted between the streaks of your fingertips. Today was the day. You would finally see Carmen again and your body was racked with fear like it was the day you left him.

After you had come back from the Farmers Market, you had received a text from Sugar, and you spent the afternoon unloading everything to her about work, your move back and most importantly Carmen. 

You and Sugar had grown close after you and Carmen had become friends, in fact, you had grown close to the entire family before you left for New York. And all it took was a phone call for you and Sugar to fall back into that familiarity once again, all you hoped was that it would be the same for you and Carmen.

Once Mae had finished up with work, the both of you, as promised shared a bottle of a wine and a blunt where she had squealed at your news of the dinner, and, despite your protests on the phone brought a rosy hued summer dress that she had begged you to keep. 

It was left on a hanger on the door hook, and you stare at the gorgeous wave of the hem, and dip of the neckline that you had got you looking at Mae in doubt. She had screamed when you had tried it now, boasting about her amazing fashion sense and how utterly ruined Carmen would be.

You steered clear from feeding into her delusions, Carmen could be married for god's sake, whilst you were thinking if he would like the colour of your dress. He was not though, you had practically burned the entire timeline of his socials into your retina and there had not been a single indication of Carmen having a partner. But he had always been sort of secretive, and you couldn't hold onto the hope that Carmen hadn’t taken a liken to any one of the hundred girls that threw themselves at him.

I mean, it wasn't like he was waiting for you, right?

The heat of the shower spread through your body and you sighed in relief as the water loosened the soreness of your muscles that had begun to ache. You had a couple hours until the time Sugar and Richie had told you to come in, and you spent it leisurely, washing your hair carefully, and scrubbing your skin clean with the multitude of products you had accumulated the second you had more money to spend on just food, rent and utilities. 

You forget to put a bath mat near the shower, and the cool stone is stained with your wet footsteps. You make quick work of drying yourself off before reaching for the same old bottle of shea butter you hadn't stopped using since high school. It was on its last leg, the worn label tearing apart, and soon enough you would have to cut it open to get to the last droplets. Old habits die hard and you had been a broke college student for a long fucking time.

After you've finished with your makeup and curling your hair so that it lay in soft blown out curls, you carefully and not so gracefully step into the dress. You don't own a lot of nice pieces like this, and you were forever grateful to Mae for coming in the way she did even despite your protests. 

Because as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you realise you look pretty fucking hot. You put on the last of your jewellery, spritz yourself with some perfume, before sliding your feet into flats that wouldn't destroy your feet. You reach for your phone, the time flashing 6:30 and later than you had anticipated.

Stress fills you at the thought of coming late, especially since you really only knew three people there, but you force yourself to calm down with a breath, realising the beef was only a 5 minute drive from your place anyway.

The drive to the Beef was one that was filled with anxiety and glee, you couldn't help keeping the smile off your face as you passed through the familiar roads leading up to the family restaurant. Despite the familiarity of the streets, your mind always finds its way back to the most familiar place of all, Carmen. You wonder what he might look like all grown into himself, you've followed his many strides in the culinary world, even if you didn't understand a bit of the kitchen itself, but you were unbelievably proud of every award he had and numerous received. But that had been all online, to see Carmen in person was a whole different thing entirely.

It was an experience, to see the way he’d body moved, from the light touches of his fingers helping you play guitar to the way he glided through the kitchen concentrating on cooking you up new recipes he’d made.

He’d take criticism from only you, even if Mickey's loud booming voice intercepted your comments from across the kitchen island. You had to sniffle back tears at the memory of it, Mickey and Carmen were so incredibly close, you feel like a fraud having not been there for him when he died, how could you even call yourself his friend? 

The truth was, you and Carmen had a horrible way of dealing with grief, you were battling with your own loss at the time, getting news of Micheal’s death only months after your own Father had died from a drunk driver. You had come back to Chicago for the funeral before running back to New York and stuffing yourself with your work. The pain had been too great then and the regret of leaving your brother and mother to clean up the mess had eaten you alive for years. 

You and Carmen had a habit of stuffing your emotions into tight spaces. Your father, Mickey, the both of your absence in each other's lives, it was a grief you wore well.

In the knots in your shoulder, in the bags underneath your eyes, in the aching hearth of your heart, in the emptiness of your suppressed stomach. As well as you could anyway.

But the world keeps turning, and the view of the renovated Beef catches your eye as you shakily turn into the car park adjacent. You can’t run now, there isn’t a back door you can slip through and a plane you can catch to escape the reality of your past. 

This was it, had this been what you had waited for? 

You can feel your heart in your throat as you walk through the car park, the soft lantern lights hanging across the top of the restaurant in ribbons. The place had changed from the last time you'd seen it, the rotting wood replaced with pristine painted planks and the cloudy windows now crystal clear. It even had a name change, replaced instead with the unmistakable nickname of Carmen,

Bear

Sugar had texted you to meet at the front, and as you bite your lip in anticipation, you see a blonde haired woman shout back a swear before walking towards the front of the Beef, her eyes catching you through the front windows, shooting up in surprise and glee, before rushing through the doors.

“Holy fucking shit! You were always hot Bug but goddamn, you outdid yourself! How are you my love?” Sugar replies, reaching to gather you in her arms. 

You press your face into the familiar scent of her, and you sigh in relief as your fears begin to dissolve, you weren't utterly alone here.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Carm is going to fucking implode when he see’s you” Sugar whispers with a grin, in which u shake yout head with a chuckle.

“Uh I don’t know about that, we haven’t really talked in, well, since High school” You reply honestly, you may have lied to Richie, but you couldn't escape Sugar’s bull-shit- detector gaze.

“You both were always so scared to make the first move, Mikey had to hold me back a couple times from just locking you both in a room and forcing you both to confess” Sugar replies with a grin

“Confess? What do you mean” You reply, and Sugar shakes her head with a chuckle,

“Don’t bullshit me Bug, it’s as clear as day. You both were inseparable then, and you will be inseparable now, everyone has their own timeline.”

You nod with a sigh, rubbing your eyes as you thought back to the call you had received asking you to join the design group in charge of revamping Madison Avenue. So much had changed since then, and it was about time that you faced what you couldn't 8 years ago.

“You changed him, ya know?” Sugar says, all of a sudden into the comfortable silence between you.

“Hm?” You reply

“I don’t know. Carm, he’s just, he’s distant, always has been. And then somehow, you became friends and there was this just change in him. He started to smile and laugh more, started opening up to us, because of you. Whether or not you realise it, you marked him in a way that was permanent you know? And when you left- well, it all went to shit, he was fucking destroyed and the only person that could help him was Mikey, and you, you get the rest of it” Sugar sighs, shaking her head as you stare at her.

“Sometimes, I’d bring you up, or-or we’d be talking about a new building, architecture or whatever, anything that related to you, and you'd just see him shutdown. He needs you hun, he doesn’t realise it but its like he’s fucking decaying without you.”

Anyone else and you would have shaken your head, but it was Sugar, and all the years you've known her she hadn't once sugar coated anything. 

“It was always going to be Carm, Sugar. A million times over and it would always be him” You reply, a tight smile on your face as you try and blink back tears, and she nods with a frown. 

“No crying, god I told myself I wouldn't cry” Sugar says, shaking her body as you laugh, sliding a hand in hers before walking into the Bear.

You aren't given enough time to investigate the changes to the restaurant, eyes glancing at pictures frames and stainless kitchen benches before stepping into a decorated back dining space, fixed with a long table covered with steaming plates of food and entrees. 

The sound of your footsteps has the entire room coming to a halt, and you scan the many people seated at the long table, their eyes watching you with a look of surprise before recognition floods across them. 

You can't recognise a single face, all unfamiliar to you but you get the strange feeling they know who you are, as they await for you to speak.

“Uh, Hello, um, you all probably have no idea who I am and this is kind of weird so-” You ramble nervously, trying and failing to introduce yourself to the many people watching your every move.

“Oh carino, you are gorgeous! You must be Carmen’s friend?” A short hispanic woman grins, making her way over to pull you into a hug, and the move causes the entire table of people to come over and introduce themselves. 

You can’t stop keeping the smile off your face, as you learn about each of the amazing people around you who have kept your sweet boy company. They were incredible, and you don’t doubt they shared a bond you only ever built working together, piecing together where Carmen had spent his time, and recognising the glimpses of faces you had seen on the walls you had walked by.

You converse easily with Sydney, a young aspiring chef who had kept Carmen on his toes, but your mind isn’t exactly present. Your eyes are glancing every second at the door, waiting for the man you've been dreaming of since you were 18 to walk through those doors.

You hear a tumble coming from the back door leading to the alleyway behind the Bear, before the familiar voice of Richie yells out incoherent curse words. You aren't able to prepare yourself for the footsteps coming up the steps and into the entrance of the dining room before Carmen cerulean blues catch you immediately. 

His eyes take their time with you, indulging in the peek of skin from the slit in the dress, before they trail up to your hips, snaking around your waist and blinking back at the dip of your cleavage. Carmen is undone, entranced by the way you hug and fill out the dress so perfectly, it does something to him he feels guilty about. Like the moments he would thrust up into the column of his fists after that one party where you leaned against him, or when he remembered the taste of your body wash.

Carmen is scared to move his eyes up to your face, fearing that he will be irrevocably gone if he does, but he does it anyway, because he's wasted enough time without you, and he can’t bear the seconds past him by without seeing the face he's dreamt of since forever

Carmen has to reach for the table near him, gripping the wood in his fists as he steadies himself when he sees you for the first time. He has to bite back his immediate response to let out a swear, his eyes trailing along every curve and line of your features he has begun to forget. The rush of memories, and feelings of you unleash within him like an unyielding current, breaking down every wall and shield he’s put up to stop it. It was fruitless, Carmen knew one day it would all come crashing down, because it was always going to be you, a thousand times over.

You let out a shaky breath as you catch his eyes fluttering over every single feature, you should feel self conscious but you don’t, you bare your entire self to him. You furrow your brow as you take in the honey caramel wisps of his hair pushed behind his ears. Your eyes catch the numerous inked sketches running along his arms and hands, you yearn to run your fingers along them, feel his veins jut out, they trail up his arm, like a stream and you have to swallow back the desire that had begun to unfurl at the vision in front of you.

He was utterly beautiful, his clean shirt contorted and stretched from the sheer size of him, the muscle and girth of his biceps and shoulders were so different to the lanky teenager you fell in love with. You feel a sadness at the thought of not seeing him since then, it had truly been too long. 

He still wore his chef apron, though it lay untied and around his neck like he had quickly run into the kitchen to fix something.

You don’t know how you’re able to form the words, but you can hear yourself calling his name like a plead

“Hey Bear” You whisper, the tears at your waterline one whisper away from falling

And it’s the simple sound of your voice that has Carmen crashing and falling, swallowing back tightly.

“Hey” 

You can make out Sugar calling everyone out to the front of the house, mumbling about flying pigs or whatever conjured up lie to leave you both alone. But it’s practically white noise around you, as your eyes remain forever on Carmen, like they always wore.

There's a silence that stretches between you two, and you feel the distance between you both from your fingertips.

“Thought I told you I’d punch your stomach if you cried” You say with a smile, tears falling down your cheeks and Carmen crumbles at your words, it's like his been hit by a freight truck, when you reminder of that day, but he still lets out chuckle, looking up at you with a grin.

“So I hear you're redesigning our very own Madison Avenue?” Carmen says, and it's like he’s been practising and rehearing the sentence over and over in his mind, it sounds more like a script than something he truly wants to say.

And you see through his bullshit, turning your head to the side as you look at him like he's translucent, and Carmen gives up before he is even able to start, what’s the point of faking it now when you could both see through each other.

“God, you're beautiful” Carmen says after a beat, the blues of his iris crashing and falling into a deeper depth as he looks at you. You blush, you never blush, you only ever blush for Bear.

“Carmen..” You whisper, the tears continuing to fall and roll down your neck

“Why didn't I tell you? God why didn't I?” Carmen says in a tight voice, like he's holding himself back, like he's holding himself from breaking, and you want to reach out and hold him instead.

You feel your heart drop, as you look up at him in anticipation, no no no??. You didn’t run half way across the state, you didn't spend years searching for Carmen in relationships and first dates, no- how? All this time. All this fucking time you could have spent with him, whether long distance, in New York, whatever, you would’ve made it work, hell you would have travelled endlessly for him.

“Why didn't you?” You breathe out. letting every tear and cry loose. And Carmen lets out a breath, your eyes communicating what your mouth could not for 10 years, letting your body shake with grief at the truth of it all.

Carmen feels his entire world breaking, he can feel the ground beneath him shake, he is consumed with you, you you you, and always and forever you.

“All this time..” Carm replies, shaking his head, laughing a little to himself as he stares at you in grief and love

“Yeah” You chuckle, before tears spill down your cheeks, and Carmen kind of breaks too, all the worries and missed time and love you would have shared out in the open between you. You both had been so foolish, so wrapped up in the fear of rejection/ruining your friendship you had ruined it all instead.

“I love you, I have loved you the moment I walked you home. I have loved you desperately, I loved you from afar, I have loved even when you didn’t know it”

“God Carmy, my sweet golden boy, I always knew it” You sniffle, and Carmen scrunches his eyebrows, grinding his teeth against his jaw as he shakes his head, undoing his apron so that he doesn’t get your gorgeous dress dirty, pulling you close to him. You reach for his hand, its size massive in yours, as you bring it to your chest

“You feel that? My heart beats for you Carmen, only you, forever you” You whisper, as you hold onto his hand tight

“I was just- I was so scared, so scared that I would ruin everything, our friendship, it was the one thing going for me and I couldn’t ask you, I couldn’t ask you to love me?” Carmen says, shaking his head like even saying the words felt stupid

“Carmen you are worth loving, I loved you then and I love you now. Sugar was telling me about how I changed you and you know what I was thinking the entire time? How everytime I think back to those years before my heart just aches. It aches because I have always been searching for you, Carm, my body yearns and reaches for you every day, you were the one thing that made me feel like I could make it out of here. That if I tried hard enough, if I had you believing in me too, I could really do it.

“And you know what Carmen? I did do it, I’m back in Chicago designing something that I believe in and I still feel so out of place. I feel scattered, like half of my body and mind is missing, and I’ve always known, even when I didn’t, that you kept that part of me. You held it safe, and I want it back, I want you back Carmen. I want my boy back.” 

“It was always going to be you Carm, that’s the truth, I love I love I love love love you” You breathe out, your heart hammering against your chest as you let all the chips fall where they may, you each Carmens face, trying to decipher the look on his face.

You want to know what he's thinking, have you scared him? Does he not love you anymore? And it's like Carmen can tell the thoughts are consuming you because you can't think of them anymore, in fact you can't think at all except the feel of Carmen lips pushed up against your own.

They’re pillowy and soft, and it takes you a second before you kiss him back with such reverence that you swallow back each other’s groans. You don’t come up for air, you won't, you can't let him slip through your fingers again, Carmen can’t let himself lose you now, with the taste of you on his tongue, so sweet like he imagined you to be.

Carmen fears he might combust, that he might dissolve into a puddle right in front of you because you taste so good, he slides a hand up your neck pressing you closer to his chest as you grip his shirt in tight fists.

Carmen can feel himself smiling into your lips, and it causes you to let out a chuckle, allowing Carmen to press his canines into your lip, just a little, a nibble that has you moaning out loudly in a way that shocks you both.

You press your body impossibly closer to Carmen’s, until you can feel him nudge against the curve of your stomach, grinding down against him until he grip’s your waist tight, pushing you deeper until you both have to let go with a breath.

“You don’t know how long I have waited to do that” Carmen says, his eyes still shut, like he was savouring the taste of you that was on his tongue, on his lips, his skin, everywhere. Carmen wanted you everywhere.

“And how long I have waited to do this” You trail your nails across his chest, his eyes watching the mischievous grin on your face grow as you trail your fingers down his chest, resting on his belt before the sound of a yelp and a clap breaks out, causing you to retract your hand and causing Carmen to let out a whine.

The rest of the crew and Sugar come tumbling into the room, hootting with cheers and laughter like they had been pressing an ear to the door the entire time, which they probably had. Sugar makes her way over, hugging you both, and pressing a kiss to your cheek before punching Carmen lightly.

“You didn’t think I knew? God what kind of sister do you take me for??” 

It’s all a blur of laughter and smiles and light shooting colours, Carmen keeps his eyes on you the entire time, and you don’t leave his side, holding onto him like he might fly away. And in all the commotion, in all the light and laughter and love Carmen sees Mikey. Sees him in flashes, the nape of his neck, the corner of his mouth pulling back in a smile and he swears, Carmen swears he sees him nod towards him.

You let it rip, bear, you did it, you did it. 

And Carmen did, and he looks down at you in his arms surrounded by people he loved and his heart for the first time feels full. Carmen had written himself off to a life of fulfilment through his work, and whilst that was purposeful and important to him, he always felt like a piece of his life was missing, a piece of his heart, it was taken by you just as he had taken yours. 

And now he can’t mask himself from his feelings, he can't watch you from afar anymore, he wants you beneath him, wants to bottle your laugh and drink in to cure him. He's broken and he doesn’t deserve you but god with the way you look up at him? It makes him question everything, makes him think he's enough, that there might be a chance he's more than the vile words he calls himself.

He want to get better for you, for the both of you, and its overwhelming, all these feelings he feels all of a sudden, it's like a switch has turned on and he can’t stop it, it washes over him, those memories from before, and you grip his arm with a squeeze, looking up as him before walking him out, guiding him with a hand until he follows you out into the alleyway.

“Sorry, it just was a whole lot at once, I haven’t even properly asked about you and now the entire kitchen knows you and” Carmen rushes out, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously

“You forget how well I know you bear?” Is all you say, and you can see the way he relaxes into himself, looking up at you with a nod. And it’s true, you know him completely and utterly, and it’s almost a relief, it almost makes Carmen cry because for the first time he doesn't feel like he needs to explain himself. Carmen feels like he has someone who knows him deep down, knows all his flaws, and problems and issues, and still wants him. 

The thought is so foreign and strange but he stomach bubbles with the elated glee of the start of something, something you both know, deep down, was meant to happen whether it was now or in 30 years. You would always, always find each other, how could you not? When it felt like half of you had disappeared without them?

Carmen can’t help but a press another kiss to your lips, snaking his arm so that it rested on your hip, squeezing a little before you break from him

“The food in there looks lovely, but considering what has just occurred, do you want to go somewhere more..” You start

“Intimate? Fucking yes. I don’t need Richie watching me and Sugar breathing down my neck. There is so much..” Carmen replies, eyes having a bit of a faraway look as he thinks back to all the times he had wished he could confide in you but couldn't.

“Let’s make up for lost time, shall we?” You grin, holding out a hand that Carmen eagerly grasps, before practically running into whichever car is closest. 

You and Carmen end up in a dimly lit jazz bar that sells signature shirley temples and tampalas that make your heart sing. You spend the entire night talking about everything, you both spill the entire contents of your guts to each other and you couldn't be happier, wiping each other's tears when the love got too much and your chest filled with gratitude at finding each other again.

You tell him you're only here for 6 months, and you leave the bar calling Mae to extend your lease. It doesn't take long for you both to slide into the familairy of your friendship again, spending every waking moment with each other, fulfilling every desire, checking off every firsts, exploring Chicago again with the one man who's been waiting for you for eternity. 

It would have been cute if you werent fucking like rabbits as well, you were addicted to each other, chasing orgasm after orgasm like it was a high. You should have been thrown in jail with the amount of times you had nearly been caught, and Carmen’s office was practically a health code violation.

But the truth was, Carmen finally had something to come home to in the late evenings and you had something to say goodbye to in the early mornings.

*

The early morning sun drags along the horizon, it cuts through the shapes and cuts of the intricate frost that had begun to develop over the window, showering the room in its dull yellow through the linen curtains of your shared bedroom.

It had snowed during the night, and the city council had closed the roads, advising as many people to stay indoors if possible, causing you and Carmen to finally have an excuse to stay indoors and pressed against each other the entire day.

The only sounds you can hear in the early cold July morning are the shutters of shop doors opening and the simmering wave of traffic that would soon begin to spill into the city streets below.

That and the strangled sound of Carmens moans as you slide your hand across the slick length of him, heavy in your palm.

He watches you carefully, eyelids heavy as you blow on the tip of him, causing him to wince in desire. Your motions are slobby and wet, and Carmen is still half asleep from your sleeping position not moments before.

“Please…”

You bite back a giggle, looking up at him from your knelt position between his legs. You’ve pulled him to the edge of the bed, and he grips the white sheets in his fists as he tries to restrain himself from coming undone by the way you smile up at him.

“You want me to suck you off him? You wanna feel good baby, you gotta tell me you wanna feel good cause I can't hold back any longer

“Fuck..please make me feel good, you know how to do it, please h-honey” Carmen replies before knocking his head back with a groan when you take the tip of him in your mouth.

You and Carmen weren't exactly experienced at first, you both had never truly held a relationship long enough to progress to that stage, but it had only taken a month before you knew how to have him stuttering thrusting up into you with need and it had taken him 3 weeks to know how to make you cum 9 times a day. What could you say? You had waited long enough.

You don’t waste time as you circle your tongue around the red tip, licking the precum clean from the slit, groaning around him at the sound of his throat letting out strangled moans. You want to take him in entirely, but he was so thick and long you couldn't possibly without getting used to him again.

Carmen loved giving, he could spend hours with your thighs around his shoulders, but there was something special with getting your broody chef to come undone, to be reduced to a puddle at every lick and kiss from you.

You push him deeper, circling your tongue so that it drags flat against his length as you pump the rest of him that you couldn’t yet reach.

“Holy-sh-fuck babygirl, easy, easy” Carmen groans out, and as you flicker your eyes up at him, the vision causes you to sneak a hand down between your thighs. 

Carmen looks down at you with furrowed brows, struggling to sit, grinding and jutting up into your mouth as his blonde hair lays across his forehead sweaty. His cheeks are a rosy crimson, and his tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth biting down when you catch his blown out almost-black eyes.

You ignore his protests, pushing him further down until you feel him in your throat, constricting the space until it has him groaning out in pleasure. Carmen can’t help thrusting up into your throat, quickly apologising before you shake your head, reaching for his hand to grip your hair, begging him to use you however he wan’t. It’s too much for Carm, he feels like your puffed out cheeks, the tears eager to drip down your cheeks, the rut of your hips trying to find any friction causes the very tight bind to nearly snap in him.

“Fuck, don’t- not gonna last long” Carmen heaves out, gripping your hair until the veins in his arms and neck begin to juttt out.

You continue bopping your head down onto him, gathering the spit and cum and hollowing out your cheeks before taking him out and then in again. Carmen can’t take his eyes off of you, his chest heaving up and down as he watches you entranced.

“You don’t want to cum huh? Am I not making you feel good? Fuck my throat Carm, show me how you want it and i’ll show you how I do” You groan out, looking up at him from under your lashes and it causes Carmen to groan out, before gripping your jaw in his hand, and dragging your tongue back down his length.

Carmen is careful with how he fucks into you, but it’s reverent and heady and full of need, and he finds himself gripping your hair, watching you bop down on his cock until it bumps against your throat, and he feels that tight warmth that surround his sensitive tip.

He’s a mess, a jumble of incoherent swears and half moans of your name as the slick heaviness against your tongue shealths up and down, the mess of cum and saliva dripping from between your lips. 

“S-so fucking, so good, all mine babygirl, you’re all fucking mine” Carmen replies with a growl, as hes thrusts into you grow sloppy, and you press your nails into his thigh, breathing through your nose as Carmen loses himself in the warmth and feel of you, chasing his release without a break.

The tight band deep in him snaps when you constrict around him, and catch his heavy gaze, he screams out your name, jutting up into your throat, slick shooting down as he holds you head against him, and you milk him dry eagerly, taking every last drop he gives you.

You swirl your tongue around him, gently taking him out of your mouth as he winces at the over stimulation, you look up at him, opening your mouth and poking your tongue out, and you don’t miss the low fuck he whispers at the image of you swallowing every last bit of his mess.

You aren’t able to get up yourself before Carmen is dragging you up to him, wiping and kissing away every tear before swallowing you with a heated kiss. Carmen can taste himself on your tongue, manoeuvring your bodies so that he lay against the headboard, with you grinding up against his lap.

“Need to feel you fill me up Carm, I need it so bad” You groan out between your heated kiss, and Carmen grips you against him, his cock hardening again at your words, he always wanted to please you, it was his dying quest, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you like it was nothing.

You line yourself up with him, before sinking onto his length, the both of you breaking apart from your heated kiss to suck in a breath, Carmen leans into the croon of your neck, biting the skin there lightly as the feel of you tight around him gets too much.

You have to grip him, pressing half moons into the contorting muscle of his shoulders and back as you get used to him, before sinking further down with a groan. You felt impossibly tight, walls velvet and soft like caramel as they glided up against him with its slickness.

“You sure you can take it all? Hm darling?” Carmen whispers as he leans over in your ear, so that you slide further down his length, and it glides across a sensitive spot in this new position that causes you to rock your head back with a groan.

“Oh no baby, no no no, eyes on me hm?” Carmen reprimands you, sliding a hand so that he can see the dazed look in your eyes.

“We have the entire day, locked in this house from the snow, and I’m going to fuck you stupid doll” Carmen replies with a grin, before easing out of you and thrusting back into you hard, causing stars to appear in your vision, the white hot pleasure of the beginnings of your orgasm gripping you.

[enha-cafe]

loser perv hee who gets hard at just a whiff of your clean hair as you walk past him, he knows when you change shampoos (but shea scent is his fav 🤭)

losers are always my weakness (hard hours)

okay but hear me out loser perv bestie! heeseung who always lingers when he hugs you. trying to get a whiff of your hair. complimenting you on how good you smell whenever you’re near. thinking he’s such a sweetheart when he gives you compliments.

not knowing that he buys the same shampoo you use just so he can jerk off with it. taking long showers late at night as he fists his cock while letting the water hit him. the air being filled with the smell of your shampoo. moans of your name falling from his lips. how badly he wishes he was pounding into you right now while burying his nose in your hair. never able to get enough of your scent.

[princessbiteme0o0]

You’re My Home. (Jschlatt x Reader)

WARNINGS: Fluff, age regression (It’s not a Daddy kink, there’s a difference), depression, sweet Schlatt, protective Schlatt

Summary: I honestly don’t know. I’m just miserable and want to write out my pain lmao (I wish this was real lmaoooo)

—🌸—🌸—

Schlatt sat at his office computer, talking to Ted as they filmed the podcast. It had been a long week for both him and his girlfriend, who currently was asleep in one of the other rooms on the couch.

“This has been a crazy week, Ted. I’m so fuckin’ tired.” Schlatt complained, running a hand over his face.

“Oh yeah? And how’s (Y/N)? Shea told me that she’s been texting her complaining about her job.” Ted replied with a raise of his brow.

“Don’t even get me started.” Schlatt grumbled with a scowl. “She’s beyond exhausted and keeps pushing herself so hard that she was bordering on a hospital visit this week for exhaustion.”

“Well shit dude. Tell her to quit.” Schlatt waved his hand in frustration at Ted’s words.

“I’ve tried, but she’s so damn stubborn that she won’t. Even tried telling her I’d take care of her and-“ Schlatt is cut off by the door to his office creaking open. He turned towards the door, ready to yell at one of his employees for opening the door, but his eyes softened when he saw her standing in the doorway, wearing one of his extra large shirts on her little figure. Her hair was messy and she looked exhausted.

“Daddy?” She mumbles out, rubbing her eyes. Tears of frustration were in her eyes as she stared at him.

“You know I’m recording, Pumpkin.” He sighs out softly, a small frown crossing his lips when he sees the tears in her eyes.

“Jay…” She whimpers out and Schlatt leans back, patting his thigh. With a tired smile on her lips, she padded over to him and sat on his thigh, burying her face in his neck. “Love you…” She mumbles, giving a small wave to Ted through the camera. She heard Ted chuckle softly and let out a teasing ‘aww’ and she rolled her eyes, hiding her pink cheeks in Schlatt’s neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, hands gently rubbing her back as he continued the podcast with Ted like it was nothing. She was quick to fall asleep there on his lap, the sound of his voice filling her smaller body with warmth and making her feel safe.

Once they were done recording the podcast, Schlatt carefully carried her to the couch and laid down with her curled up on his chest. He knew that she had really been struggling at her job, he knew that she was stressed. It was obvious how depressed she was by how much more often she was slipping into her regressive state. The more it happened, the more he felt the need to protect her and her innocence. He loved her for everything about her, but the main thing that pulled him in was the purity of her. Her big heart and loving smile, the way she looked at everyone like they had the best intentions.

He was pulled from his own thoughts when he felt her stir on top of him. “Daddy?” She whispers out, trying to curl herself further on top of him and his arms gripped her just a bit tighter as if to protect her.

“Hi there, Toots.” He teased softly and when she giggled one of her small, warm giggles, he felt his chest swell with love for her.

“Missed you.” She mumbles, placing a kiss on his chest.

“I was only recording for an hour, Honey bun.” He chuckles, kissing the top of her head.

“I know, but you’re my home. I feel like I might die without you.” She speaks softly, readjusting herself to peer up at him through sad eyes.

“(Y/N)…” He whispers out, his eyes brimming with tears. She constantly showered him with such love and passion that he honestly questioned if he deserved it, but she was constantly quick to assure him that he did.

“I know… You don’t like all the lovey dovey stuffs, but I mean it.” She smiles softly, kissing his chin gently.

“I know you do, Sweetie… I love you so much.” He replied with a shaky smile.

“You couldn’t imagine just how much I love you.”

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Crying in tears at the thought Hobie yelling me I have good hair or he likes my hair

Cause I've never been told that at all ever in my life.

[Me screaming Hobie Brown and hair representation again]

I have really coarse, thick 4C hair. It's hard to the touch, and very coily, and always tangled. Even getting an afro takes hours of picking it out and detangle it which is PAINFUL

And like, I just accepted that I don't have 'hair' like everyone else. I can't style it or throw it up or wear it down or anything my hair is just THERE

Even since I was in middle school I just felt like I had 'bad hair' and in high school I stopped getting perms then shaved it off a year after that. And have never grown it out after unless it was to get braids or extensions installed.

No one has every told me they like my natural hair or that it looks nice like in it's peasy everyday form. I only get compliments if I've done literal hours of painful work

But I'm getting locs REALLY soon because of Hobie and like..

Just imagining him taking me he likes my hair and that I have good hair that I can do so much with

And him giving me loc tips 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭

I need that SO BAD

Hobie picking his fingers through my hard-ass hair and telling me how nice it's gonna loc up and how punk my dreads are gonna loc up

IMMA CRY IMMA REALLY CRY

I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIS HAIR AND I LOVE MY HAIR TOO BECAUSE OF HIM AHHHHHHU

Never in my life have a seen a character with my hair texture - like hair that straight up DOESN'T MOVE. AT ALL.

Even Miles is like a solid 4a-4b

But Hobies hair is big and natural and he doesn't give a fuck about parting it or detangling it or doing hot oil treatments and endless Shea Moisture products that empty his wallet or laying his edges or buying pink cream and AHHHHHHHHHH

He just lets it grow and locs it up and keeps it clean and LET'S IT BE. Like EVERYONE ELSE ON EARTH FUCK

THAT'S ALL I EVER FUCKING WANTED IN LIFE MY GOOOOODDDDDDD

All I want is him to tell me that he finds my hair beatiful and healthly and that my hair is good and actually have like,,, things he likes about it. Hobie telling me how impressive my coil pattern is or IDK SOMETHING.

And not even in a sympathetic comforting way but like in a genuine casual way that he really means cause I've never had that ever

Never have I ever had someone tell me I have good hair genes and mean it and I NEED THAT FROM HOBIE BROWN!!!!

ONLY HE CAN'T TOUCH MY HAIR!!!!!!!!!

I- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH

I can't go on. I have finally succumb to my Hobie brainrot, bring the hearse around I cannot be saved

[riptideripley]

Roman’s Cousin.

gif creds: @bloodycowboyclub

summary:You’re Roman Reign’s right hand woman,helping him with everything in his life. But his cousin,Jey,caught your attention a little too much..

jey uso x black reader

wordcount:1,416

“Well well well..look who’s all alone here” you heard a familiar voice behind you,turning around to see Jey. You two had a few on screen moments were you almost got caught up but masked it. You were Roman’s right hand woman and with the bloodline falling apart,you couldn’t betray him. You were also a wrestler and have won so many matches,even beating Rhea Ripley. “Hi Jey..nice to see you I guess” you spoke with a smug smile on your face,knowing you just wanted him to knock the Mario coins out of you right then and there. “Mm guess I can say the same ma,where’s your ‘tribal chief’” he responded using quotations around the words tribal chief. “He’s busy handling your brother with Paul right now. Though it’s none of your business on what” “mm so we can take things back to my dressing room then?” he said as he kept looking at your glossy lips,wanting to kiss you right there.

“fuck Jey..” you whimpered out as he continued to kiss your sensitive spots,with his hand up your skirt rubbing your clit. “right here baby?” “yes please fuck” you said as your eyes rolled back,orgasm approaching very quickly. There was a knock on the door causing you both to freeze up instantly. “Yo uce! Cmon man we gotta go in 10 minutes” Jimmy spoke through the door,walking away as you both looked at each other hearing his foot steps get farther away. Jey continued his movements,pulling you into a deep sloppy kiss to prevent you from being loud. “oh my god-“ you words were cut short from your orgasm hitting you hard. It took everything in you not to let out a loud ass moan,panting trying to catch your breath. “Better get going before Roman looks for you” he said with a wink,fixing your clothes and opening his dressing room door walking out. You quickly followed behind him trying not to get caught and immediately went to Roman’s dressing room.

“(your name)! Where the hell have you been?” “I apologize my tribal chief,I was in the bathroom” you said in a calm tone,somehow convincing him. “Well how’d things go with Jimmy?” “Just fine I hope. Now come help me get my stuff to the car” you nodded at his words and began grabbing his belongings,taking them to the black car in the garage waiting for him. Once all his stuff was in the car and he left,you checked your phone seeing a text from Jey.

Jey<3 - “hey mama,you still coming by tonight”

You - “Yea give me an hour”

Once you responded you put your phone away and got in your car,driving to the hotel. You two got lucky enough to be put on the same floor so you just went straight to your room to shower and change. Once out of the shower you put on shea butter and some baby oil,along with the strawberry scented perfume he got you a while back since it’s his favorite. You slipped on a matching red lace bra and panty set,throwing on a crop top and shorts. You texted him letting him know you’ll be by soon,fixing your bun and edges before heading out the door. You walked three doors down and knocked,waiting for him to open it.

When he opened the door,he was standing there with nothing but a pair of psds on. You looked him up and down mentally cursing when you noticed his print. You two had sex before but it seemed like every time it got bigger. “You just gon stare at me?” he asked making you snap out of your thoughts,”No just let me in” you brushed past him letting yourself in. You sat on the end of the bed,looking up at him as he hovered over you. “Clothes off ma you know how this go” he said as leaned down to kiss your neck while playing with the hem of your shorts. You whined and was able to get him to move away from your neck,allowing you to remove your shirt and soon yours shorts. He stared at you in awe at the lace garments you chose to wear,since you never wore them around him. He smiled and unclipped your bra,taking your right breast in his mouth. You threw your head back,letting out soft moans at you played with his hair gently. He stood up and turned your body around putting you on all fours. You felt him rip your underwear off and before you could speak you felt his tongue going to work on your clit. “O-oh my god..” you moaned out gripping his hair as he continued to eat you out,this time using his fingers. “You always taste so good for me mama” his words making you shy and more wet than you already were.

You whined when he pulled himself away,but your whines were cut short when he pulled his boxers down and slid inside of you with ease. Your back automatically arched and you shoved your face into a pillow,moaning. "Aht aht pretty girl lift your head up." he said as he pulled your hair making you lift your head. "Fuck right there!" you yelped out,not being able to control yourself or your moans at this point. He laughed at this,running his hand down your back as he continued his movements getting deeper knowing you couldn't handle all 10. You were a stuttering mess,with each thrust you felt him in your stomach not being able to handle it all. "Cmon princess whose pussy is this hm" "Y-yours! SHIT-" you felt his finger massaging your clit. You were on cloud nine right now,eyes rolling deep into your skull letting out nothing but moans and whimpers. He loved seeing you all fucked out,it made him pleased with himself. You felt a swift smack at your ass,making your shoot your eyes open,"Eyes open for me baby." he demanded and you obeyed. He held your head up by wrapping his hand around your throat,keeping eye contact with you. "Please Please daddy I can't-" "Yes you can baby,I know you can. So just hold it for me I'm almost there" he said with a slight moan towards the end. You've never heard him moan before but god did you love it.

You were fighting back tears at this point from overstimulation,but you loved it and he knew it. “Fuck- cmon baby cum on this dick for daddy” he whispered breathily in your ear. Hearing his voice in your ear like that in the state you were in was just enough for you. You let out a scream which was half way cut off with a sloppy kiss,soon he pulled away making you whine and lay on the bed. “shit..yo you on birth control?” he asked realizing he didn’t pull out this time,which made you wanna slap the shit out of him but you were too tired to do so. “Yea I’m on it don’t worry..” you told him making him sigh in relief,as he went in the bathroom and came back with a warm towel wiping your body down which made you whine and jolt your body a bit. You turned over on your back and smiled when you saw him hovering over you leaving kisses down your body and tickling you which made you laugh. “Ok okkk I have to get back to my room Jey” “Fine ma,but call me in the morning ight?” “Ok I promise” you spoke getting up slipping your clothes back on. “Oh and wear lace more often baby,looks good on you” he said smacking your ass as he put his underwear back on along with some shorts,walking you to the door. You smiled and gave him a quick kiss before walking out the door and back to your hotel room. You decided to shower in the morning due to your tiredness.

_the next day_

You walked into Roman’s dressing room seeing The Usos,Solo,and Paul there which confused you but you could tell Roman was upset about something. You then took notice to Jey’s face of nervousness and realized. ‘Shit he found out-‘ your thoughts were cut short with Roman’s words. “My cousin huh?”

[erwinsvow]

shea the onlyfans drabble is haunting me do you care to elaborate

:-) maybe so. i think it needs a fic actually which may or may not be written this week. but just for anyone wondering, it takes jack maybe two hours to watch every thing you've ever posted, takes him another hour to process how relieved he is that you've never posted a video with another person, and he makes it a whole thirty minutes before he cums the hardest he has in as long as he can remember. makes it another fifteen before he does it again. and when he goes back to work and sees you again, he actually has to avoid eye contact because that's the one thing missing from those videos. your pretty eyes, your pretty face. and at work he gets that, and fuck, he's hard again. and you are very sweet and very polite at work, so sweet and so polite that you don't say anything about his hard-on and aggressiveness. it doesn't really take that long for you to put two and two together. and also, you laugh a little because he's such an old man. his username is aj122276. also known as his birthday, which you know since you were the one who picked out the card last year and made sure nothing was christmas-related.

[arcticaomega]

Tips for smelling like Vanilla and/or Strawberries all day? I have some lotion and body mist from Bath and Body works but I feel like it fades rly fast :(

I LOVE THIS QUESTION!!! EEEHHH!! Okay so! I’m a VANILLA GIRL and I used to be strawberry too!!

What you want to do is make sure your body wash and other products all match. FOR EXAMPLE I use dove vanilla and shea bar and liquid soap, then I exfoliate with a vanilla sugar scrub (homemade) and then eos vanilla shave cream and then fresh out of the shower I put on eos vanilla cashmere lotion and a dove vanilla and shea deodorant.

Now you don’t have to go as hard as me BUT!!! I can definitely help!!

DO YOUR HAIR FIRST!! You don’t want those oils and stuff going down your back after you just cleaned it and smell nice!

First things first to smell like vanilla and strawberries all day it starts in the shower! Get a bar soap that smells like vanilla, strawberry, or unscented. The bar soap is what actually cleans you! (Literally any dove bar soap will do but this smells HEAVENLY)

Next a vanilla strawberry shower gel! This would be your Walmart bodycology stuff! (This line is FANTASTIC for this!) the gel soap will clean you but is mostly to help deposit that scent!

Now you exfoliate! Sugar scrub, exfoliation glove, or African net sponge. (I use a net sponge bc they make it easier to SCRUB and get my back!) you don’t have to use a sugar scrub by any means if you don’t need one or don’t want one.

You can also make one by mixing 1 & 1/2 cup sugar, 1 cup coconut oil (or any oil of your choice), and a body gel (I think I used a 1/2 cup for that too), I put vanilla extract (also homemade) and a vanilla essential oil (one full dropper or about 10-15 drops). I keep mine in the fridge and it works wonders for my skin.

Now would be the time to shave if you do!! It’s not necessary but I use eos 24 hour moisturizer shave cream in the vanilla bliss scent. Remember to always shave upwards and clean your razor after every few strokes.

At this point get out and don’t dry all the way off!! Apply a nice lotion (I use eos 24 hour vanilla cashmere but for you I’d recommend the body cology one from earlier or bath and body works strawberry pound cake!) then after this BABY OIL (or yk body oil that is strawberry or vanilla scented, the shea butter ones, any of those really) but OIL!! It keeps the lotions moisturize in and locks it away! Moisturized skin holds smell better!!

Now! Find a nice vanilla and strawberry perfume! PREFERABLY an eau de parfum but an eau de toilette is fine too!

This one is sooo goooddd my friend in highschool wore it everyday and OUGH so good and it lasted ACTUAL DAYS!

Go to the base notes and find vanilla, this is the dry down smell it’ll stay this way ALL DAY, middle notes are gonna stay for a long time too. This is where you’ll find vanilla or strawberry. Pick your favorite smell (fresh cream by philosophy would go SO WELL with the bodycology smells from earlier)

Once you have your perfume you want to put a THIN LAYER of Vaseline on your pulse points (inner elbow, wrists, behind the knee, ankles, and behind your ears and on the sides of your neck. Basically where you can see veins tbh) then spray your perfume on those points.

The body mist (bodycology spray, or your bbw scents) goes literally everywhere else! Chest, hair (spray your brush before brushing your hair), legs, shoulders etc etc. don’t be afraid of this one bc it’s made to dry down subtle (you grow nose blind to it but everyone else knows it’s there and it makes your scent more complex)

That’s kind of it! Other than increasing water intake (makes your sweat smell better, makes your body more hydrated, there’s so many benefits.) and like oral hygiene and that stuff that’s really it! I hope this helped!!

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

💙💜💖 Bi Books Released in November 2024

💖💜💙 Hey there, beloved bookish bats, and happy December! I know it's a day late, but here are a few bisexual books released in November that would make fabulous additions to your never-ending TBR! Happy reading!

💙 I apologize for any discrepancies. Publishing days are subject to change.

💖 Rani Choudhury Must Die - Adiba Jaigirdar 💜 Our Deadly Designs - Kalyn Josephson 💙 Merry in Moose Falls - Emily Silver

💖 I Am the Dark That Answers When You Call - Jamison Shea 💜 Afterglow - Emily Antoinette 💙 A Wild and Ruined Song - Ashley Shuttleworth

💖 Of Hoarfrost and Blood - Scarlet Tempest 💜 Time and Tide - J.M. Frey 💙 Back in the Rain - Elen Chase

💖 Witch Queen of Redwinter - Ed McDonald 💜 The Last Hour Between Worlds - Melissa Caruso 💙 The Twice-Sold Soul - Katie Hallahan

💖 Hearts and Stars - Phoenix Kathryn 💜 Leap - Simina Popescu 💙 The Anonymous Letters of C Forestier - Felicia Davin

💖 Just Like Christmas - Annabel den Dekker 💜 A Hard Fit - Jennifer Moffatt 💙 Make Room for Love - Darcy Liao

[prettypup188]

Cozy Day ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

(Tired/soft Rafe x black pregnant soft reader)

(Cw: a bit of cursing,Rafe annoyed by being called on his day off. Just a cute fluff since today was a bit of good cool weather today,first person for reader,MOODBOARD AT THE BOTTOM >:3)

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

I laid in bed,listening to the rain hit against the window,she knew Rafe had taken off today since i wasn’t feeling good last night,my hot flashes were bad but now i was freezing. I sat up in my bed,getting up as my breath hitched heading to the restroom. While in the bathroom I heard the bedroom door creak, “Honey?”, a few steps came closer to the door, “How are you feeling?”, Rafe said,softly “I’m okay, sweetie.”, I finished and walked in the bedroom, soon Rafe kissed my cheek wrapping a arm around my waist, “How’d you sleep?”, he guided me back to the bed,of course since I wasn’t feeling well he didn’t want me going up and down the stairs,I sat down as he stood in front of me with a smile.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。

“I slept fine,you?”, “Fine,are you hungry?”, I giggled, “I always am.”, he nodded and headed out of the room,not long later he came back with two plates, he made homemade breakfast and sat next to me. We sat on the bed watching tv while we ate but Rafe got a call,he grumbled answering it, “What.”,he hissed,I could hear a bit of mumbling but cut off by Rafe, “Ask John, he knows how to take care of it,now fucking leave me alone.”, he hung up and huffed, “Sorry,honey bunny.”, I smiled as he settled back next to me but that’s when a crackling of thunder sounded. I jumped a bit surprised,I loved rain but not the sounds that came with it. Rafe grabbed me and held me closer, “You know,you never showed me those baby cribs you wanted.”, my face lit up going over to my bed side drawer pulling out a stack of magazines,flipping through the pages Rafe got up and turned on some jazz as he sat back down,my stomach growled again.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。

He took it as a cue to get me a snack,coming back with a yogurt bowl with chocolate covered strawberries and a side of popcorn,with a glass of juice. I showed him crib after crib along with quizzes I took about what type of colors would look best for the baby room. Rafe listened as he rubbed my shoulders occasionally snagging a popcorn or strawberry. I giggled and smiled as he kissed my cheeks, “We’ll have it all handled,doll I promise.” He said softly as he laid me back to lay on his chest,placing a hang over my stomach,he grabbed the shea coco butter rubbing it over my stomach,while we watched tv and cuddled. A few hours later I woke up,still laying on Rafe’s chest he was quietly reading a baby book, “Rafey.”, I said quietly sitting up and groaning,it was still raining but not as hard, “You ready for dinner hun? Carla(a nice maid) made you some soup.”, I nodded, Rafe reluctantly helped me down the stairs since I wanted to see more than just the interior of our bedroom,he sat me on the couch and got me comfortable as he made me a bowl,he came back with a chicken soup including carrots,pasta,chicken bits and potato with a side of cheesy bread. I ate happily,reading my book while Rafe rubbed my feet and watched tv.

[solarpire]

Gonna just keep throwing characters into your enclosure, feel free to take or leave whichever you like. Ekko smell?

You'll never guess what I'm watching right now lol

Ekko I think is definitely not the type to really go for smells. Most he'd probably do himself is hair product that smells nice, and maaaybe a gentle cologne he saves for special occasions that he basically never uses (feels a little too guilty to spend time on things like nice perfumes, he puts WAY too much pressure on himself). I definitely dont think he'd smell bad though. Hes definitely the type to lose track of time and spend like 10 too many hours working on projects every once in a while, but he keeps pretty clean. My guess is his overall smell is fairly mellow, but its hints of rosemary and shea butter, some kind of gear lubricant, and the tree the firelights are based in, and I could maaaaybe see some kind of gentle musk (more incense than animalic, amber notes)

My femme and I are doing a little research on their tree too to narrow it down a little, and it looks like a ficus! We also found out, fun fact, ficuses are often used with the intent of air purification! But based on that, I think I'm going to go with a fig smell.

For this one I think I'm going to do three layers (I really wanted that wd40 smell and it is RIDICULOUS how hard it is to find shea perfumes, at least on fragrantica)

Perfume one is Une Figue Obvious (havent owned this one, referenced notes and reviews)

Perfume two is Honeycomb Bath & Body Works (havent owned this one, referenced notes and reviews)

And perfume three is Smells Like WD-40 MSCHF (havent owned this one, referenced notes and reviews)

[eva-knits12]

CE characters discovering you have depression and anxiety

Trigger warning: depression and anxiety. If you feel the need to commit suicide, contact 988 (previously 1-877-273-8255, this will work for some time), or call 911 immediately! Trust me, there is help out there, and there is no shame in asking for help. Things might seem hopeless now, and you feel helpless, and devoid of all energy and life, and you feel like everything hurts, everyone has abandoned you, everyone has turned on you, etc., please know that you are not alone. As I've explained, there is help out there, and there's no shame in asking for help.

Colin Shea:

Colin sees you crying, curled up in a ball.

"I just can't do this...I just can't do this..."

Colin puts his arms around you, and holds you, and rocks you.

Colin tells you everything will be okay, and that you'll get through this.

Colin serenades you with his own songs, and some of his favorites.

Later, he creates a playlist for you.

A few days later, you have an anxiety attack.

Colin tries to help, but he doesn't know how.

He encourages you to see a therapist.

Your doctor and your therapist put you on an antidepressant.

You start seeing your therapist regularly, and take your medicine every day.

You slowly start becoming the old you.

Colin and you spend time together, as you've both been neglecting things lately.

Colin also sees a therapist in order to help you with your depression.

Colin has helped you get better.

Ransom Drysdale:

Ransom has never dealt with this before.

He sees you upset, crying, and shaking.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

You explain that you lost your job, and you're not sure if you can go on anymore.

Ransom doesn't know what to do here.

He looks like a lost puppy.

He tries to help you.

He calls 911 and gets you to the hospital.

You're put in psychiatric care.

Ransom calls you every day, and comes on visiting day during visiting hours.

He brings you a stuffed teddy bear.

He even brings you some clothes, making sure that none of them have strings, and he even brings you a pair of slippers, making sure that they don't have strings.

(Trust me, when you're undergoing a psych eval., the people in the psych ward aren't screwing around with this! No strings, no keys, no razors. I wasn't even allowed to have my knitting because the knitting needles were considered weapons.)

You start to get better, because you're not only getting help, talking, and taking an antidepressant and antianxiety meds,

Ransom helps find you one of the best therapists in the area.

You start getting better because you're finally opening up about what you've been through.

Ransom holds you every night and every morning.

He can't let you go, and he knows that you're still fragile right now.

"You're getting so much better and so much stronger every day."

"I'm proud of you."

Ransom starts seeing a therapist, too as a way to help you and to talk about his past, and as a way to help deal with his crazy family.

Andy Barber:

Andy sees that you're breaking down, and crying.

"Honey, baby, what's wrong?"

You cry some more.

Andy wraps his arms around you, and you just keep sobbing.

Two of your co-workers are not only bullying you at work, they are making it difficult for you to even function.

You've had an anxiety attack already.

You have to escape somewhere else, close the door, and cry every day.

You need to release this.

Andy's lawyer training is kicking in.

He drops you off the next day, and he talks with your boss.

You have everything documented.

Andy threatens to sue for creating a hostile work environment if your boss doesn't get rid of these two.

Later that day, those two are gone.

You're still upset.

It's hard for you to get up in the morning, even on the best of days.

Andy notices, and encourages you to get help.

You see your docs, and he starts you on an antidepressant.

You start seeing a therapist.

You are slowly getting better.

Andy treats you to a date night, and it's the best.

You and Andy start to spend more time together.

A few weeks later, you give your two weeks notice.

You decide to put your mental health first.

Steve Rogers:

Steve sees that you haven't been yourself lately.

The days are taking a toll on you.

You are crying one morning, and Steve hears you.

"Doll, what's wrong?"

You explain that you feel like everything is falling apart.

You feel like you can't do anything right lately.

Tony's new receptionist is not only lazy, she's bullying you.

You have an anxiety attack.

Steve encourages you to get help.

You start seeing the therapist.

Tony fires his receptionist and hires a new one.

You and the new one get along.

Steve and you go for a walk, go for a run, or go to the gym every day.

You also take your antidepressants and your antianxiety meds.

Steve is proud of you.

He sees that the old you is slowly coming back.

He sees that you're putting in the work.

Steve sees that you are more like yourself.

Steve takes you on a nice, weekend getaway.

You come back, and you've been glowing even more.