#they might be tiny but they take lits of room in my heart

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

... aaaand you chose to remind me of the scene that haunts me whenever I think of BBC Sherlock, well done. :,)

quick little drawing of a tiny Sherlock and an even tinier John (sorry, John)

[sushiyuzu]

haiiii!! love ur sylus fics omg but i would love to see mc walking in on sylus playing with his daughter thats like 3 and pretending with her, obvs u dont have to do so if u dun wanna just ignore ok bye bye

daddy’s girl

warning: fluff — you walk in on soft!sylus playing pretend with your daughter 🥰

note: so so so happy to hear that you love my sylus fics! and thank you so much for the adorable request! ask and you shall receive ✨️

- second acc: @blushpawss

you were in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes from lunch, when you realized it had been quiet for a while—too quiet. usually, your little girl was a bundle of energy, running around and chattering nonstop. you had expected to hear her laughter or the sound of toys being moved around, but the house was oddly silent. a small smile tugged at your lips. she was probably up to something.

“sylus?” you called out softly, drying your hands on a towel. you remembered that sylus had taken her to the living room to play while you cleaned up. it wasn’t unusual for him to entertain her while you got things done, but the quietness made you a little curious.

you walked toward the living room, ready to call out again, but you stopped when you heard the sweetest sound—a tiny burst of giggles followed by sylus’s deep, playful voice. you couldn’t help but peek around the corner, wanting to see what they were up to.

and then there they were.

the sight made your heart melt instantly. sylus, who always seemed so strong and serious to everyone else, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a bright pink tiara sitting slightly crooked on his head. a sparkly purple cape draped over his broad shoulders. he had even put on a pair of glittery princess slippers that barely fit his feet. his eyes, usually so intense, were soft and full of joy.

your daughter stood on the couch, holding a toy wand high in the air, her little face filled with excitement. “daddy! there’s a dragon coming!” she said dramatically, pointing the wand toward some invisible enemy.

sylus put on a shocked expression, gasping in surprise. “a dragon? oh no!” he said, putting his hands on his cheeks as if he was truly scared. “what are we going to do, princess?”

“i’ll protect you, daddy!” she declared, her tiny voice full of determination. she waved the wand again, trying to look as brave as possible.

sylus’s face lit up with a proud smile. “you’re the bravest princess ever!” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “i know you’ll save us!”

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, staying hidden in the doorway as you watched. it was hard to believe that this was the same man who was always so serious around others, always in control. but here, with your daughter, he was completely different. he was playful, gentle, and so full of love.

“take that, dragon!” your daughter yelled suddenly, swinging her wand through the air. sylus played along, flinching and pretending to dodge her imaginary attacks.

“oh no, you’re too strong!” he said, holding his hands up as if surrendering to her. “i can’t fight back! you’ve got me!”

“i did it!” she squealed, laughing as she jumped off the couch into his waiting arms. “i saved you, daddy! the dragon is gone!”

sylus caught her easily, spinning her around in a circle until her giggles filled the entire room. “you did it!” he said, his voice full of pride, “you saved the day, princess! you are the bravest and strongest princess in the whole kingdom!”

your daughter’s smile was so big it looked like it might burst off her face. she wrapped her arms around sylus’s neck, hugging him tightly as he held her close. you watched them, feeling warmth spread through your chest. you loved seeing them like this—seeing sylus, who was always so serious, completely wrapped around your little girl’s finger.

feeling the joy and love in the room, you decided it was time to join in. you stepped fully into the living room with a teasing smile on your face. “what’s going on here?” you asked playfully, raising an eyebrow at the sight of sylus in his sparkly cape and tiara.

your daughter gasped and wriggled out of sylus’s arms, running over to you as fast as her little legs could carry her. “mommy! mommy!” she said excitedly, grabbing your hand. “i beat the dragon! daddy was the dragon, and i saved the kingdom!”

you couldn’t help but smile as you looked at your daughter. her face was such a perfect mix of both you and sylus, a blend that still amazed you every time you looked at her. she had your dark brown hair, but there were faint silver streaks running through it—the same shade as sylus’s hair. it was like she had inherited just a touch of his unique coloring, enough to make her look like both of you in the most beautiful and unique way.

her sharp red eyes, just like her daddy’s, sparkled with joy as she played. the rest of her face—her small nose, the shape of her lips—was all you. it was like seeing a little version of yourself, but with sylus’s intensity and his striking gaze. sometimes, when she looked up at you with those bright red eyes, it took your breath away. she was a perfect blend of both her parents, and it filled you with a sense of pride and love you could barely put into words.

you laughed softly, kneeling down to her level and brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “you’re so brave, sweetheart,” you said, giving her a big hug, “and you look like the most beautiful princess in the world.”

“she really is,” sylus said, his voice tender as he watched the two of you. he stood up, still wearing the silly tiara, and walked over to you with a grin on his face. he looked so different from his usual self—so relaxed, so happy. you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him, reaching up to adjust the tiara that was falling off his head.

“i have to say,” you teased, “this is quite the look for you, sylus. pink really suits you.”

he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “anything for my princesses,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

your daughter, feeling left out, tugged on sylus’s cape. “daddy! we have to have a royal feast! it’s what princesses do after they beat the dragon!”

sylus nodded seriously, crouching down to her level. “you’re absolutely right, princess,” he said, giving her a conspiratorial smile. “and what should our royal feast be?”

“cookies!” she said without hesitation, her eyes lighting up.

“cookies it is,” sylus said, scooping her up and carrying her toward the kitchen. “come on, my brave princess, let’s bake some cookies together.”

you followed them, laughing softly as you watched your husband—a man who had once been so distant and serious—completely melt under the adoring gaze of your little girl. it was moments like these that made you realize just how much he had changed, how much he had opened his heart to you and your daughter.

and you knew that no matter what, your family would always be full of love, laughter, and moments like this—moments where dragons were defeated, princesses saved the day, and even the most serious of men wore pink tiaras just to make his daughter smile.

as you watched sylus whisk her off to the kitchen for their “royal feast”, a memory surfaced in your mind—a tiny flashback to when you were pregnant. it had been a tough pregnancy at times, but sylus had been there every step of the way, taking care of you with a tenderness that had completely shattered his tough exterior.

you remembered the nights when he would stay awake, gently rubbing your swollen feet or running his fingers through your hair as you lay in bed, struggling to get comfortable. “you need to rest,” he would say, his voice soft but firm, as he adjusted your pillows for the hundredth time. you could still feel the warmth of his touch, the way his strong hands had been so gentle with you, always making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

and then, the day of the delivery—the most intense, overwhelming day of your life. you had been terrified, exhausted, and in so much pain, but sylus had been right there, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement the entire time. he had never left your side, his eyes full of love and determination, telling you over and over how strong you were, how amazing you were for bringing their child into the world. the way he looked at you then had made you feel like you could do anything.

you remembered how, after hours of labor, when your daughter’s first cries filled the room, tears had streamed down sylus’s face. he had kissed your forehead, his voice breaking as he said, “you did it, my love... you’re incredible.” it was the first time you had ever seen him cry, and it was a moment you would never ever forget.

after she was born, sylus had taken on the role of caretaker with a dedication that had surprised even you. he was always there, changing diapers in the middle of the night without a single complaint, carefully supporting you as you recovered, making sure you had everything you needed. he had even held your daughter for hours at a time so you could get some much-needed sleep, his strong arms cradling her tiny body like she was the most precious thing in the world.

you were pulled out of the memory as your daughter’s laughter echoed through the kitchen. you walked over to join them, and when you stepped in, you saw sylus kneeling on the floor, his hands cupping your daughter’s cheeks as he pretended to taste-test the imaginary cookies she was “baking”. his expression was soft and full of warmth, a look he only ever showed when he was with the two of you.

“come on, mommy! help us make cookies!” your daughter called out, waving her small arms at you, her dark hair catching the light and revealing the silvery strands she’d gotten from sylus.

“i’m coming, baby,” you said, unable to hold back the sweet smile that spread across your face. you sat down next to sylus, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “you okay, sweetie?” he asked softly, noticing the faraway look in your eyes.

you nodded, leaning into his touch. “just... remembering,” you said quietly, your voice full of emotion. “remembering everything you did for us.”

sylus’s eyes softened, and he gave you a small smile, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “i’d do it all over again,” he said simply, his voice full of sincerity. “for both of you.”

your daughter climbed into your lap, oblivious to the emotions between you and sylus, her eyes wide and happy. you kissed her forehead, feeling the familiar warmth of your family surrounding you. and you knew, without a doubt, that no matter what challenges came your way, you would always face them together.

because in that moment, with your daughter’s arms wrapped around you and sylus’s strong, comforting presence by your side, you knew that you had everything you’d ever need.

and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[loveshotzz]

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Melt With You

summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.

A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.

mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃

Steve was close. Too close.

His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close. 

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin. 

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his. 

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there. 

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck. 

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted. 

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession. 

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now. 

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet. 

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow. 

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?” 

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most. 

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow. 

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh. 

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight. 

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated. 

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black. 

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed. 

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground. 

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.” 

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon. 

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

What was going on here?

[shitsndgiggs]

hii 💝 how about lamine and reader babysitting his younger brother keyne?

A DAY WITH KEYNE - LAMINE YAMAL

Babysitting Keyne with Lamine

Lamine Yamal x fem! reader

︵‿୨��୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The afternoon sun was streaming through the windows of Lamine’s cozy living room, casting a warm and inviting glow. I was curled up on the floor, surrounded by toys and colorful chaos, and Lamine was beside me, both of us taking on the task of babysitting his adorable younger brother, Keyne.

Keyne was already a whirlwind of energy, zooming around the room with his toy cars and making enthusiastic vroom-vroom sounds.

I watched him with a smile, my heart melting at the sight of his tiny feet padding across the floor.

“Hey, Keyne,” I called softly, holding out a toy dinosaur. “Do you want to play with Mr. Dino?”

Keyne’s eyes lit up, and he bounded over with a squeal of delight. “Dino!” he chirped, grabbing the toy and hugging it tightly.

Lamine, crouched beside me, chuckled at the sight. “Looks like Mr. Dino is a hit.”

I laughed, glancing at Lamine. “He certainly is. But let’s see if we can find something else to entertain him.”

I picked up a small toy car and gently nudged it towards Lamine. “Race you?”

“Absolutely,” Lamine agreed, his eyes twinkling with playful challenge. “You’re on.”

We set up a little race across the carpet, and Keyne clapped excitedly, his giggles filling the room as he watched the competition unfold.

His laughter was contagious, and soon, Lamine and I were grinning from ear to ear as we raced toy cars, trying to outdo each other.

After a while, I decided it was time to bring in another member of our little playgroup. I called out for my long-haired dachshund, Daisy, who trotted into the room with her usual enthusiasm. She had been eagerly waiting for her turn to play.

“Daisy, come here!” I called, and she came bounding over, her tail wagging furiously.

Keyne’s eyes widened at the sight of Daisy. “Doggy!” he exclaimed, reaching out towards her with a big smile.

Lamine and I laughed as Daisy approached Keyne, her long ears flopping with every step. “Do you want to play with Daisy?” I asked, holding her gently so Keyne could pet her.

Keyne’s little hands were soon brushing over Daisy’s soft fur, and Daisy responded with happy little barks and playful licks. The sight of them interacting was heartwarming, and I felt a wave of happiness at how well Keyne and Daisy were getting along.

“Looks like Daisy’s a big hit, too,” Lamine said, watching the scene with a smile.

“Definitely,” I agreed, rubbing Daisy’s head. “She loves making new friends.”

We spent the next hour playing with Keyne, Daisy, and a collection of toys. Lamine was fully immersed in the fun, getting down on the floor to build block towers with Keyne, while I guided Daisy in gentle play with the little one.

“Watch out, Keyne!” Lamine warned playfully as he set up a new block tower. “Mr. Dino might knock it over!”

Keyne’s giggles filled the room as he carefully placed another block on the tower, clearly proud of his creation. Daisy sat beside us, her head resting on her paws as she watched the proceedings with a contented sigh.

After a while, it was time for a walk. We bundled up and headed outside, Daisy leading the way with her leash attached. Keyne, excited by the prospect of an outdoor adventure, clutched onto the leash with a grin.

“Let’s see how Keyne does with the leash,” Lamine said, handing it to him with a wink. “Careful, buddy. Daisy’s a little strong.”

Keyne grabbed the leash with both hands, his face a mix of concentration and joy. Daisy, sensing Keyne’s enthusiasm, trotted along beside him, her pace gentle to accommodate the little one holding her leash.

We strolled through the nearby park, Keyne’s laughter echoing as Daisy playfully tugged on the leash. Every so often, Keyne would let out an excited squeal as Daisy stopped to sniff a flower or greet another dog.

I walked alongside them, keeping a watchful eye while Lamine stayed close, enjoying the sight of his little brother’s excitement.

“Good job, Keyne!” I encouraged, giving him a thumbs-up. “You’re doing great with Daisy.”

Keyne beamed with pride, holding the leash tightly as Daisy wagged her tail happily. “Doggy walk!”

We made our way to a small playground in the park, where Daisy eagerly explored while Keyne watched with fascination.

Lamine and I sat on a nearby bench, chatting and enjoying the sunny afternoon while Keyne and Daisy played.

As the sun began to lower in the sky, signaling the end of our outdoor adventure, we made our way back home. Keyne’s energy was starting to wane, his little feet dragging as he walked beside Daisy.

“Looks like someone’s ready for a nap,” Lamine said with a soft smile, reaching down to lift Keyne into his arms.

Daisy followed us back inside, her tail wagging as if she, too, was ready for a rest. We settled back into the living room, Keyne curled up on the couch with Daisy beside him, her head resting gently on his lap.

“Thank you for today,” Lamine said quietly, his hand resting on my shoulder as we watched Keyne and Daisy snuggle together. “It was perfect.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “It really was. I think Keyne had the best day ever.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PETER PAN!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

Author's note: here both of them, anakin and reader, aren't children. Here they're both around 17-18

TW: no smut!

Author's note: a lot of blogs that crossed through my dms had lately decided to deactivate. I fully support them however can't stop this melancholic feeling creeping up my spine. So, my crazy week with posting my work is dedicated to them. @katiapostsss-deactivated2024081 @yrsjune and so on.

divider - @hellfire--cult

You always believed in fairy tales. Every night, you'd curl up under your blankets, eagerly turning the pages of your favorite stories, letting the words transport you to distant lands where anything was possible. But as much as you loved reading about those grand adventures, a quiet longing had taken root in your heart—a yearning to experience the magic firsthand. To leave behind the ordinary world and step into a place where dreams became reality and happiness was more than just a fleeting moment.

One night, after finishing another tale of Neverland, you couldn't ignore the pull any longer. The idea had been growing in your mind for days, and now, it was impossible to resist. You hurried to your desk, your heart racing with the kind of excitement you only felt when you were on the brink of something extraordinary. Grabbing a piece of paper, you scrawled a note in your neatest handwriting:

Dear Peter Pan,

I've left my window open.

Please come rescue me.

You stuck the note to your window, the cool night air drifting in through the gap you'd left. With a final glance at the stars outside, you crawled back into bed, pulling the duvet up to your chin. As you lay there, the house quiet around you, you could feel your pulse quicken with anticipation. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the leaves outside had you holding your breath, hoping that this time, it wasn’t just the wind. Would he really come? Could he be real, like the stories said?

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to miss even the faintest sound that might signal his arrival. And as the night stretched on, you waited—(im)patiently, your heart filled with a mixture of hope and a whisper of doubt. Somewhere deep inside, you knew that if anyone could take you away to where dreams were born, it was him—your favorite hero from all the stories you loved.

Peter Pan!Anakin who actually made your dream come true;

Anakin, dressed in his usual green tunic with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, slipped through the open window with the grace of someone who had done it a hundred times before. His eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, and he took in the surroundings—a cozy space filled with books, twinkling fairy lights, and little trinkets that spoke of a dreamer. A map of Neverland was tacked to the wall, and in the corner sat a small chest overflowing with the kinds of treasures a girl might hoard: seashells, old coins, and feathers.

But then, his gaze landed on you, curled up in bed, your face peaceful in sleep. For a moment, he simply stood there, captivated. You looked like a storybook character yourself, with the moonlight casting a soft glow on your features. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of adventures you dreamed about, or what made you leave that note for him.

Before he could get lost in his thoughts, a sharp tug on his tunic yanked him back to reality. Tinker Bell, her tiny face twisted in annoyance, was buzzing around him like a bright, golden light.

“Hey!” she whispered harshly, her little hands pulling at his shirt. “We’re here for your shadow, remember? Not some girl.”

“Come on, Tink. Look at her. Isn’t she just… enchanting?” He took a step closer to your bed, but Tinker Bell darted in front of him, her tiny arms crossed over her chest.

“She’s nothing special,” Tink huffed, her wings fluttering rapidly. “Let’s just get what we came for and leave.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re just saying that because you’re jealous.”

Tinker Bell’s cheeks flushed an even brighter shade of pink. “I am not!”

Their bickering grew a little louder, and in the midst of it, you stirred. The soft murmur of voices slowly pulled you from sleep, your eyes fluttering open. At first, you thought you were still dreaming—because what you saw couldn’t possibly be real.

A boy, no older than you, stood near your bed, dressed in strange clothes, with tousled hair that looked like it had been styled by the wind itself. Floating beside him was a tiny, glowing figure, radiating light like a star. It took you a moment to realize what you were seeing, and when you did, your heart skipped a beat.

“Peter Pan?” you whispered, your voice tinged with awe and disbelief.

Anakin turned his attention to you, slowly taking in your beautiful eyes. For a moment he just stood there, not saying anything but taking in everything there was about you. He felt this weird feeling of butterflies in his stomach before he composed himself and a charming grin spreading across his face. “The one and only. And you must be the one who left that note.”

You sat up slowly, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Peter Pan was standing in your room, looking even more handsome than you had imagined. “I… I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

He stepped closer, all traces of the earlier argument with Tinker Bell gone from his face. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he said, “Well, you called..and how could I resist an invitation like that?”

Tinker Bell, still hovering nearby, let out an exaggerated sigh but didn’t interrupt again. She could see the way you and Anakin were looking at each other, and she hated it

Peter Pan!Anakin who took you to Neverland and soon later introduced you to all the boys. Although you couldn't shake the tinkler bell's displeasure with your presence. Once you talked about this with anakin, he promised to do something (yet she hadn't really accepted you)

Peter Pan!Anakin who made sure any boy did not flirt with you. Especially Rufio

Peter Pan!Anakin who loves to show off his flying skills;

"But—what if I fall?" Your voice trembled slightly as you looked down at the glistening, see-through blue water below. The height sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but gulp nervously.

Anakin chuckled softly, his eyes dancing with excitement. Hovering effortlessly in the air above the shimmering water, he looked down at you with a cheeky, reassuring grin.

"Oh, darling," he said with a teasing lilt, extending his hand towards you. "But what if you fly?"

"I—" You hesitated, your gaze flickering once more to the soft waves crashing against the cliff. The fear of falling tugged at your heart, making your pulse quicken.

Anakin sensed your hesitation, the flicker of worry in your eyes. His grin softened, turning into a look of pure encouragement. He continued to float with ease, his hand still reaching out to you, his confidence unwavering.

"Come on, love," he coaxed gently, his voice brimming with warmth and certainty. "Take my hand. I won’t let you fall, I promise. Just think of something that makes you happy."

"Happy thought?" You echoed, your voice small, but curious.

"Right, a happy thought." He paused, his gaze deepening as he searched your face. "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine something that fills your heart with joy. It could be the warmth of the sun, the sound of laughter, or a memory that makes you smile. Hold onto that feeling... and trust me."

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. Slowly, you reached out and placed your hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a spark of reassurance through you, and you felt yourself being gently lifted from the ground.

As your feet left the soft grass, you felt a moment of panic, but it quickly subsided as Anakin's grip remained firm yet tender. He guided you into the air, and before you knew it, you were floating beside him, the shimmering water below now seeming more like a distant dream than a threat. The cool breeze kissed your skin, and you marveled at the sensation of weightlessness.

"Open your eyes," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with wonder.

You obeyed, your eyes fluttering open to take in the breathtaking view. The height was dizzying, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

"Oh my—" You gasped, your body instinctively tensing as you realized just how high you were.

Anakin chuckled again, this time more softly, as he wrapped his arm around your waist, anchoring you to him. His presence was grounding, a steadying force in the midst of this surreal experience.

"It’s alright," he soothed, his voice a comforting murmur in your ear. "I’ve got you. Just hold onto that happy thought, yeah?"

You nodded, your lips forming a thin line as you forced yourself to focus on the happiness that had brought you here, rather than the fear. When you looked up at him, his handsome face was glowing with pride and affection.

Anakin smiled at your nod, understanding the depth of trust you had placed in him. He moved closer, his body brushing lightly against yours, a silent reassurance that you were safe with him. The breeze played with your hair as the two of you floated together, suspended in a moment that felt like pure magic.

"See, love?" he murmured, his gaze never wavering from yours. "You’re flying. Just like I promised."

Peter Pan!Anakin who quickly developed feelings towards you

Peter Pan!Anakin who, despite his playful nature, is fiercely protective of you. He won’t hesitate to confront any danger in the forest, whether it’s a mischievous pixie or a dark force threatening your safety.

Peter Pan!Anakin who you made nervous (which was uncommon for someone like him)

Peter Pan!Anakin who you quickly started to call by small nicknames that he loved (always manage to make his cheeks flush)

Peter Pan!Anakin who gave you a bouquet of glowing flowers;

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in rich shades of pink and orange, Anakin found himself deep in thought. Over the past few days, his mind had been occupied with one thing—you. His feelings for you had grown stronger, more intense, and it was getting harder to keep them hidden.

In the quiet of the evening, Anakin busied himself gathering a bouquet of glowing flowers. Their luminescent petals bathed his surroundings in a soft, ethereal light, casting shadows that danced around him as he worked. He wanted to create something beautiful, something that might convey the emotions he couldn’t quite put into words.

"Ani? What are you doing?" Your voice, sweet and soft, broke through his reverie.

Startled, Anakin jumped slightly. He had been so engrossed in his task that he hadn’t even noticed you approaching. His heart raced, a mix of surprise and embarrassment flooding through him. Instinctively, he tried to hide the bouquet behind his back, though it was already too late.

"Nothing! I’m just… uhm…" He stammered, fumbling for words as a faint blush crept across his cheeks. Realizing that he couldn’t hide the flowers or his intentions any longer, he sighed softly and brought the bouquet forward, revealing it with a sheepish smile.

"I… I made these for you…" His voice was tinged with nervousness, his gaze flickering between the bouquet and your eyes.

"For me?" You asked, a mix of surprise and warmth in your voice.

Anakin’s blush deepened, and he nodded, his usual confidence faltering as he anxiously awaited your reaction.

"Yeah, for you. I remembered how much you liked the glowing flowers on our last walk… so I thought I’d gather some for you. I wanted to… brighten your night."

"I--well--thank you," you replied, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

Relief washed over Anakin at your response, and he couldn’t help but return your smile. He shuffled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit of his when he felt nervous or unsure.

"I’m glad you like them. I tried to pick the prettiest ones I could find."

Your smile widened as you stepped closer and you decided to do something new, something you've dreamed about doing for a long time. Standing on your toes, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek

"They're perfect" you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

Anakin’s heart swelled at your words, his smile growing as he held the bouquet out to you, the glowing flowers reflecting in his eyes.

"I’m glad you think so. I wanted to do something special for you… because you’re special to me."

His words were soft, almost shy, as he took a step closer. The glow from the flowers illuminated his face, highlighting the earnest expression in his eyes. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing in the gentle light of the flowers.

Anakin’s heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The soft light cast by the flowers created a halo around you both, making the moment feel even more magical. As his lips met yours, the world fell silent. The only thing that mattered was the tender connection you shared, the warmth of his embrace, and the gentle rhythm of your heartbeats, perfectly in sync.

Lost in the kiss, Anakin felt a sense of completeness he had never known before. He didn’t notice Tinker Bell’s jealous stomping in the distance, too absorbed in the feel of your lips, the softness of your skin, and the way you fit perfectly in his arms. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, wanting to savor every second of this precious moment.

Peterpan!Anakin who often sang soft lullabies to you when you’re falling asleep, his voice soothing and full of love. And he always promised that he’ll always be there to protect you, no matter what.

Peter Pan!Anakin who, despite the thrill of adventure, has his tender moments. He loves to cuddle with you in a cozy treehouse, wrapped up in a blanket while he whispers stories of his past and dreams of the future.

Peter Pan!Anakin who is a dreamer, constantly imagining new adventures, and he's always trying to impress you with his latest idea. Whether it's finding a new hideout, building something impressive, or planning a daring raid on the pirates, he loves when you join him in these endeavors. Your support means everything to him, and he often seeks your approval without even realizing it.

Peter Pan!Anakin who makes sure to keep you safe from the mermaids, or the treacherous jungles. He'd probably do anything to ensure you're happy and safe, even if it means putting himself in harm's way.

Peter Pan!Anakin who has a special place in Neverland that he never showed anyone else until he met you. It's a secluded spot, perhaps a hidden waterfall or a secret treehouse, where he goes to think and be alone. When he finally takes you there, it's a significant moment, symbolizing how much you mean to him and how much he trusts you.

Peter Pan!Anakin who loves using the magic of Neverland to play tricks and have fun. He might use fairy dust to create harmless pranks, like making your hair float or turning your shadow into a playful doppelgänger

Peter Pan!Anakin who uses you as a comforting presence when he doubts himself.

Peter Pan!Anakin who makes a promise to you, something sacred in the context of Neverland. It could be a vow to always find his way back to you, no matter where you are, or to show you a new star every night.

Peter Pan!Anakin who was first to snuggle up to you when the time came for you to tell a goodnight story to the lost boys

Peter Pan!Anakin who had to save you from captain hook

Peter Pan!Anakin who took you to different places to spend more time with you;

Hand in hand, Anakin gently guided you through the lush, enchanting greenery of Neverland until you reached a serene spot that overlooked a breathtaking view of the setting sun. The sky was a canvas of warm hues—orange, pink, and gold—casting a soft glow over the landscape. A cool breeze brushed against your skin as you stood together, taking in the beauty around you.

He led you to a large, flat rock, the perfect place to sit and watch the world slow down. You both settled down side by side, the sun sinking ever so slowly toward the horizon.

"Now you're just neglecting the Lost Boys,"* you teased, a playful giggle escaping your lips.

Anakin chuckled in response, the sound warm and familiar. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he glanced at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Ah, but they’re used to it," he quipped, turning his gaze back to the vibrant sunset, the colors reflecting in his eyes. "They’re resourceful boys; they’ll manage just fine."

"Besides," he continued with a grin "I’m indulging in my favorite princess right now. The Lost Boys can wait their turn."

As Anakin admired the sunset, lost in the moment, you found yourself unable to take your eyes off him. His strong profile was softened by the fading light, and something about this moment made you want to express what was on your mind.

"You're different from how books describe you..." you mused softly, a small smile tugging at your lips, even though you knew the concept of books was foreign to him.

Anakin chuckled again, the sound low and rich as he continued to gaze at the setting sun. He could feel your eyes on him, and there was a curious edge to his voice when he finally responded.

Turning to meet your gaze, he arched an eyebrow in a blend of playfulness and curiosity "What’s...book?"

You shook your head, a slight smile still on your lips. "Nothing. Don’t mind it," you replied, brushing off the question, knowing it would lead to more complexities than you were ready to explain.

Anakin studied you for a moment, sensing that there was more behind your words. But instead of pushing further, he turned his attention back to the sunset. A brief silence hung between you, filled only by the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of Neverland’s creatures. Then, with a playful smirk, he turned back to you.

"You’re quite the mystery, you know that?" his voice carrying a hint of admiration mixed with a teasing edge, his eyes still reflecting the vibrant colors of the sunset.

Peter Pan!Anakin who's mood each time fell whenever you mentioned going back to your world

Peter Pan!Anakin who deeply conflicted about the idea of growing up, especially when it comes to your relationship. He fears that you’ll eventually want to leave and grow old, while he stays the same

Peter Pan!Anakin who eventually had to accept your decision;

Anakin listened intently as you spoke, his expression growing somber. He knew this conversation was inevitable, but he had been dreading it, avoiding the harsh reality of losing you.

"I know...I know." His voice was thick with emotion, and he paused, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat "But what about Neverland? What about... us?"

When you suggested he come with you, a flicker of hope and doubt crossed his eyes. Yet, the idea of leaving Neverland, the only place he had ever called home, was almost unthinkable.

"You know I can't. This is my home. Neverland is all I know," he murmured, the corners of his mouth turning downward as he grappled with the decision before him.

You stepped closer, your eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and love.

"Please, Ani. I want you with me. I don’t want to leave you behind."

He sighed, his heart caught in a tug-of-war between his love for you and his love for Neverland. The weight of the decision bore down on him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped between two worlds.

But then, his eyes darkened, his expression growing more serious

"And grow up? Turn into an adult? Live a mundane life with mundane jobs and worries?" He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. The thought of abandoning the magic and freedom of Neverland for a life of routines and responsibilities made his stomach churn.

"It’s going to be okay...it’s not so bad—" You tried to reassure him, but your voice wavered, betraying your uncertainty. However you started to feel the watery liquid raise in your eyes but you managed to blink them off before they could escape their place

Anakin raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his face.

"Not so bad? It’s going to be a life of routine and expectations. We’ll be losing all of this—the magic, the adventures, the freedom…" His voice softened, laden with the weight of what he was about to say. "I don’t want to lose you either, but I don’t know if it’s worth the cost."

"What? I—anakin—" Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to make him understand. "I can’t just leave my family like that..."

"And I can’t just leave Neverland. Everything I’ve ever known, everything I’ve ever loved...this is my home." His voice wavered as his own eyes began to mist over. "I...I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t uproot everything I know to follow you."

A heavy silence hung between you, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you.

"So...this is how it ends?" You whispered softly, your voice trembling with emotion. You could fight, make him understand that being an adult isn't so bad like he thinks it is. Yes, there are responsibilities but still, it's not so bad. Yet, you found yourself submitting to his decision, to his slight stubbornness. And in that moment, you started to let go.

Anakin's heart felt like it was being torn in two. The pain in your voice mirrored the pain in his own heart.

"I guess so...I suppose this is where we say goodbye." He tried to keep his voice steady, but the sadness seeped through, making his words sound hollow. He stared at you, memorizing every detail of your face, knowing this might be the last time he’d see you.

With a deep breath, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss filled with sadness and longing. The knowledge that this might be the last time they would ever kiss made him cling to the moment, trying to make it last just a little longer. When the kiss finally ended, he took a shaky breath, his voice barely a whisper.

"But goodbyes aren’t forever, you know? We’ll meet again...someday, lost girl"

A small, pained smile tugged at the corners of his lips as you let out a dry chuckle, your attempt to mask the pain. He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

"You take care of yourself out there, okay?" His voice was tender, laced with a love that couldn’t be easily expressed in words.

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes, and leaned in to press a small kiss to his swollen lips, sealing your bittersweet goodbye.

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[seriesxwriting]

Interested

Pairing: reader x Stefan Salvatore

Series: tvd, the vampire diaries

Summary: All Stefan keeps talking about is his ex. That’s not what a girl wants to hear her crush talk about.

Warnings: drinking, kissing, I don’t think there’s any swearing but you never know with me.

“Elena Elena Elena” I rolled my eyes flopping onto my bed. Caroline sat at my desk watching me with one eyebrow up. “I can see it’s bothering you” she slowly lowered her eyebrow and put her hands together. I rolled onto my side looking over at her. “It’s all he ever talks about” I sighed making my eyes turn in. “One, don’t do that it freaks me out” Caroline shook her head. “And two” she started as she stood up walking over to the side of the bed. “Look I love you y/n but when it comes to men- you’re flirting isn’t really- the best”.

“Oh so it’s my fault he can’t get over his ex” I sat up straight at a quicker pace than lightning. “No” she snapped at me “I’m just saying Stefan probably doesn’t even know you’re interested, if he did he wouldn’t be talking about other girls” “oh but it’s not just any other girl- it’s Elena, she’s so perfect, she’s so pretty”. Caroline rubbed my arm sympathetically with a tiny smile. “Show him you’re interested, he probably will be too”, “but what if he’s not, what if he really is still in love with her”.

“Then that’s his loss, not yours, you get over him and show him how it’s done” Caroline winked at me perking up slightly. I chewed on my lip thinking about it. “Okay, I’ll up my flirting game” I nodded my head and rubbed my hands together as if I was creating some manipulative plan to kidnap him or end the world. “Atta girl, you’ll see him at the party right, there’s your chance” “Stefans picking me up” I stood up going over to my wardrobe. “Really? He told me he couldn’t drive me because he had plans before it and they might run over” Caroline scrunched her face in deep thought at my blue rug laying on the floor.

“Caroline, focus- what the hell do I wear” I ordered bringing her attention back onto me standing in between hangers upon hangers of clothes. “A dress, what about that white one your mum brought you for your birthday?” She shrugged, her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers when the idea came to her. “This one?” I questioned pulling it out and holding it over my body. “Yeah wear that, it’s well cute- with the boots you had on when you came to sleep at mine last week” “casual but cute, I like your thinking” I nodded hanging it on my wardrobe door.

“Right babe I better get a move on, I need to be ready for six I’m catching a ride with Elena and Damon” she told me standing up and collecting her stuff putting it in her bag. “Alright care I’ll see you later thanks for everything” I walked over and we embraced each other sighing into one another’s hair. “Chin up, practice some flirting- maybe watch a YouTube video” she offered up as she stepped back. “I’m not doing that!” I sniggered shaking my head. “Your loss” she shrugged giggling silently as she left my room. Leaving me to my own devices.

I pulled the dress down and put it across my body holding it up in front of the mirror. It took me just over an hour to get ready. I had a shower, blow dried and curled my y/h/c hair. Before putting on my outfit. I tried on about five coats to see which one was the best. Eventually I went with a black bomber jacket. And with that the time turned quarter past six, the door bell went off on the dot. So Stefan Salvatore of him. I smiled grabbing my bag and jumping towards my bedroom door knowing who was downstairs. I grasped the handle taking deep breaths composing myself.

I walked down the stairs, my house was empty right now as both parents were away on holiday in England. I wondered to the front door as my heart pounded against my chest. I yanked it open and there he stood with tulips in his hands and the famous Stefan smile. He looked so cute. “H-hi” he stuttered as his eyes dragged down me blatantly. “You look- amazing- stunning- well… beautiful” he stuttered unsure of what word he wanted to use.

“You cleaned up too- are these for me?” I raised my eyebrow at the gesture. “Of course” he smiled passing them across to me. “They’re gorgeous, I can’t believe you brought me flowers” I smiled from ear to ear. “Come in while I buy them in a vase”. My mind raced, why had Stefan brought me flowers, was this a date? No we’re just friends right. I came back out the kitchen and he’d been waiting in the hall. “All ready?” I quizzed grabbing my bag that I’d left on the side. “Yeah, let’s get going” he nodded his head out the door. “Elenas already there”.

“Of course she is” I gave him a fake smile sighing before coldly grabbing the Handel and walking out first. “And Damon and care of course” Stefan told me following me out, though he had to raise his voice a tad because of the distance I’d gone. “Lift the Handel up all the way” I ordered not even turning around. I heard him do as I said before joining me inside the car. “I think we’re all really in need of this bonfire party” Stefan began as he drove off my drive.

“Mm me too, it’s been a stressful few months” “uh huh especially with all the elena stuff going on” Stefan laughed but again my eyes subtly rolled and my stomach sank. Could he go five minutes without mentioning her. “How about we stop talking about Elena for tonight, what better way to get over her than at a party” “oh I’m over her” Stefan chuckled re gripping the steering wheel. “Well a party is definitely in need, never know who we might meet”. “It’s mystic falls everyone knows everyone” Stefan shook his head. We turned into the woodlands where the party was happening.

We could already see the cloud of smoke rising from the fire. The crowd circling round it, chatting and drinking. “Park over there that’s Bonnie’s car” I pointed out but Stefan was already turning into a spot, I noticed Damon’s car being right next to us. “It’s alright this one’s bigger”. Sure it is Stefan sure it is. We both got out and soon made our way towards the people. “Let’s grab drinks first” his hand attached its self to my lower back as we waded through the crowd. I felt my heart pound and it made me relax into him.

We grabbed two beers and by the time we’d turned around elena was running up to us “Stefan! Y/n!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and then did the same to me. “Hey” I answered bluntly with a flick of my hand. “I started to think you two weren’t coming” “we just got- held up” Stefan struggled looking at me, I smiled knowingly and a warm sensation came across me knowing Elena had no idea what we were talking about.

Damon strolled over coming to say hi to us. “Well come on, everyone’s over near the bridge” he nodded his head. “we’ll catch up with you soon” Stefan shrugged answering before I could. Him saying that made me really excited, I wanted it to just be me and him so I could up my flirting game. “Oh come on stef I haven’t seen you in ages no one has apart from y/n, come and catch up with everyone”. His eyes flicker between me and Elena for a second or two. “Alright” he smiled simply and Elena squealed. “Come on then” she grabbed Damon’s wrist and Stefan started following them nodding to me to come with him.

We landed at the group where Bonnie, Tyler, Caroline, Matt and Jeremy were all waiting for us with smiles. We all exchanged hi’s and then jumped into conversation. My excitement was short lived, I loved my friends but I just wanted some alone time with Stefan. Though I wasn’t complaining too much because he didn’t really leave my side the whole night. We stayed in the same position talking, laughing and drinking for most of the night. Though Bonnie and care soon dragged me over to dance and I brought Stefan with me.

“How are you so good at this!” I laughed as Stefan spun me around and pulled me towards him. “I’ve had years of experience” he smiled close to my face. My hand was on his shoulder and the other his bicep while both of his were wrapped around my waist. “Have you always liked dancing?” “When I can dance with someone as pretty as you” he nodded making me smile again. “Stefan- Stefan!”. And just like that our moment was ruined. He pulled away from me and Elena ran through the crowd her eyes were full of tears.

“What’s wrong?” “Damon’s left- we got into an argument and he stormed off” “what about?” His eyebrow raised “I’ll explain it all to you, can you take me home please?” “I…” Stefan looked at me. “Bonnie will take you home- or you could call a taxi” I offered to Elena. “I know I know- I just really want to talk to you Stefan, you understand me in a different way and im hysterical right now” she wiped her eyes sitting back on her leg. “It’s okay I’ll take you home” he nodded completely pulling away from me now and standing on her side.

She threw her arms around him thanking him. “I’ll see you later y/n” he rubbed my arm before him and Elena left the crowed. I watched them walk all the way over to the car. “I’m sorry girl, she ruined your moment I thought he was going to kiss you then” Caroline came round with her hand on my shoulder. “No- he wasn’t” I shook my head. “He’s not over her, I’m going home” I smiled at her with tears In my eyes. “But he’s coming back for you” Caroline shook her head.

“He’s not care, he’ll be with her all night, I’m calling a taxi” I nodded hugging her before removing myself from the crowd. I waited for the taxi on the main road and it took me promptly home. As soon as I got in my removed the stupid dress and put my pjs on. I thought I was doing alright until I stepped into the kitchen for some water. I saw the flowers. My heart shattered. Tears slowly fell down my face as I realised I was never getting him. He didn’t love me like he loved her. I slid down the wall and took a seat on the kitchen floor.

I didn’t know how long I’d been there crying just staring at the flowers trying to make sense of them. A knock on the door pulled me out of my day dream. I wiped my face and went over to the door. When I pulled it open Stefan stood there. I blinked confused about why he was on my door step. “What do you want?” I asked harshly. Which maybe was a bit mean. “Well- I went back to the party to find you but care said I’d messed up and just kept tutting at me” he struggled still looking a bit confused. “So you came to check on me?”

“You look like you needed someone to check on you, are you crying?”. “No” I answered bluntly moving my eye contact to the ground. Stefan squeezed past me walking into my house and turning into the kitchen. He switched the kettle on and got two cups out while I closed the door. “You just inviting yourself in now?” “Nope you already invited me in once, we’re going to sit down and you’re going to tell me what’s wrong- or what I done wrong”.

“You haven’t done anything wrong Stefan- it’s nobody’s fault” “so why are you talking to me like I’ve done something wrong?” He raised an eyebrow walking towards me. “Because it feels like you have but I know deep down it’s wrong to blame you, you can’t help it” I sighed looking at the floor. “Help what?” He quizzed lifting my chin up with his hand. “That your not over Elena- that you love her more than you’ll ever like me, and that’s not your fault that’s mine- I fell for you at the wrong time and I put my hands up for that and honestly you can’t help who you like and even though it’s not me I shouldn’t blame you for that because…”

“Y/n!” “Stop talking!”. I looked up at him with full eyes. “Let me just finish explaining- I don’t want you to think I’m…” and with that Stefan cut me off by pressing his lips onto mine. “Why are you kissing me?” I whispered against his lips. He kissed me again for a second or two before admitting “I’m interested in you y/n”. Hearing that made me pull him closer to me and make the kiss harder. His hands held my waist close to him. When we eventually pulled away he put his forehead on mine. “If your interest in me why’d you drop me for Elena constantly, why do you always talking about her with me”.

“I don’t drop you for her y/n, she’s delicate and even though we aren’t together I’ll still look out for her, I made her a promise in the same way that she is now my sister in law, she’s family so if she needs me I’ll be there but I will always be back for you y/n- I came back for you tonight”. I bit my lip feeling slightly bad for not thinking about that. “And the reason I’m constantly bringing her up- is because… you reached out to me after the break up and we grew close immediately, I just didn’t want you to go anywhere”.

“That- doesn’t make sense” I shook my head completely confused. “I thought if you thought I was healed you wouldn’t want to see me as regularly because I wouldn’t need you”. “So- you pretended to miss her because you didn’t want me to leave?” “I didn’t think it through- I panicked” he sighed stepping backwards clearly embarrassed that I’d caught onto it. “So- you’re over her?” I looked up at him hopeful.

My eyes sparkled with tears, Stefan took that step back toward me and cupped my face. “Very much so, yes” he nodded in a whisper. “I understand if you don’t believe me- I shouldn’t have done what I did I can’t imagine how it made you feel” he sighed brushing my cheeks with his thumbs. I put my hands around his neck shaking my head. “I believe you Stefan” “you believe that I’m interested in you and you only?”. I nodded my head but couldn’t help the little corner smile.

“That’s what I wanted to see, there’s my girl” he whispered as my smile grew and my cheeks burnt red. “I’m all yours” I whispered running a hand through his hair. “About time”.

Stefan masterlist-

Tvd masterlist-

All series masterlist-

Masterlist of masterlists-

[lieyarzy]

Family

Note: Fluff and fluff only, since I'm sad as i didn't get the character that i wanted to pull🥲

Synopsis: A jealous father, wanting to spend the free time he had with his wife but a little dragon is stoping him from doing so.

Malleus Draconia, a powerful and respected wizard, was known for his stoic demeanor and unwavering focus. However, there was one person who could easily melt his heart - his son. The little boy, with his wide-eyed curiosity and infectious laughter, had Malleus wrapped around his tiny finger. And of course, there was Reader, his beloved wife, the center of their small but warm family.

One sunny afternoon, Malleus found himself in a peculiar situation. He had planned to spend the day with the Reader, perhaps take a walk in the garden or enjoy a quiet lunch together. However, their son had other plans. The little boy was insistent on playing with his mother, tugging at her sleeve and pleading with his adorable puppy eyes.

"But, my little prince," Malleus tried to reason with his son, "your mother and I had plans for today."

The boy looked up at Malleus, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. "But I want to play with Mommy," he insisted.

Malleus couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He loved his son dearly, but he also cherished the moments he spent alone with Reader. He missed their quiet conversations, their shared laughter, and the peaceful moments when they simply enjoyed each other's company.

Seeing the conflict in her husband's eyes, Reader chuckled softly. "How about this," she proposed, "we can all spend the day together. We can have a picnic in the garden, and maybe play some games. How does that sound?"

Their son's face lit up at the suggestion, and he nodded eagerly. "Yes, let's do that!"

Malleus couldn't help but smile at his family's enthusiasm. He agreed to the plan, and they spent the day together, enjoying the warm sunshine and each other's company. They played hide and seek, had a delicious picnic, and even had a small magic show where Malleus and the Reader took turns showing their son some simple spells.

As the day came to an end, Malleus found himself watching his wife and son with a warm feeling in his heart. He realized that even though he didn't get to spend the day alone with Reader, he wouldn't trade these moments for anything. The laughter, the shared joy, and the love that filled their home was more than he could ever ask for.

That night, as Malleus tucked their son into bed, the little boy looked up at him with sleepy eyes. "Daddy, I had a lot of fun today," he said, yawning. "Can we do it again tomorrow?"

Malleus chuckled, kissing his son's forehead. "We'll see, my little prince. Now, it's time to sleep."

As he left their son's room, Malleus found Reader waiting for him. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head in his chest, "You must feel very jealous dear hahahaha"

Malleus holds her waist and pulls her closer, "I might love our child dear but i still want to spend some alone time with you, the work stops me from doing so and now our child too." Reader then looks up at Malleus and holds his face, gently patting it "We can still spend some time with each other alone dear that is if you give our child to Lilia, i heard his missing our child and wanted to spend some time with him."

Malleus then perks up at this and thinks of everything that he can do with his wife alone.....

[anantaru]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐓

after a long day you find yourself back in between scaramouche’s warm embrace while gossiping to your hearts content.

୨୧ A/N: i couldn't help myself and had to bring my own personal headcanon of boyfriend kuni to life !

୨୧ WARNINGS: fluff, gn! reader, he‘s a gossip boyfriend we know, this is from a small headcanon i have which i posted earlier.

what’s there better in life than slowly dancing into your boyfriends firm arms after a long tired day full of working out your duties.

"you’re so comfy kuni."

additionally, you’re aware that he’s quite content when you shower him in praise and caresses, it's truly a give and take of soft intimacy exchanged by the both of you.

to calm his mind, before anything, he’ll gather you in his arms and archons, kuni’s cuddles were the absolute best!

somehow they were reminding you of a sweet, warm blanket carefully laced over your tired body, coaxing out welding sparks of deep affection.

not to mention that it aided the coldness that clasped on your shivering skin, balancing out your natural body heat.

with you tightly nuzzled on his chest and resting, scaramouche softly placed his hand on your head, massaging your scalp with tiny, circling movements of his firm fingerpads.

"care to tell me about your day?"

with this, he could clearly perceive the heightened beat of your heart on him, how the vibrations soothed his being and soul alone, no time to be wasted, freezing in place with only you both present.

moreover, your breathing was warm and firm on his skin, it aroused an emotion of familiarity in the back of his mind.

a love like this was cherished by him forever, nothing could beat this.

"my day was fine, you should’ve seen my co-worker though."

at the climax of your sentence, you propped your chin on his chest while being tightly encircled by his caring arms, continuing.

"i think he took back his ex."

scaramouche raised his eyebrow at you, his eyes lit up with an inner glow of mischief, "you mean the co-worker that got cheated on?"

on a serious note, he couldn’t suppress a giggle this time, your random stories might be the very thing he looked forward to the most.

"you remember? yes, they got back together!"

a bemused, loving smile swelled within you, most people won't think much of it but the fact that scaramouche remembered a random story you had told him a month ago was filling you with sweet joy and bliss, flabbergasted in delight.

"huh, why shouldn’t i remember?" the witty commentary was the norm, you were used to it by now and found it rather amusing.

"my memory is still good why thank you."

scaramouche had his lips slightly curved up in a flustered smile, melting in a smirk, his eyes were lightly averted back and roamed through the empty, warm room.

"your memory is the absolute best kuni." in all honesty, he had no words for the gratitude he perceived in that stilling moment from you.

as if the whole wide world was casting love on him.

"so what now?" on a deeper tone, he questioned your sudden silence, pulling you out off your daydreaming thoughts.

"what happened next? don't leave me on a cliffhanger!"

©2022 anantaru do not share, copy, translate

[lvnleah]

Sick Days | Leah Williamson x Lia Wälti

Summary: Sage wakes up with a sore tummy and Leah and Lia spend the day taking care of their bubba.

Word count: 1.7k

This hasn’t been edited so ignore any mistakes!

Thank you to @scribblesofagoonerr and @wosoamazing for the amazing help you gave me when I struggled writing this!

part two can be found here

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Leah and Lia laid in their cosy bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the baby monitor screen. Sage’s room was just down the hallway and although she was now three years old, Leah liked having the baby monitor near her to keep her mind at ease.

Leah’s arm was draped over Lia’s stomach as the pair slept peacefully together. Leah’s sleep was soon interrupted when she heard Sage’s cries echo through the monitor.

She gently removed her arm from around Lia’s waist, rubbing her eyes before rolling out of her bed.

Lia blinked, disoriented by sleep, “Is that Sage?”

Leah yawned, nodding her head as she slipped her slippers on, “Yeah, I’m going to go check on her.”

“Want me to come with you?” Lia offered, concerned by the three year olds cries, “She never wakes up in the night.”

“It’s okay love,” Leah whispered, kissing Lia’s temple, “She’s probably just lost her teddy again,” she joked.

Leah left their bedroom and made her way across the hallway to Sage’s, the cold floorboards creaking as she walked down across them. The blonde flicked the hallway light on before opening Sage’s door, the light reflecting into the room so she could see her surroundings.

“Mumma!” Sage’s voice trembled, her cheeks stained with tears, “Tummy!”

Leah’s heart broke at the sight in front of her, she hated seeing her baby girl in pain, “Oh bubba, what’s wrong? Have you got a sore tummy?”

Sage nodded, “Hurts Mumma,” She managed to mumble through tears, “Tummy hurts.”

“My poor bubba,” Leah cooed, lifting Sage up from her toddler bed. “Wanna come into Mumma and Mummy’s room?”

Sage clang to Leah’s chest, slowly nodding her head against Leah’s shoulder. Leah scooped up Sage’s favourite blanket and teddy with her spare up, her hand gently rubbing up and down Sage’s back.

She carried the toddler across the hallway, her tears slowing down as she comforted her in her arms. As she entered the bedroom, Lia’s face was instantly covered with concern about their daughter.

“What’s wrong?” Lia asked, sitting up in their bed and flicking on the lamp beside her.

“Her tummy hurts,” Leah said, dropping Sage’s teddy and blanket on the bed, “I think she might have a bug or something coming.”

Lia’s brow furrowed as she reached out to touch Sage’s forehead. The little girl’s skin felt warm, and her eyes were still puffy from crying.

“Poor baby,” Lia murmured. “Let’s get her settled.”

Leah gently placed Sage between them on the bed. The toddler clung to her teddy bear, its worn fur comforting against her cheek as she cuddled into Lia’s side. Lia pulled the blanket up to Sage’s chin, tucking her in snugly.

Whilst Lia comforted Sage, Leah left the room to get some medicine. After a little while Leah returned with a bottle of kids medicine, she measured out the correct dosage before handing the syringe to Lia.

“Can you take this for Mummy?” Lia cooed, brushing Sage’s blonde hair away from her face.

Sage shook her head, burying it more in the crook of Lia’s neck, “No, yucky!”

Sage’s refusal was unwavering. She clung to Lia, her tiny face scrunched up in defiance. Leah exchanged a knowing look with Lia, both mothers determined to find a solution.

“Bubba, it’ll make you feel so so much better!” Leah tried to persuade the three year old.

“No!” She shook her head once again, “Yucky, not nice!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Lia said softly, placing a kiss on Sage’s forehead. “How about this, you take the medicine for Mummy and Mama and later on we can watch a movie during breakfast, deal?”

Sage eyed the medicine as she hesitated before slowly nodding her head. Leah gently guided the syringe into her mouth, Sage’s little features screwing up in disgust as she swallowed the medicine.

As Leah carefully set the syringe down, Sage's tiny body convulsed, and before either of them could react, she vomited over the bed. Leah's heart clenched with worry. She reached for the trash can by the bedside, holding it close as Sage continued to be sick. Lia rubbed Sage's back, murmuring soothing words.

Leah gently wiped Sage's mouth with a tissue. "It's okay, bubba," she whispered. "Mummy's here."

Lia held the trash can steady as Leah slipped away to grab a cold cloth. Both of their hearts ached as they watched their baby girl throw up, tears slipping down her face.

After a while, the sickness subsided, and Sage grew tired once again. Leah took charge of changing the bedsheets, while Lia changed Sage into a fresh pair of pyjamas. They worked together silently, their love for Sage binding them even in these difficult moments.

An hour later, they all climbed into bed together, Sage cozied between them. Her little hand twirled Leah's blonde hair, seeking comfort. As the room settled down, Sage eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Leah woke up to the warm sun peeking through the curtains. She stirred first, her eyes adjusting to the soft light. She turned to find Lia still asleep, Sage was snuggled up to her chest as Lia held her close.

After Sage’s little sickness spell, they were woken up a few times by the toddler. It had been a rough night for them all, Sage couldn’t sleep due to being hot one minute and cold the next.

Leah gently slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Lia and Sage as she did so. The couple were due at training in a couple hours but with the way things were last night, Leah was unsure if they would make it to training.

Lia stirred, blinking up at Leah. Their eyes met, and Lia’s lips curved into a sleepy smile. Leah leaned down, brushing her lips against Lia’s forehead.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Morning,” Lia yawned, running her hand over Sage’s blonde hair, “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty,” Leah said, “Is she still warm?”

Lia nodded, “Yep, poor baby. What are we doing about training?”

Leah sighed, “She comes first and I think today we should just leave training, both of us have hardly slept and it wouldn’t be good for us to go when we’re running on no sleep. We can’t risk it.”

Before Lia had the chance to answer Leah, Sage began to stir. Her blonde hair was tousled from the little sleep she managed to get.

“Mumma?” Sage’s voice was soft, still heavy with sleep.

Leah leaned over, brushing Sage’s hair away from her forehead as she stretched her little legs. “I’m here bubba, how’re you feeling?”

“Yucky.” the toddler mumbled. “I’m cold, Mumma.”

Lia grabbed Sage’s blanket and wrapped her in it tightly, “Better bubs?” Lia asked, getting a nod in response from Sage.

“I’m sorry Bubba,” Leah sighed, “Are you hungry? Would you like Mumma to get you some breakfast?”

Sage nodded her head sleepily. Leah picked up Sage and carried her to the kitchen. The toddler clung to her, her tiny arms wrapped around Leah’s neck while her body was wrapped in a little blanket to keep her warm. Lia followed, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

Leah set Sage down on the kitchen side, wrapped up in her little blanket. “What would you like for breakfast, my little sunshine?”

“Pancakes please,” Sage mumbled, her voice still groggy.

Leah chuckled. “Pancakes it is, my sweet girl.” She reached for the flour and began mixing the batter, while Lia pulled out a frying pan.

Sage reached out to Lia, making grabby hands for her, “Mummy snuggles?”

“You want snuggles, bubs?” Lia cooed, picking up Sage in her blanket.

Sage clung tightly to Lia, her arms wrapped tightly around her neck while her legs wrapped around her torso. Lia walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa, Sage was now sat in her lap but she could tell she wasn’t moving anytime soon.

Sage rested in Lia’s lap, her eyes fluttering as she fought off sleep. Her fingers traced soothing patterns on the toddler’s back. “You’re safe, my little one,” she murmured. “Mummy’s here.”

While Leah made the pancakes, Lia phoned Jonas to let him know neither of them would be in today. He was disappointed, he was going to be missing two valuable players from training, but he understood that their little girl came first.

The aroma of freshly cooked pancakes filled the room, and Leah brought over a plate of pancakes for Sage.

“Want some pancakes, Bubba?” Leah asked, sitting down next to Lia.

Sage shook her head, digging her face more into Lia’s chest. Leah and Lia exchange a look, knowing it was going to be hard to get Sage to have something to eat.

Lia placed a kiss on Sage’s forehead, her voice gentle. "Sage, sweetheart, how about we make a deal? If you eat some of your pancakes, we'll let you watch a movie."

Sage's eyes brightened. "Movie?" she asked, intrigued.

Leah joined in, playing along. "Yes, whatever movie you want"

Sage hesitated, neford she nodded. "Okay, Mummy."

Leah grinned, whisking the plate of pancakes closer. "Deal."

Lia cut a small piece and held it up to Sage's lips. The toddler chewed slowly, her eyes fixed on the TV in the living room.

Leah turned the tv on, “What movie do you want to watch, bubs?”

“Punzle!” Sage mumbled.

As rapunzel played, Sage's eyelids drooped. She fought to stay awake, but the combination of pancakes and cosy cuddles was too much. Her breathing evened out, and she drifted off, her little hand clutching Lia’s top.

Leah reached for the remote, lowering the volume. “She’s out,” she whispered.

Lia moved her head back so she could see Sage’s face, “Yeah, she must be tired. I keep saying it but poor Bubba.”

Leah pulled Lia into her chest, “I’m proud of you, y’know.” She kissed Lia’s temple, “We’ve worked well as a team last night and today. It’s her first time being properly sick and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I love you,” Lia smiled, leaning up and kissing Leah’s lips, “Maybe football isn’t the only thing we’re good at doing together.”

Leah chuckled, “I love you too, there’s many many things we’re good at together.”

As the sound of the movie enveloped the room, Leah and Lia found themselves sinking into the cushions of the couch. Their eyelids grew heavy, and the warmth of Sage's little hand still rested on Lia's chest.

Leah shifted closer to Lia, their fingers entwining the other side of Lia’s body. The TV screen blurred, the fall and rise of Sage's breaths being the only thing that they were able to hear.

In that quiet moment, Leah and Lia’s breathing synchronised, and the world outside faded away. The room held them, as sleep claimed them one by one.

[wild-typo-turtle]

Threads - Part 9

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content eventually (slow burn), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine

Dreamcasting: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Content Notes for Part 9: Here there be smut! Yes, we've finally gotten there. Please do not read this chapter if you do not care for smut (my style runs on the M side of E, but there's details), or if you are not at least 18+.

Part 9

There was no change to how Lavan and Pendes carried out their duties, once they arrived. They were as calm and efficient as ever: Pendes prepared the wash basin for Linnea to clean her face and her hands, and while she washed, Lavan laid out her nightclothes and her robe. 

The preparations had put a temporary wall in front of her grief. But it was flimsy, barely a few sticks tossed together. Soon enough, it would break again - and everything seemed to make that heap of sticks shudder. Even the lavender petals that floated in the bowl of hot water reminded her of Lhenes, of how it had been one of her mother’s favorite flowers.

Her eyes prickled as she dried her face. But as that wall threatened to burst open, she felt a gentle warmth in her chest, as if someone had lit a candle in her very heart. 

And there was a soft whisper at the back of her thoughts, and this time she knew she was not imagining it.

I am here, melethel.    

It was enough. At least for the moment.

Once she had washed and changed, Linnea settled back down at her dressing table, and Pendes quickly removed her hair ornaments and the thin silver circlet she had worn that day. She stared at herself in the mirror as Pendes drew a wide-toothed comb through her hair and then deftly re-braided the top. Lavan’s choices in what she had laid out betrayed no assumptions; the nightgown was creamy silk, it was true, but the cut was simple and modest. And the nightrobe was the same deep green silk as she usually wore. Nothing to imply that she would not be going to her own bed that night.

Come to me when you are ready.

It seemed she was, as Pendes finished with the braid and stepped back. Lavan had been moving through the other parts of Linnea’s rooms, straightening and tidying; since Linnea had been out most of the day, there was little to do, and she had finished at the same time as Pendes.  

“Should we arrive at the usual time tomorrow morning, my lady?”

It was Lavan who had spoken. Her head was tilted down towards the floor; even had she not been veiled, Linnea would not have been able to see her expression. 

She thought quickly about how to answer. Ereinion typically rose before she did; he had been maintaining his habit of taking an hour in the morning for contemplation, settling his spirit before facing the day. By the time she usually awoke, he had already been up for quite some time.  

“Yes,” she replied. “The King rises early. I will be ready for you at the normal hour.”  

“Very good, Your Grace. Is there anything else you require?”

“No thank you,” she said softly. “You may go.”

They bowed and left, and the rooms went quiet.

She knew she had no reason to be nervous. Nothing was going to happen that night - nothing except what Ereinion had offered her. Let me ease your pain. But she was going to him; she would sleep in his arms. She would know what it meant to share his bed, to wake with him next to her. The intimacy still to come, their wedding night when they would lie together, seemed to almost pale in comparison. 

Almost.

Linnea rose to her feet, moving slowly out into the main room. Would he be ready for her? Should she give him a few more moments of privacy? He had come to her straight from the council meeting, or so it had appeared. Would he want more time to himself?

But she knew how she would feel, had she been waiting for him. She would not have been able to think of anything else.

She bit her lip, trying to settle the butterflies in her stomach as she approached the door, and opened it with a hand that trembled. The guards had changed when she had returned from the city, and it was Laebel and Natthor on duty that night outside her rooms.

“Good evening,” she said, working hard to keep her voice steady. “I will be going up to the King’s rooms now.” 

She had taken long enough.

Ereinion had changed too, and was standing by the fireplace as she stepped off the staircase. There was a goblet of wine in his hand, and another sitting full on the table next to the hearth - but she barely noticed. 

No crown, his hair loose over his shoulders. Beautiful hair was a point of pride among their people, and she hadn’t ever failed to appreciate how blessed he was. His feet were bare like her own, peeking out from the hem of a long, pale gold nightrobe. Above the edges of the robe, she could see the collar of a silk shirt, an even lighter gold, buttoned just at the base of his throat with a star-shaped pearl clasp. Other than the pearl, and the two rings on his right hand, he was without adornment.

But he was enough, all on his own. Any jewels would have been outshone, as pale dewdrops placed next to the brightest of diamonds.

“Meleth nín,” she breathed. 

The glass in his hands wobbled slightly, the liquid in it giving the tiniest slosh, as his eyes landed on her. He smiled - but she could see he was nervous too, and it helped those butterflies calm down, helped her hands steady.

But he didn’t speak, and she searched his face as she walked to him. As she drew closer, she could see that his hand was tight on the stem of the goblet he held.

“What is it?” 

Ereinion’s smile widened, just the smallest bit. But at the same time, he closed his eyes, shaking his head softly.

“I would tell you that you are beautiful,” he murmured. “But there are no words that are adequate for that. And so I can only marvel at you, melethel, and thank the Valar for what they have given us.” 

It was Linnea’s turn to smile, her turn to close her eyes. He was never shy with his compliments, and she was still growing accustomed to it - the sheer volume of the love that he had to give. She reached up, running her fingers through the hair that hung over his shoulder; dark silk, as dark as the night sky, and just as velvety soft. 

“I thank them every moment,” she said softly. “For you are just as beautiful. In body and spirit alike.”

He leaned down for a kiss then. It was a soft kiss, and it did not last for long, but it was one of the most tender that she could remember ever sharing. It did not push the grief back - he knew better than that. Instead, love sat side by side with sorrow, much as he had sat next to her on the floor in her rooms. 

When their lips parted, he stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “Come,” he murmured. “There is food if you are hungry. And then we shall have our tea, and then I will hold you for as long as you may need me to.”

She wasn’t sure about the food part. But as she turned towards the dining room, Ereinion’s hand moving to the small of her back, she could smell vegetable stew, and it did smell good. And perhaps she could be tempted into eating.      

Linnea had found the cups several weeks ago, in a district full of potters and glassblowers. She had wanted something special for their evening tea, something that spoke to the shared time just as much as the tea itself did. And they had been beautiful, sitting on the shelf in the cool, quiet workshop.

The color had drained from Ereinion’s face when he had seen them.  

He hadn’t said anything to explain, simply complimenting her on the choice. But his reaction had stuck in her mind, and as they sat together by the fire after eating, waiting for the tea to cool enough to drink, she finally decided to ask. 

“What was it about these that shocked you so?”

Ereinion didn’t reply right away, turning the cup back and forth in his hands and watching it move. The porcelain was painted white, with just a hint of grey, calling forth the bark of the Great Tree. And to further the likeness, there were golden leaves painted on top of the white, subtle and faint brushstrokes lending themselves to the feeling that the leaves were slowly drifting down from the top of the cup to the bottom.

She waited, letting him decide whether to tell her. Part of her still felt as fragile as the porcelain she held, but at the same time, having her belly full was helping anchor her to the here and now as opposed to being drawn into her memories. As was the peace of Ereinion’s rooms; the lanterns that hung from the ceiling were lit, but they gave a gentle, warm light, casting a softness over everything.  

Finally he raised his head, meeting her eyes.

“I have told you that the rings grant foresight,” he murmured. “But what I did not share with you - out of fear, perhaps, that it would be too much for you - was the vision I was given when first we met.”

Linnea nodded. He had indeed shared it with her that he had had glimpses of what had come to pass at Eregion: the mountain crumbling, the Glanduin running dry. It grieved him, she knew, that he had not understood what he had seen - but how could he have? What warning could he have drawn from such things?    

“It was that night, at your fire,” he said. “You offered me some of the tea. I smelled it, and suddenly I was seeing the future.” He paused. “Our future. We were here, in these rooms. It was winter. I was at my desk; you lay by the fire. It was clearer than any sight I have had from the ring, before or since. And when you called me, I came to you, and our tea was in these very cups.” 

She couldn’t help but smile, picturing it. It sounded peaceful, and more - it sounded like what he needed. An island of calm, in the storms that they knew were coming.

But something he had said made her curious. The chairs that circled the hearth were comfortable, certainly, but they were chairs, not chaises of any sort where one could recline.     

“I lay by the fire?”

His eyes dropped back to the cup, and he - his face - was he blushing?

“I had it made for you,” he said, speaking to the tea. “I felt that when I saw it. A lounging chair, so that you could relax with ease. While you - you - while you carried our child.” 

Our child.

“I was with child? In what you saw?”

He nodded, still not looking at her. “I do not know how far ahead it lies along the path of our future,” he murmured. ��Nor even if such a vision can be trusted. But it was so clear to me, melethel  - I could feel it. I touched you and I could feel our child reaching out for me.”

Her eyes burned hot, prickling with fresh tears. She had thought of it, yes - and they had spoken of it, enough to know that both of them desired it - but to know that he had seen it, felt it, almost made her envious.   

“I will carry our children gladly,” she whispered. “Whenever that time may come for us. Although I think - “ 

Linnea swallowed past the lump in her throat. The thought of Eressie’s son was fresh in her mind, with this talk - the son that was barely a dozen years old, that would never know more of his father. Haste was not something their people engaged in; the hand of time crawled so slowly for them. Under normal circumstances, she and Ereinion might wait a century or more to begin their time of children. Her parents had done so. 

But these were not normal circumstances. Their love was not a normal love. 

War would come. They would both need their strength, in hröa and fëa alike. The enemy was biding his time, building his strongholds and increasing his armies. If they were going to have children, perhaps soon was the time.

“I think - “

It was no strange matter that her children would not know their grandparents. Many did not. Her own grandparents, all of them, had perished in the Wars of Beleriand. She had no memories of them; they had been long gone by the time she had been born. They had been weavers too, all four of them, and she often wondered what she might have learned from Lhénes’ mother Lhéniel or Taucion’s father Tauben. 

Lhénes would never show a grandchild how to warp a loom. Taucion would never weave a blanket for a young one.

“I - “

She didn’t feel the tears overflowing and dripping down her face. Not until Ereinion’s hands closed around hers, gently taking the half-full cup of tea from her and setting it to the side. 

He was kneeling on the floor before her, and once he had moved the tea, he gathered her into his arms, pulling her head to rest on his shoulder. And then more - he slid his arms around her back and under her legs and rose, lifting her with him. She raised her head, her cheeks still streaked with tears, and saw the sorrow she felt reflected in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply carried her across the room, stepping around the furnishings. He was moving towards the sleeping alcove, and when he reached it, he laid her down on the bed, on top of the covers that had been neatly set in place.

She moved over, and Ereinion joined her, laying down beside her, still in his nightrobe. He was propped up against the pillows and so was she; it was a position where they could see each other easily, and the newness of everything offered another of those momentary distractions from grief.         

The blankets were soft. That was the first thing. They were good wool, light - the Eldar were not vulnerable to the cold - and woven in a warm blend of gold and brown. As her fingers touched the cloth, she could feel faint charms in the threads; whoever had woven the blankets had been strong in the art, and she could sense blessings for peaceful rest and pleasant dreams. 

The same had been laid on the ivory satin that covered the pillows she was leaning against. Ereinion’s dark hair spilled over them; his eyes were riveted on her face, and she could feel the warmth of his body as they lay next to each other. He was such a perfect example of their people: tall and sturdy even for a Noldor, broad and strong, and beautiful.

And yet, when he gathered her up against him, all that strength was held in reserve. While she could feel the muscles of his body, his hands were gentle, and his embrace was infinitely tender. He turned onto his back, positioning her at his side, and she pillowed her head in the space between his chest and his shoulder with her cheek against the satin of his nightrobe. 

“Are you comfortable, melethel?”

It almost tickled, the rumble of his voice beneath her face, and it made Linnea smile even through the tempest of emotion that was swirling in her. “Very,” she whispered. “Thank you.” 

He hummed softly in acknowledgment. “I had hoped you would find the bed to your liking,” he murmured. “And that you would enjoy sleeping here often.”

This was something she had been curious about. Her parents had shared a room, but she didn’t know if the Noldor did things differently. She hadn’t minded having her own rooms thus far, especially as she’d been settling in to court, but she’d wondered about what would happen after the wedding. 

“I think I would, if that is something you would want,” she said softly. “I was not sure what the customs would be, if we would continue as we have been or if you would want me here…”

He chuckled, and shifted their positions again so that they could look at each other. “I will always want you here with me,” he said. “I thought to give you a space of your own that you could use for hosting, as you have done. But yes, beloved…if you will it so, I would have you come to me at night. Even when we do not lie together, I would have you share my bed and greet the dawn with me.”    

She reached up, caressing his cheek. “I would like that,” she said again. “And I - “

She paused. The other question she had been so curious about hovered on her tongue, prompted by his words, but it made her cheeks heat up even at the thought of asking. He was new to this too; would he even have an answer? 

He noticed.

“What makes you blush so?” he murmured. 

Linnea took a deep breath, pushing the embarrassment down. This was her betrothed; her soulmate. He would be her husband in only a few more days. There was no need for such between them; he was the person she could speak to about it.

“I was not sure about that either,” she said softly. “About - how often we would lie together. I did not know what the Noldor do, or even the Sindar, really, and there is no one to ask, and I did not want to disappoint you if - or seem too eager if - “

Ereinion laughed.

But it was not a malicious laugh; he was not laughing at her. It was a warm, gentle laugh, and as he did, he brought his hand up to cup her face and bring their foreheads together. Her eyes closed and she felt his laughter fade, felt the soft brush of his lips against hers.

“I have wondered the same,” he whispered. “Truly. You are not alone in your uncertainty. In my youth, I was taught that such desires were tied to the time of children, and that while the union of love brought great joy and delight, the wish for it would fade once that time had passed.”

She nodded. “I was taught the same,” she said. “But - “

No shyness, she reminded herself. Not with him.

“ - but I want you,” she finished, all in a rush. “And I was never told that it would be like that. I did not know if it was me, or you, or something else. I wondered if it is different for us because of how we met, how we knew so quickly.”

She felt him move, and opened her eyes. He had scooted back slightly so that he could meet her gaze again.

“I think it very likely,” he murmured. “For I desire you as well, melethel. Greatly. This you know. And I too wondered at it, how it was so different from what I had thought to expect - even had I wed when I was young.” 

She smiled with relief, knowing that the same thoughts had been in his mind. And the feeling made her bold, bold enough to reach for him and bring their lips together, pouring her desire into the kiss so that he would have absolutely no doubt that she spoke true. He had said she knew, and she did - and he deserved the same. 

Ereinion let out a soft moan as she did it, and his arm slid to her waist to draw her body against him. It was another one of those moments where her skin did not feel like it could contain everything inside - desire, grief, love, sorrow - and it pushed her to be even more daring, to slide her leg up and over his waist in a rustle of silk and satin so that they could be even closer.     

The kiss deepened and she let herself fall into it; she let the touch of his lips and the taste of him - spices from their dinner, herbs from the tea - drive everything else away. And it was her turn to moan as his leg slid in between hers, as the thick, rock-solid muscles of his thigh pressed against her core through her nightgown and his arm tightened around her waist. 

At the sound, he tore his mouth from hers, breathing raggedly - but he also didn’t move away.  

“Linnea,” he said raggedly. “I would not - we do not need to rush, we can wait for anything more. Our wedding is a fortnight away.”  

She took a deep breath. Her breasts pushed against his chest as she did; they were so close, so close. What he said was true; they could stop. But his kisses, his hands, were another of those anchors to the here and now, and she did not want to stop.    

They would wait for their wedding night for their ultimate union, yes, but they could explore one another before that. Coming to it all new was certainly special, but this was a different kind of special - the special of knowing at least something of how to give pleasure, the nervousness that it would not be enjoyable for the other banished.

If that was what he wanted too.

“It is,” she whispered, acknowledging what he had said. “But you were right, beloved. You are as much my husband now as you will be after we lie together. And tonight I wish to feel my husband’s touch - if he is willing.”  

He was.

Her words broke any resolve he had mustered up to pull back, to make his offer. His mouth crashed back onto hers and she was rolling onto her back, Ereinion rising over her and propping himself on his arms so that his weight did not crush her. Her eyes were closed, but she felt his hair fall over his shoulders, silkily brushing against her face and neck. 

And then he stopped. His weight shifted again.

Linnea opened her eyes, looking up at him. He was gazing at her with such love that her heart felt that it would burst, and yes, there was still grief - but for the first time, as she lay there, it was possible to see that all of this had to happen this way. They were soulmates, fated to be, but perhaps all that had come before had been necessary for them to meet at the right time, under the right circumstances.            

“When you wish to stop, you have only to say the word,” he whispered. “And you must speak it if I hurt you, or if there is anything - “

She pressed her fingers to his lips. 

“I will wait to have all of you till our wedding night,” she murmured. “But I think there is much we can do to please each other apart from that, is there not?”

Ereinion smiled, and kissed her fingers.

“Let us find out.”

With that, he dropped his head, and began leaving a trail of kisses that started below her ear and made its way down her neck, right to the edge of her nightrobe. He was leisurely, moving slowly, letting his lips linger and dance on the skin that he was kissing, and every so often his teeth would delicately nip. It was delicious and maddening at the same time, and Linnea writhed - and as she did, her core rocked against the thigh that was still between her legs, which was its own form of maddening.

Ereinion dropped a last kiss on her collarbone and then lifted back up. He balanced himself on one arm, and the fingers of his free hand followed the path his lips had just taken, skating slowly down her neck. 

And his fingers stopped at the edge of her robe, his eyes seeking permission, and she nodded. 

He sat up, taking her hand and gently tugging so that she did the same. And once she was up, his hands moved to the belt of her robe, even as his eyes remained fixed on hers. She nodded again as he found the knot, and with that consent given, he undid the belt and smoothed the robe off her shoulders.  

The neck of her nightgown was gathered at the center of her chest with a ribbon. The small bow was the next object of his attention; he untied that as well, loosening the neck so that it slid down off her shoulders and caught on the swells of her breasts. 

He hadn't really revealed anything yet. But she felt more exposed, as his eyes dragged down from her neck to her breasts, than she ever had in her life. Heat throbbed in her belly, between her legs, craving for more of his touch - and also craving to touch him. 

His lead was a good one to follow. Linnea started with the belt of his robe, making sure to receive his nod before untying it. When it was off, she found that in addition to the beautiful shirt, he was also wearing a pair of loose silk pants of the same pale gold, soft and comfortable against his skin.

And just like him, she hadn't revealed much, but she still traced the outlines of his body with her eyes.

Hers.

The lanterns hanging from the ceiling were dim, casting the room in shadow and mystery, but they were still bright enough to make the pearl clasp at Erenion's throat sparkle. She fixed on that, unbuttoning it, and then sliding her hands underneath the edge of his shirt to lift it off him. 

And then there was much, much more to look at: a smooth, chiseled chest and arms and shoulders and stomach, the trained warrior so apparent in the strength and power of him.

She tossed the shirt away and barely noticed where it landed. 

The gold silk pants were tied at his waist, and they beckoned temptingly. But there was plenty for her to explore now, and she was not about to delay getting started. 

Ereinion sucked in a breath as she placed her hand on his chest and pushed, toppling him over onto his back, and she heard his heart speed up as she followed him and straddled his waist. His hands went to her hips, eyes hooded and dark, and she tried not to think too much about what she could feel pressing between her legs - later for that, later. 

Instead, she focused on his chest, spreading her hands over the expanse of flawless skin. Slowly and carefully, Linnea traced the outlines of each muscle, exploring the map and the texture of him, and smiling as he fought for air beneath her fingertips. His hold on her hips tightened but he didn’t say a word; he just let her caress him, like he was learning too, learning what it felt like to be touched with love. 

But he wasn’t going to be passive forever.

He lifted further up once she brushed over the lower part of his stomach, just above his waist, and his arms wrapped firmly around her. She slid hers around his neck and pressed herself tight against him as he claimed her mouth with his; she tangled her fingers into his long, dark hair even as she felt him brush her hair away from her neck. And then he was abandoning her lips to kiss his way down her throat again, making her whimper softly.

A warm, strong hand slid down her side, and nestled itself against the underside of her breast.

He pushed up, plumping the flesh above her nightgown, and his lips feathered over that too. His hand felt like it was aflame, and part of her wondered that it did not burn the cloth, but that was far less interesting than what it was doing - gently squeezing and kneading, thumb brushing over the center of the fabric covering her to find and tease her nipple into a stiff, aching peak.

As good as it felt, she wanted more. Her nightgown was an unacceptable barrier and somehow he knew, whether it was her continued soft whines or the rocking restlessness of her hips; he abandoned his efforts and yanked the edge of her nightgown down, baring her breast to his eyes, and once again she could hear and feel his heart hammering.

“Nan i ‘aear ar in elin,” he muttered, a beautiful epithet that scorched her skin. “Rîn vuin.”

“Aran vui - oh, Ereinion…”

Beloved King, she had meant to say in reply, but his lips had closed around her nipple and his mouth suckled her, hot and damp, soothing the ache and at the same time making it worse. One hand still held her breast for his attention; the other pressed on her back, keeping her close to him. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped her head to rest against his, lost in sensation, waves of pleasure rippling from where his mouth touched her out to the very tips of her fingers and toes.    

He switched hands, ministering to her other breast in the same fashion. Her nightgown dropped down, a band of bunched fabric between waist and thigh that barely covered anything, and had he stopped long enough to tear it completely off of her she would have helped him to do it. Her arms held him loosely, her hands still tangled in his hair, and she could have let him continue for the entirety of the night just like this and been happy for it. 

But she felt that burning hot hand land on the bare skin of her thigh, just above her knee, and his mouth and tongue stopped their movements. He released her breast and raised his eyes to her, lips still hovering just above her tender nipple, and breathed against her skin.

“May I?”

She nodded. And she turned her head to watch. 

Ereinion was doing the same, pillowing his head on her bare breast. The edge of her nightgown lay across her thigh, and she watched as his hand slid upward and his fingertips slipped beneath the hem, and his thumb captured it. As his hand continued to move, the fabric moved with it, pooling in the crease of her hips. Linnea shuddered at the sight and the feel of his hand there, where none save her own had been before, feeling her core swell and slicken even more than it already was. She wanted his hand higher, more, she wanted his fingers dragging through her and releasing the coil of pleasure that he’d already wound up so tight. 

There was one more barrier, short silk drawers beneath the nightgown. But they were loose, and presented no obstruction.

“Ereinion…”

The softest of exploring caresses, as he finally reached the apex of her thighs. She went rigid with sensation at the delicate trace of his fingertips over the damp, quivering, burning flesh, so gentle and yet almost overwhelming.

“Avo dharo,” she moaned, barely conscious of speaking. “Please - do not stop, please, meleth nín…”

“Linnea,” he whispered. His other hand moved, wrapping around her waist, holding her close. “Linnea.”

She clutched his shoulders as he continued, his touch growing the tiniest bit firmer as he learned the shape of her. She felt his hot breath on her skin, his lips caressing the side of her breast, as he worked to coax the pleasure higher and higher. Any shyness was a distant memory; her tongue was unbound, offering praise when his touch found the right places, the right patterns. A finger slid into her and she cried out at the new sensation, clenching around it, her hips rocking helplessly against his palm where it cupped her. Everything was so new, so new, and there was the added thrill of not knowing what he would do next, how he would touch or where he would press, and -

She shattered.

Nothing at all like how she had explored her own body, as different as night to day. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think; the only thing in the entire world was the release, that wound-up coil of pleasure finally letting go. Cries escaped her parted lips somehow, even though all of the air had left her lungs; soft moans of his name, and wordless pleas, entreaties for more, for yes, for don't stop. 

As she came back to herself, she was aware of her nails digging into his back; her forehead, slick with sweat, pressed into the side of his neck. The hand on her waist moved up, smoothing soothingly over her back, as the hand between her legs gently eased away. 

“Are you well?”

Was she well? Could he not tell? But although Ereinion's voice was the softest whisper, he sounded nervous. And although she was still trembling and unsure if she could speak, she lifted her head and met his eyes, and managed a smile, and that seemed to be enough to reassure him. He leaned in for a kiss - a slow, gentle, tender kiss, perfect for the moment of winding down, resting, pausing before the next thing happened. 

That next thing, she vowed, was going to be her making him feel just as good. 

“Lie down,” she murmured, once their lips had parted. “It is my turn.”

“Melethel, you do not - “

Have to, she was sure he was about to say, and no, she did not, but she wanted to. And more, she did not wish to spend even a moment explaining that to him; there was a far, far better way to let him know it.

So instead of speaking, she stopped him by sliding her hand between them and caressing between his legs.

He collapsed back onto the bed as if all of his bones had suddenly vanished. His fingers dug into the blankets, clenching in a white-knuckled grip. And when she reached for the tie on his pants, he helped, lifting his hips so that she could slide them down without having to move off of him. And she had seen an unclothed man before - but this was different, it was her unclothed man, and as his sex slipped free the only thing she could think was beautiful. Beautiful.

Linnea didn’t hesitate for a moment. She wrapped her hand around him; his sturdiness was reflected here too. He was long and thick and perfect, velvety soft and diamond hard, hers hers hers. She let her fingers wander, exploring slowly and carefully and gently, taking her turn to learn his shape and his texture. He was trembling, the muscles of hands and arms as tight as a drawn bowstring, the iron control that had formed over hundreds of years shattering in mere seconds. A power that she had never known existed, and it was hers and only hers; she would be the only one who would ever do this for him, to him. 

“Linnea.” A string of broken curses followed her name, and it made her heart swell with both pride and relief. “Gin iallon - I - “ 

He jerked, and a moment later, his seed spilled hot over her hand. A high, soft moan left his lips at the same time as he gasped; more broken words, nonsense, his eyes slammed shut and teeth clenched tight.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight. If she had thought he was beautiful before, he was infinitely more so now, caught in the throes of pleasure that she had given him. She slowed her hand and drew it away as his body stilled; she had been sensitive after she had reached her peak, even the lightest touch almost too much, and she thought it likely that the same would be so for him.

He had pleasured her. She had pleasured him. It was enough - for now.

There was a washbasin off to the side of the bed, with a full pitcher of water at the ready. Linnea rose for just long enough to clean her hands and dry them, and to pull her nightgown back up around her shoulders. Ereinion was still lying motionless when she returned to him, although he stirred when she curled up against his side and pillowed her head back on his chest. His arm went around her, and she felt his lips brush her hair.

“Two thousand years,” he murmured. “And I could not have imagined this.”

“How could you have?” she whispered. “How could anyone, save by experiencing it? I cannot see someone trying to write it down…”

“Rúmil tried,” he said dryly. “Although the verse left something to be desired.”

“Rúmil?” Linnea sat up, looking at him in confusion. “The poet?”

“Indeed.” Ereinion gave her a small, self-deprecating smile, reaching down and pulling his pants back up to his hips. “Melethel, I wanted to be perfect for you. I feared I would hurt you out of ignorance, or at the least, that I would fail to give you pleasure. I thought to perhaps gain some small amount of knowledge before our wedding. And Rúmil was said to have written some very…intimate…passages.” He chuckled. “Yet as you say, it is not possible to describe in words.”

He’d tried to research. 

She laid back down on his chest, feeling his arms come back around her. “It was perfect,” she whispered. “It was you. You required no guidance, meleth nín, not even from a poet as brilliant as Rúmil. Your touch was all I needed.”

He kissed her forehead. “This was not my intent when I asked you to stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “But I am grateful for it. Both for learning something of you, that our wedding night will be naught but joy - and also for what you have given me, shared with me.” 

He was right. This night had been a gift from each of them to the other, and she wondered how many other couples had done the same before their wedding. It simply wasn’t talked about; it was too sacred, too special to discuss in any sort of casual environment. She knew that Men and Dwarves did so, even made light of it - she had heard some of the crude jests when merchants had come to trade. Perhaps their ways suited their peoples, but she could think of nothing so beautiful as what had just happened between herself and Ereinion. 

And in that beauty was also peace. Her spirit was content, the grief soothed by his nearness. It was easier to remember that her parents were not gone forever, that they would rest in the Halls of Mandos and then be reborn to live in the Blessed Lands. She would see them again; this was a parting, but not an ending.

“And you, my love,” she said softly. “Just as much have you given me. And I am grateful to know I returned your gift in kind.”   

He chuckled again, and he shifted, using his feet to push at the blankets and draw them up over them both. She approved; pleasure had left her languid, and between that and the warmth of him, sleep tugged at her. 

“In kind,” he said wryly. “My love, you wondered how often we would lie together. Knowing that I can give this pleasure to you, and how the touch of your hands feels for me…I fear you will grow very weary of my desires in that respect.”

She echoed his laugh, even as she settled herself against him and closed her eyes. 

“We shall see who grows weary of the other’s desires first, aran vuin,” she murmured. “You may regret taking a wife who demands you remain in bed so often.”

“Nidhinc bestad meneg lui bo i chaust hen,” he said, and she could hear his smile. “And that will just be a start.”

Continue to Part 10

A/N on the Sindarin, all credit to RealElvish.net:

Nidhinc bestad meneg lui bo i chaust hen: We shall wed a thousand times on this bed.

Aran vuin: Beloved king

Rin vuin: Beloved queen

Avo dharo: Don’t stop

Gin iallon: I beg you

Nan i ‘aear ar in elin: By the sea and the stars

[reverie-starlight]

jk I watched one of my favourite keigo edits on insta and I got inspired. happy birthday 2 me 🫶🏻 (the main fic I was working on is still coming, but idk when exactly 🥹)

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. pure birthday fluff with tiny little minuscule amounts of angst sprinkled in bc. well. it’s a birthday. I’m sick for my 20th, so reader is too 😔

you wake up to the sound of squeaky bedroom door hinges and a quiet but still enthusiastic rendition of happy birthday.

barely awake but just alert enough to realize what’s going on, you smile and turn over on your side to face keigo. he walks in slowly with a large bag around his wrist and a cupcake with slightly squished frosting in his palms.

he sits on his designated side of the bed (the one closer to the door since he insists on being your hero at all hours of the day) and waits for you to sit up against the headboard before sticking a candle into the dessert and lighting it for you.

“make a wish, baby,” he says. with how dark the room still is in the early morning, his face is lit up from the soft glow of the flame. warmth settles in your stomach as you watch the flickering reflection in his eyes and you can only think of one thing worth wishing for.

please let this last forever. don’t let me mess it up.

you blow out the candle and he cheers, moving to sit right next to you against the headboard. you lean your head on his shoulder and he happily feeds you pieces of cupcake, feathers working overtime trying to catch all of the crumbs before they reach the bed.

when you finish chewing a piece, he says, “how are you feeling?”

you shrug. “okay today, I think. better than yesterday, for sure- I feel like I can breathe again.”

you don’t miss how he winces at your voice, definitely less congested than the last few days, but sounding even more rough from lack of use overnight. you try to clear your throat, but it turns into a coughing fit. “drink some water, angel, don’t strain yourself.”

the stream of water soothes the itch and you sigh in relief. keigo, not phased one bit by your sickness, kisses your cheek, your nose, and then your lips. “I’m sorry you’re sick on your birthday, sweet girl.”

you shrug and try to play off how his nicknames are affecting you so early in the morning. “it’s okay, keigo, it could be a lot worse. a cold on my birthday isn’t the end of the world.”

his eyes soften. “yeah, but I know you were feeling more hopeful about things this year… it’s not often you get like that about your birthday, so I just wish the universe was on the same wavelength as us about that.”

you look down at your lap and pick at a loose string on the comforter. he must see your lips wobbling, because he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

it’s quiet for a second, but soon enough you’re sniffling in his arms and he knows it’s not your cold acting up.

“it’s okay, sweetheart, let it out.”

he understands birthdays are hard for you. he’s never pried into it, but he has his suspicions.

he could push, but he knows that your issues with your own birthday are far too deep-rooted to unpack in one morning before work. he’ll save it for a later date. right now all he wants is to see you smile again, so he’ll have to distract you from your thoughts.

“baby, you deserve the whole world. you know that, right?”

you shake your head. “I don’t, though. I don’t do anything deserving of what I’ve gotten so far… I don’t work hard enough, I don’t always make the best decisions for myself, I guess I’m a good person, but I could do so much better… I’m just so average. I barely even deserve-“

you end your rant with a half-hearted gesture in no particular direction, but he gets the idea and he frowns in concern.

“me? you don’t think you deserve…me?”

guilt keeps you from meeting his gaze again and he sighs.

his angel, his baby, the love of his life. the one. he just wants to take it all away.

you take things to heart too easily sometimes, so this moment might just be things you’ve let bubble up more recently… but his instinct and familiarity both tell him that these aren’t new feelings.

“sweet girl, I think it’s the other way around. I don’t think I’m very deserving of someone as incredible as you.”

you blink and finally meet his eyes again. “but…”

he doesn’t let you continue. “I would give you anything you asked for just for existing, baby. you don’t have to do a damn thing for my love.”

reaching over to grab the bag he had around his wrist earlier, he presents it to you with a wide grin and an excited glint in his eyes. “but I’ll start with this.”

you take the bag and pull out what looks like a scrapbook. the cover is decorated with foam stickers that spell out both of your names and badly cut paper hearts that look to be taken from sparkly card-stock. the book itself is made from faux-leather in your favourite colour.

your eyes travel up from the photo album to keigo, curiously. he’s happy to see a small smile forming on your face and he wipes away the last of your tears with a feather. “keigo, did you-“

he chuckles a little nervously. “I know it’s not the best work you’ve ever seen, but I wanted to make something by hand for you. I, um, I’ve never really done arts and crafts before.”

he recognizes the sound that comes out of your mouth to be the same one you make when you see a stray animal. he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but the smile on your face as you examine each page (twenty pages total, all hand decorated with printed pictures of you both documenting significant moments over the course of your relationship) makes him think the latter.

“I have other gifts for you, of course, but I know you’ve been talking about having a physical photo album instead of a digital one for a while now, so I thought I’d try it. If you don’t like it, that’s totally okay we can-“

you cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. “keigo, shut up, this is the sweetest gift I’ve ever received. there are songs associated with every picture. you’re literally so cute, where did you even get the idea for that?”

he laughs against your lips when you say that and shakes his head. “you’re joking, right? you always have a song for every occasion, how could I pass up on the opportunity?”

you press your lips against his again and he melts into it, relived that you like his first (of many) gift.

he watches you flip through it a couple more times with a smile before taking it and placing it on the nightstand. “alright, birthday girl, you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“you’re going to work?” you try to keep the disappointment out of your voice, but he hears it anyway and he’s so happy he planned for this.

“nope! I’m all yours today. I booked it off months ago, I just want you to rest up a bit more. you’re still sick, remember?”

he snickers when your hopeful smile drops at the mention of your cold. “ugh don’t remind me. but if I’m going back to sleep, you’re coming with me. you don’t have an excuse anymore and it’s my birthday, so I have some sway.”

“you always have sway, baby,” he says while getting under the covers with you.

“yeah, but I’m extra convincing today,” you argue, and he knows if he doesn’t curb the conversation right now, you’ll never fall back asleep.

“alright, alright, come here. just rest,” he tugs you down to lay on his chest and reaches under your shirt to caress your back.

“hey keigo?” you ask after a minute, voice once again riddled with sleep.

“mhm?”

“when you eventually get sick and I have to take care of you, can we add to the scrapbook some more?”

it’s a given that you would continue it together, but he doesn’t say that because he knows you’re too tired for the realization to hit you yet. so instead he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “of course, angel. that sounds great.”

you’re lulled to sleep a few minutes later to the sound of his voice whispering the sweetest of sweet nothings.

“happy birthday, baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay this is unedited bc it’s not even 7 am while I’m typing this and I don’t have time later to change anything, so I’M SORRY 😭

the other bday fic is coming I swear 🥹

[drtyelvisfantasy]

𝒪𝓃ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓅 𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓉𝒾𝓂ℯ

Pairings: Elvis Presley x female!reader

Summary: The reader who is Elvis Presley’s wife wakes up to see her husband teaching their baby son Jesse how to walk🥹

౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ

The sun peeked through the curtains of Graceland, casting a warm glow over the room. You found yourself in the presence of the King himself, Elvis Presley. Your heart fluttered as you watched him, his mesmerizing voice filling the air as he strummed his guitar effortlessly. It was a rare, intimate moment you had the privilege of witnessing.

As you stood by the doorway, you saw Elvis glance towards the crib tucked in the corner of the room. A smile crept across his face as he noticed his baby son, Jesse, starting to stir. Gently setting his guitar aside, Elvis approached the crib, his eyes filled with adoration.

"Hey there, little man," Elvis cooed, his voice soft and melodic. "Ready to show Daddy those fancy moves of yours?"

Jesse giggled in response, his chubby arms reaching out towards his father. Elvis scooped his little boy up into his arms, cradling him securely against his chest. The room seemed to come alive with the sound of their laughter, a symphony of love.

With careful steps, Elvis carried Jesse to the center of the room, creating a safe space for their adventure. He positioned Jesse's tiny feet on the wooden floor, supporting his wobbly legs with his hands.

"Alright, Jesse, it's time to show Daddy how you can walk," Elvis encouraged, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "You've got the rhythm in your blood, just like your old man."

As if on cue, the room filled with the sound of Elvis singing softly, his voice guiding Jesse's every movement. With each step, Elvis matched their strides, gently swaying from side to side, ensuring Jesse felt secure in his arms.

One hesitant step, then another. Jesse's face lit up with excitement, his eyes gleaming with determination. Elvis offered words of encouragement, his voice a gentle melody, easing any fear his son might have had.

"That's it, baby boy!" Elvis praised, his voice filled with pride. "You're doing great, just like your Mama."

Jesse's chubby legs grew stronger, his steps more assured. The room filled with joyous laughter and applause as he took his first independent steps, stumbling slightly before regaining his balance.

Elvis smiled brightly, his heart swelling with love and pride. He knew this was just the beginning of a lifetime of dances they would share together, a legacy that would continue to live on.

"You see, my little man," Elvis whispered, his voice filled with emotion, "Your Mama and I will always be here to catch you when you fall, to help you find your way. You've got a whole world waiting for you, and your old man will be by your side every step of the way."

As Jesse continued to take his first steps, the room filled with a sense of wonder and joy. The bond between father and son grew stronger with each passing moment, a testament to the love that would always guide them.

And as you watched this enchanting scene unfold before your eyes, you couldn't help but feel privileged to have witnessed such a magical moment. Your husband, The King of Rock and Roll, teaching his baby boy to walk, was a memory that would forever be etched in your heart.

[justmeinatree]

Empty As A Bottle Of Wine

Summary : niall gets home from tour. you’ve missed each other incredibly.

TW : cockwarming

Word Count : 2k

GIF : @horansqueen

you were pouring your fifth? sixth? cup of coffee as the chime on your clock went off. you looked over at the time, showing it was 4am. 

it seemed a bit ridiculous really, waiting up so late. after niall’s show last night, he jetted off to your place for his 2 week break. he would be exhausted and seeing as you’ve lost count of the amount of coffees you drank, you’re pretty tired too. but honestly, nobody would be able to sleep knowing he was finally on his way. this was by far the longest stretch away since you two met and you’re more than ready to feel his touch again.

you weren’t in an official relationship yet, both too busy flirting and lusting to make a serious move. it was both your faults really. you weren’t sure that you were ready for the incredibly grandiose life change that would come with publicly dating niall. and him, well, you weren’t quite sure why he never made the move, but you do know he had been burned bad in the past. 

long nights were spent listening to him pour his heart out about how the others never got him, had a hard time being thrusted into celebrity status, and just had difficulty adjusting to his hectic schedule. you can imagine it being difficult not knowing where in the world your boyfriend was, but isn’t that why they made cell phones anyway? communication works both ways.

as niall steps into the house, he immediately smells the fresh coffee. he chuckles to himself, thinking that you set the timer on the machine before going to sleep, so that he could have a warm drink after his long night. he drops his bags at the door, not caring about getting them much further than the entrance. he runs his hand through his hair as he rounds the corner into your kitchen. it’s fairly dimly lit, just a few candles spread out and some soft lighting, seeping in from the living room. he notices you perched on the counter, coffee mug in hand as you’re taking a sip. 

it takes him a moment, through bleary, sleep deprived eyes, to notice that you’re there, awake. “hey nialler”, you speak quietly, with a small smile on your face. he lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he makes his way over to you. he wordlessly wraps you up in his arms, tucking his face in your neck. he squeezes you tightly, breathing in your sweet scent. a mix of your honey scented shampoo, lavender body wash, plus the lingering coffee and it’s just so you. he holds you tighter, afraid that you might slip away if he lets go of you.

your arms are wrapped around his body, one hand snaking into his hair, holding him close to you. you’ve been strong the last few months, keeping yourself busy. the less you think of him, the less you can miss him. but now that he’s here, his arms wrapping your tiny frame, you realize just how terribly hard this time away from him has been. he’s your security blanket. his body wrapping yours up, his scent, his soft hair, it’s everything you didn’t know just how badly you needed.

you gently leave traces of kisses over his shoulder, giving his hair a little tug. he looks up at you, his eyes a little red, with the remnants of tears in them. 

you look at him a bit confused, running the pads of your thumbs under his eyes to collect any bits of tear drops left behind.

“what’s wrong ni ? this is a happy moment, isn’t it?” you ask quietly, pecking the tip of his nose.

he lets out a little breathy chuckle, shaking his head, “ it’s the happiest moment,” he sighs contently. “hello my beautiful girl,” he mumbles, softly pressing his lips to yours.

you return the kiss, slotting your lips with his, letting them drag together lightly. you both try to convey just how much you missed each other, his hands giving your hips a squeeze.

you both pull apart, giving his bottom lip an extra little suck as you rest your forehead against his. “seriously ni, why the teary eyes?” you ask again.

he huffs a little bit of air, his hand coming up to cup your jaw as his thumb strokes your cheek. “i think it’s all just crashing hard. didn’t realize how much i missed ya, petal. how much this feels more like home than any of my actual houses”, he chuckles. “i’m so sorry i was gone so long, i promise it’ll never be like that again,” he mumbles, eyes locking with yours.

you can feel how much power he’s trying to put behind those words. how much he wishes it were true. but you both knew that neither of you had control over his schedule.

your hands cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing his cheeks as you give him a small smile. your hands trail down his neck, over his shoulders and down his arms. you give his hands a squeeze as you lock eyes with him again. “ni, don’t make promises you can’t keep. this was honestly harder than i thought it was gonna be, and i really don’t wanna bring my hopes up,” you murmur. “and fuck, also, please don’t ever apologize for doing what you love,” you add with a little more vigour. 

you decided long ago that no matter what would happen with niall, you would never get in the way of him doing what he loves. 

he pulls you into him, squeezing you tightly again, a lump forming in his throat. he realizes in that moment, that he had been so focused on not letting this become something that could potentially break his heart, that he had been breaking it himself. he knew what kind of girl you were, he knew that you were exponentially different than the others, and hearing you say those words broke him. 

“i’m keeping my promise,” he whispers into your neck. “i’ll fly you around the world if i have to, we are never going 3 months without seeing each other again. that’s a fucking promise, petal.”

he crashes his lips onto yours, his hand gripping the back of your head to keep you as close as possible. 

this kiss felt different. you knew it in your heart, there was no going back. a silent agreement that this was it. you were both going to let this happen, you simply couldn’t stop it anymore. 

he grips you under your legs, hoisting you up into his arms, carrying you upstairs. he nibbled on your neck the entire way, peaking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t bumping into anything. 

he laid you down on the bed, getting on top of you, kissing you deeply. your hands ran down his back, slipped under his shirt and rubbed over his smooth skin. you felt shivers trailing behind your fingers, making you smile softly into the kiss. 

he breaks away from your lips, rolling onto his side next to you, pulling you into him, his fingers scratching lightly at your scalp, face buried into your hair. you grip his hip, pulling him infinitely closer to you, making him chuckle lightly, “the sun’s coming up love, and as much as i want this, m’fucking exhausted. and m’sure you are too. how about a little nap now and later i’ll wake ya up with my mouth on you?”

you whimper, throwing your leg over his waist, digging your heel into his ass, needing him so badly. needing the closeness and the intimacy you’ve been so intensely craving over the last few months.

he chuckles again, this time a little more breathily, his cock twitching at being pressed up against your heat for the first time in so long. “not tired darling?” he hums.

“m’exhausted,” you mumble. “but i need to feel you close ni.”

he hums, nodding his head, understanding how you feel. tonight is so so different for both of you. you can feel the shift of lusty flirting and needy sex to the strong passionate need you both have for each other. the kind of love where all your insecurities don’t matter because you have each other.

he taps your arm lightly, sitting himself up in bed, “got an idea pet,” he smiles, taking all of his clothes off and getting under the blankets. “join me?” 

you look at him questioningly, shimmying your clothes off. you weren’t about to say no, but still, “thought you were too tired?”

“m’not fuckin ya yet,” he chuckles. “but i want to feel close too. are ya wet petal?” he hums against your ear as you slip under the blankets as well. 

you whimper again, closing your eyes. you absolutely loved when he called you petal. he smiles knowingly, his mouth and fingers lightly trailing over your skin. from your jaw to your neck, down your shoulders and in the valley of your breasts. he pauses his mission for a moment, giving some attention to your left nipple while his fingers work at your right one. he sucks gently, leaving little nips, watching your head fall back, letting out a breathy moan, “missed your mouth on me.” 

you grip his hair, tugging a bit at the roots, making a mental note to ask him to keep growing it a tiny bit. the thickness of his locks with the current swoopy look was enough to get you going. 

he smirked up at you, pulling away from your chest. he kisses you again, nibbling on your bottom lip, “hmm love kissing you. it’s fucking intoxicating.”

you moan against his mouth as his fingers start gently swiping over your slit. he’s not using any pressure, letting his fingers slowly swirl around your opening, collecting your wetness.

“missed me love?” he hums, making you nod your head. “think you’re wet enough” he adds, pulling his fingers away. you whine at the loss, until he grips your thigh, pulling you flush to him. 

you’re both facing each other, laying on your sides, your leg thrown over his waist, his semi hard cock pressing against you.

he kisses you again, having missed the feel of your lips so badly. he reaches around you to grip his cock, pressing the head against you, making you moan into his mouth, your hips bucking instinctively to feel more of him. 

he slowly bottoms out, his cock fully settled inside you. your head is spinning at the feel of him. you had used some toys while he was away, but nothing compares to the warm feeling of real flesh inside you. 

you’re seeing stars, gripping onto him tightly as he grunts out, “fuck, petal, i can feel you throbbing.” 

you breathe heavily, digging your face into his neck, so overwhelmed with emotion that you start trembling lightly. 

niall rubs your back soothingly, his cock buried deep inside you, staying completely still, murmuring in your ear, “s’just me love. m’right here with you - fuck, you’re so warm,” he breathes out. “does it feel good pet? you’re trembling.”

you breathe out a whiny moan into his neck. “christ niall, i can’t stop squeezing around you. s’so so good. so close to you ni, s’fucking good” you babble, your head a little fuzzy.

“i feel you love,” he hums. “m’not going anywhere. can sleep like this, yeah ? stay nice and close.”

you nod, loving being so full. full of him. he’s here, he’s back, and you’re not sure what the next step is, but you know you’re taking it with him and that’s good enough. 

you slowly drift off to sleep, niall humming a soft tune, so incredibly excited to spend the next couple weeks with each other.

Part 2

……

Masterlist

[angelasscribbles]

Crush: A Bad Romance One-Shot

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Liam with tiny hints of Liam x Max

Rating: Fluffy

Warnings for this chapter:  None

Word Count: 3,274 

Thanks to @kyra75 for this ask for the "secret admirer" prompt for the @choicesprompts 2024 Flufftober event. This is my late submission.

A/N: This is a prequel because we already know what happens during Bad Romance so it doesn't fit there. I could have placed it after but I would have had to either bring in a new person which I didn't want to do or go the predictable route of it turning out to be the person's partner all along. Instead, I decided to place it before the events of Bad Romance, and here's why: I've written next to nothing about Riley's first few months in Cordonia but Bad Romance does state that Liam had to work his butt off to pry Riley's attention away from Max during that time. In fact, Liam mentions it often because he's still salty about it. Max mentions it too because he did eventually get dumped for Liam. I thought this was a perfect place to show some of that. I know it's a little angsty, but I hope it's got enough fluff to satisfy the requirement.

To reiterate: This takes place in the first month of Riley being in Cordonia, while she is sleeping with Max, Liam is trying to change that and Drake is trying to pretend he doesn't like her like that.

My other stuff: Master List.

For the life of me, I cannot remember if someone sent me this image or if I stumbled across it myself. It's been in my save folder for awhile. I'd like to give proper credit, so if you sent it to me, speak up!

Riley entered her room and stopped to smell the roses. The two dozen red roses to be exact. They had been delivered to her room earlier. She closed her eyes as the sweet floral scent washed over her.

The smell was sublime.

She opened her eyes to admire the blood red petals. Her fingers gently stroked a lush bloom, her expression contemplative as her mind whirled.

She turned her head to observe the man who had entered the room with her. “You’re sure they’re not from you?”

“Yes, Riley, I’m sure,” Max admittedly a little reluctantly.

“Any ideas who they might be from?”

He shrugged dismissively. “Could be anyone, really. You have many admirers at court. I’m not surprised one of them decided to shoot his shot.” Hana’s face flashed before his eyes. “Or hers.”

She fluttered her lashes at him. “Does that bother you?”

Max shook his head, and then gave her that boyish grin that always made her heart flutter. “How can I blame them? You’re the total package, babe.”

“You sweet talker.” Riley grinned at him as she strode across the room to pinch his cheeks.

Despite the fact that they were sleeping together, the simple sign of affection from her caused heat to flame across his face. He studied the toe of his shoe as he told her, “You deserve flowers. I should have thought to send you some.”

“Hey,” she put a finger under his chin and lifted his head. “The roses are lovely, but you do sweet things for me all the time. I’m very happy with our little…. Arrangement.”

His face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips softly across his. “We’re staying in tonight, right?”

They were in between royal events for the next week and while eating in the main dining hall was always an option, Max had suggested room service and a movie marathon in her room instead.

Riley had agreed because frankly, she was sick of Madeleine’s shit. Eating with all the bitchy divas of the nobility was not her idea of fun. Drake avoided her like the plague ever since their encounter on the plane ride over, and Liam rarely made appearances in the public dining hall in between official royal events.

Not that she was interested in him. Their night in New York aside, she knew he would never choose a waitress to be queen. He couldn’t. So, she had found other diversions.

She could certainly do a lot worse than Maxwell Beaumont.

“Right,” Max agreed, as a shiver ran down his spine at her touch. “I had the kitchen make your favorite dinner.”

“See?” she purred. “That’s what I mean about how thoughtful you are.”

“Let’s meet back here at dinnertime, okay?” He stepped away from her and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You’ll see.” He gave her a mischievous grin as he exited the room.

“Okay then.” With a furrowed brow, she returned her attention to the roses. After a brief moment of consideration, her decision was made.

She might not know why Max was acting weird all of a sudden, but she had enough time before dinner to do a little investigation into her secret admirer.

****

“I’m coming!” Drake yelled in irritation.

Who the fuck was knocking on his door in the middle of the afternoon on his day off?

“Can’t get any peace and quiet ever.” He muttered under his breath as he yanked the door open. “What?”

His eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath. “Riley! What are you doing here?” His eyes darted frantically up and down the hallway. This girl was a scandal waiting to happen.

“Was it you?”

“Was what me?”

“The flowers. Were they from you?” Her gaze bore into him with laser intensity.

His forehead creased as he tried to make sense of the conversation. “Flowers?”

Her eyes scanned his face, then she shook her head. “Of course not.”

His brain finally caught up. “Someone sent you flowers?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Weren’t they from your boyfriend?”

Was that a note of bitterness she detected? She smiled from ear to ear as her body swayed slightly back and forth. “What boyfriend would that be?”

His face fixed in a scowl, he grunted, “Max.”

She bit into her lower lip as she leaned forward and ran a hand up his arm. “Are you jealous of Max?”

His arms crossed defensively over his chest as he took a step back. “No!”

“Sure, you’re not. But someone sent me two dozen roses, and it wasn’t Max. Any ideas who it could have been?”

Drake blew out a resigned sigh. Of fucking course he knew who it was. Who else would it be? But he wasn’t telling her that.

While he wasn’t going to stand in Liam’s way, he sure as hell wasn’t going to help him. Instead, he shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance as he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Okay. Bye then.” She spun on her heel and started back down the hallway.

“Riley, wait!” He stumbled out the door into the hallway, ready to sprint after her.

She stopped and turned back with arched eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I…” All the reasons he should not and could not pursue this woman poured through his mind as he stood frozen in the middle of the corridor.

“Well?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Hm. Well, if it’s ever something, you know where my room is.” She wiggled her fingers at him before spinning to leave again.

He watched her go as frustration and regret danced through his chest.

****

Riley questioned several guards and a couple of butlers, but no one knew anything.

She was on her way back to her room when she bumped right into Liam. She found herself tangled in his embrace, laughter rumbling through him as he caught her. “Whoa there! Where’s the fire?”

“Liam!” She made no move to extract herself from his arms. Instead, she smiled up at him. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”

“I see that!” He stared down at her with a sappy grin for several long seconds before remembering himself. He cleared his throat as he stepped away from her. “Were you on your way to the dining hall?”

“No, my room, actually.”

“I hope everything is okay.”

She gave him a bright smile as she leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Everything is fine. I just can’t take another dinner with those fucking harpies.”

Liam threw his head back and laughed. Yes, it was a scandalous remark, but he found her honesty refreshing. He found everything about her refreshing, not to mention alluring. He moved closer to her to whisper, “Why do you think I never eat in the public dining hall?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Oh, my! What an unprincely thing to say!”

“You seem to bring out that side of me.” His tone suddenly serious, he blurted, “Have dinner with me tonight? In my private dining room?”

“I’d love to, but I already have plans for tonight.”

“Oh. I thought you said you were having dinner in your roo—”

“Yes, we are.”

His shoulders slumped. “I see.”

“Tomorrow?”

His head snapped up. “You’ll have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“That’s…. not exactly the response I was hoping for—”

“I mean, if you’d rather not—”

“No! No… I mean yes! I mean… I definitely want to have dinner with you, Riley. Tomorrow night it is.”

“Great. Just text me the time.”

He immediately whipped out his phone and sent her a text.

She rewarded him with a seductive smirk. “That was quick.”

“He who hesitates is lost.”

“I would have said you snooze, you lose. But that works too.”

“I don’t intend to lose.”

“Lose what?”

His voice was unusually low and quiet as he returned the phone to his pocket. “You, Riley.”

Riley Brooks was seldom taken aback by anything a man said, but that did the trick. “What?”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten our night in New York so easily.”

“Of course, not. I just didn’t think—”

“Did you like the roses? They’re from my mother’s garden.”

“That was you?”

“Yes.”

“But…why?”

“Why?” He looked at her with his mouth agape. Glancing around quickly to ensure they were still alone in the hallway; he reached for her and yanked her body to his. Lowering his lips to her ear, he murmured, “I know you think New York was just about sex and that a prince would never marry a waitress, but you’re wrong, Riley. Dead wrong. On both counts.”

She pulled back to search his onyx eyes with her emerald ones. She couldn’t help the skepticism in her voice. “Really?”

“Yes, really! What do I have to do to convince you of that?”

“I don’t know, Liam. But it’s going to take more than a few roses.”

Gifts were not about to win her over. Sure, she had come from poverty, but he hadn’t. Material things were easy for him to come by and easy for him to part with. Simply spending money on her only convinced her that he wanted to sleep with her.

While sex with the smoking hot prince was something she was more than willing to engage in, she refused to let her heart get involved when she already knew disappointment was waiting at the end.

No matter what he said, he was never going to marry her. He wasn’t in love with her. He was in lust with her and that was something she was familiar with, something she could roll with. But she would not be tricked into letting her feelings get involved.

If he expected her to fall in love, he was going to have to invest a lot more than just money. That was too easy. She refused to be merely one more victim in the trail of broken hearts he’d left behind him.

Liam watched her walk away with a myriad of emotions crashing through him. If she wanted him to work harder to get her attention, he would do that. He knew she liked him. The night in New York had proven that. But since her arrival in Cordonia, she had frozen him out. Were her plans tonight with Max? What the fuck did she see in Max that she didn’t see in him? It was frustrating, galling, and, if he were being honest with himself, a little thrilling. He did love a good challenge.

***

Riley let herself back into her room to a stupendous surprise. The two dozen red roses still graced the console table near the entry, but every other available surface, save the bed, was now covered in vases brimming with all manner of blue flowers. Deep blue roses, baby blue hydrangeas, several shades of carnations, and blue and white morning glories, among others, were spread across the tops of the dresser, the end tables, and the vanity.

She gasped as she turned circles, taking it all in. “Max! What is this?”

“Ah…” pink flamed across his cheeks. “I know red roses are romantic and all, but I also know blue is your favorite color, so I took a chance that you might like them.”

“Like them? Max, I love them! But you didn’t have to do all this just because Liam sent me flowers.”

“It was Liam?” His heart sank.

He felt pretty confident about his chances of competing against most of the men at court. But Liam was another story entirely. Of course, she would want Liam. Hell, he wanted Liam, so he certainly couldn’t blame her.

Maybe now was the time to tell her that his feelings for her were real. That it was more than just fun and games for him. “Riley, I—”

There was a knock on the door.

“Hold that thought,” she told him as she strode across the room to answer it.

She pulled the door open to find Drake standing in the hallway. Her face lit up with surprised delight. “Hey, handsome! Did you finally decide on something?”

“I…ah... wanted to talk—” his words cut off mid-sentence as Max appeared in the doorway behind her. A storm raged across his face. “You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t have—”

“Drake? What are you doing here?”

All three heads turned toward the new voice.

Drake’s brain spun frantically, trying to find a reasonable explanation for his presence. “Ah, I noticed they were missing from the dining hall and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Liam’s shoulders relaxed. He had asked Drake to keep an eye on her for him. To personally ensure her safety.

“What are you doing here?” Riley directed her question to Liam.

“I needed to change the time of our date tomorrow night.”

Max stiffened. Drake inspected the casing around the doorframe.

“You couldn’t have texted me that?”

“I could have…” that sparkle that she remembered from New York was back in his eyes. “But I wanted to see you in person.”

“Hm.” She smiled as her finger tapped her lips. “Well, since you’re both here, would you like to come in and join us? We were going to have dinner sent up and have a movie marathon.”

Drake looked skeptically from her to Liam to Max. “I don’t know if we should—”

“I’d love to!” Liam swept into the room with satisfaction radiating from every pore of his body. He pushed past a dismayed Max.

That satisfaction evaporated as he took in the scene in front of him. “That’s a lot of blue flowers.”

Max perked up as his arm went around Riley’s shoulder. “Blue is her favorite color, so I thought she might like some to offset all that red.”

“Yes, I get it. You had to go big after copying my idea.”

“I—” Max’s reply was cut off by Riley’s hand on his chest. “No fighting, boys. We’re going to watch movies and have fun tonight.” Turning back toward Drake, she motioned for him to come in. “Are you going to stand in the hallway or are you going to get in here and help me make sure these two behave?”

Drake hesitated only a second or two.

What could it hurt?

He glanced around at the room full of flowers. Two dozen of Cordonia’s finest red roses, straight from the crown’s own garden shimmered in the waning daylight. At least a dozen vases of flowers turned the room into a shimmering ocean of blue. The younger son of one of Cordonia’s noblest houses and the crown prince himself at a standoff over her attentions, and still she wanted him there. That meant something, right?

Not that he was interested in her. If Liam got his way, and Liam usually did, she was going to be the next queen and his best friend’s wife. Both of those things put her firmly off limits to him, no matter how much she inflamed his desires, haunted his dreams, and bedeviled his waking hours.

Still. What could it hurt to watch a couple of movies with her and two of his oldest friends? It was really Liam and Max he was staying for. To make sure they didn’t fight over her too much. Yeah, that’s why he was staying.

Riley leaned over and whispered into Max’s ear. His scowl was replaced with a flushed face and a broad grin. He nodded as he pulled his phone from his pocket and started swiping. His eyes flicked up long enough to say, “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll have the kitchen send up more food.”

Drake took the lounge chair next to the bed just as Riley climbed up and settled herself in the middle of the bed. She patted the space on either side of her. “Who wants to join me?”

Before Drake could react, Liam was in the closest spot and Max had hurled himself onto the bed, clambering over two sets of legs to claim the other side. With a disgruntled shake of his head, he thumped back into the chair.

This had been a bad idea.

But it hadn’t been a bad idea. His misgivings were soon put to rest as they all balanced their dinner plates on their laps and got completely and inexplicably sucked into Barbie.

Not a movie he would have picked, but as it turned out, it was not a kid’s movie at all. The existential angst, the clever humor, the insightfulness, and the adventure had him forgetting the awkwardness of the situation and laughing along with his friends at the onscreen antics. He was relaxed and actually enjoying his night off.

Max had pushed aside his insecurities about Liam, choosing to focus, instead, on the promises Riley had whispered in his ear about the rewards he’d receive later for being a good boy and playing nice with everyone. His eyes kept sliding sidewise to gauge her reactions to the movie. He wanted to share all of them with her…. every laugh, every gasp, every moment. Not just of the movie, he realized, but for the rest of his life.

His gaze flicked briefly to the man on her other side. He knew Liam was still an obstacle, but he had infinite amounts of patience and faith, deep in his heart, that everything would work out in the end.

Liam didn’t miss the sidelong glances Max was throwing at both him and Riley. He couldn’t say he was completely oblivious to Max’s charms, but he was nothing if not persistent.

She didn’t trust him yet. That was fine. He would prove to her that she could. She needed him to put in work, and he would do that. He had yet to set his mind to any task that he couldn’t master. He just needed to try harder, be smarter, and focus deeper. Winning her heart would be worth it. He knew to the very core of his being that they belonged together.

Long after the dishes had been cleared, and the night had deepened, Riley lay with her head on Liam’s shoulder, drifting off as the credits for the latest Ghostbusters movie rolled. Max was curled up against her on her other side, one arm slung over her waist as Liam’s fingers gently combed through her hair. The sound of Drake’s soft snoring drifted through the room.

She should probably wake everyone and tell them to go sleep in their own beds. That would be far more comfortable, especially for Drake, who was dozing in a chair. But the warmth emanating from the men on either side of her, combined with the softness of the bed and the darkness of the room, lulled her into a contented coziness that she was loathe to break.

The quiet hum of the air conditioning filled the room as the TV clicked off, sealing her decision as she let herself drift off to sleep surrounded by the sounds, scents, and warmth of the three men who had commanded all her attention for the last month.

For the moment, none of them were fighting each other or her. Their earlier laughter still rang in her ears. For tonight, things were peaceful, calm, and happy, and not a single one of them wanted to do anything to disrupt that.

Liam was the last one left awake. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “Good night, Riley.” Before closing his eyes and slipping into a contented slumber of his own.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

From the Shrike Windmill Studios vid! Which is possibly my most favorite look of his my god. Whatever you want to do with this—fluffy, steamy, whatever—but my god his eyes 🫠 had to share it

This was a most unfair attempt to ruin me. How dare you throw that picture my way? I hope this is what you had in mind. I tried to stay as close to the scenario of the video and the song as possible.

Warning: brief talk about alcohol; slightly smutty

This was torture. He had never felt more alone or more out of place even though he was surrounded by people he loved in a place he usually felt so at home in. But today, it was not merely hard to focus, to remember the lines and notes that had sprung from his own mind, it was impossible. Images of you, of you and him together, kept constantly replaying on the oversized screen at his cinema of memories. 

Last night, you and him, it had been messy. The best kind. Tangled limbs and sweat-soaked skin, and those kisses. Deep and passionate, set on consuming the both of you whole. He was sure they had left an imprint on his soul, never to be erased again. 

It had been everything his heart desired, but not at all the way he had wanted it to be. And now all he could think about was that it might have sent the wrong message, that instead of bringing you closer to him, it had driven you away for good, especially since you had been gone this morning, not a trace of you to be found, as if you had never shared that night in the first place. No forgotten items of clothing, no lipstick on the pillows, not even the tiniest mark left on his body to prove that he had been yours. 

Only his shirt had held the faintest scent of you, a little reminder that his lovesick mind had not just dreamed it all up. But even that might be nothing but his imagination running wild. He had put it on this morning anyway, keeping you close, just a little longer. 

In the end, it had not turned out to be his wisest choice. It was distracting, making him forget the words he was about to sing or pick the wrong strings, so much so that he could feel the nerves of his band members wearing thin upon his lack of concentration. 

Luckily, this time he had almost made it to the end of the song without messing up, when another wave of your scent forced his eyes shut in a feeble attempt not to lose focus. Thick and heady it invaded his nostrils, sparking the memory of your moan close to his ear. It had been his name that had rolled over your lips on the peak of your passion, it had echoed from the walls of the dimly lit room, and set every last fibre of his heart into motion. It was still humming in the reverberation. 

But when he finally opened his eyes again, it suddenly stopped. There you were, looking just as miserable as he felt, his chest pierced by a violent sting upon the hint of puffiness around your eyes. 

“Can we talk?” you mouthed without making a sound and the casual wink and nod he chose to answer your question with could barely hide that these three words had been enough to pull the rug and send him spiralling into an abyss of anxiety. 

He had no idea how his legs had mustered the strength to move, but he found himself walking anyway, following you to some place quiet while the rest of the world drowned out around him. He could barely make out someone’s annoyed voice over the white noise in his ears, uttering a miffed, “Let’s take five then, shall we?”

He felt claustrophobic, the walls slowly closing in on him as he let you lead him down the corridor and into some tiny room at the far end he was sure he had never been in before. 

“Look,” you began, your voice frail and choked, and even the tiniest drop of hope he had been harbouring like a miser until now, that this might somehow still end well, evaporated, “about last night. I…can we just…well, I know you didn’t mean to…you’d probably had a few drinks and…things just happened, I guess.”

His brain needed a moment to process your words.

“A few drinks?” What were you even talking about? “I’ve never been more sober in my entire life.”

He watched as a myriad of emotions washed over your face, leaving deep creases on your forehead.

“You mean…”

A frustrated sigh escaped his lungs and he immediately wished he could take it back. You would surely take this the wrong way, assuming he was annoyed by your lack of comprehension, when he would never. Instead it was his own inability to make his feelings for you clear that vexed him beyond reason.

“What I mean is that everything I said, every single thing I did, is exactly what I meant to do. What I have been meaning to do for so long now. But if this is not what you want, just say the word and we’ll never have to talk about last night again.”

Moments went by, possibly mere seconds of your silence, and still they felt like an eternity in the depths of Tartarus. This was agony, his personal living hell, and what made it even worse, it had been born from his own reckless behaviour. This needed to stop, and if you could not end this futile endeavour, he would.

“I see.”

Two words, it did not take more, and still they had cost him everything. He needed to leave, now, because he could not stand being so close, knowing full well that the two of you would never be close again. And so he turned, not sure if there was anything he could say to make this less awkward, when your hand wrapped around his wrist out of nowhere.

“No, you don’t.”

Your voice was dry and measured, forming the perfect contrast to the language your hands spoke. Frenzied fingers fisted his grey undershirt to pull him closer until your bodies collided, the momentum sending you stumbling backwards. He barely just managed to soften the impact, one hand pressed against the wall, the other cupping the back of your head. 

In the blink of an eye the same fever that had befallen you last night took hold of you both again. You moaned against his lips as his mouth met yours, falling open instantly to taste you and allow you his familiar taste in return. 

He wanted you, more than he had ever thought it possible to want someone, but he could not. Not here. Not like this. He wanted to properly make love to you this time. To show you what he truly wanted, how his heart was beating for you, so you would never doubt his feelings for you ever again. 

And so he stopped, his hand finding your cheek, tender thumb gliding along your cheekbone in a silent apology. He knew you understood, you had always understood him better than anyone. Still it was him who could not resist the lure of your lips now. They were still trembling from the sensual kiss you had shared, and he needed to feel them again, just once, just for a blink of time. One last taste to get him through the rest of the day before he would at last have you all to himself again tonight. 

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ [1, 2, 3, 5] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 10k

“I have not been meeting with Steve.” you scowled behind gritted teeth. Balled fists return to your side. Pin-point daggers shoot back, unphased.

It’s an absurd notion on its own, that you betray him in the slightest. You also know you’ve had sneezes last longer than that conversation–how the hell did Tony know about it?

“Try again.” He doesn’t return your heat in his voice, leaving that to be felt through his grasp. 

“Fine, I ran into Steve, but come on, you seriously think I would–”

“Not sure what to think given how easy it just was for you to lie to me.” 

“You’ve been lying to me from the start!” 

You pulled yourself from his grasp, tossing the bag onto the island. Cream marble and translucency make for wonderful camouflage, almost losing itself in the light entirely.

“I’d hardly call my personal habits comparable to sneaking around.” 

Adrenaline does what it knows best, keeping you pliant and pissed. Two things that erode rationalism like rust. The iron spreads to whatever argument you would’ve made had there been more time to prepare. Or sense to see the mosaic pattern here. Time stills for no more than a few seconds–and that’s all Tony needs.

“So, go ahead, please. Tell me more about what I should think .”

He says it so permissively, you might have obliged if his jaw loosened even a bit to do so. That tiny breadth of space is stalked through by shiny leather oxfords. You’re given a not so pleasant reminder of his stature when he's in front of you again, more overwhelming than before. The cool stone island digs into your back. 

“Here I was actually worried something could have happened to you–turn’s out you’re searching for, what , exactly?” 

The reversal almost worked, really. The reminiscent guilt came back as it always does. You felt the same way for wanting to leave back in California months ago. Even all that time ago in that dimly lit boutique. Tony showed you time and time again how much he loved you– wanted you, and here you were, finding another reason to push him away.

You were so close to giving in. The marble’s nearly swallowed the powdery bag whole by now, for it takes you longer to see the plastic outline bouncing back at you. 

Tony waits, hands tucked into the pocket of his suit pants (in a very deliberate attempt to hide his own unease). His eyes still bore back into you like a hawk, and you wanted to surrender to them until their pin-point, reddened nature dawned on you. Then, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the tempo beating fast your own. The shake in his hands when he held you in place.

To Tony, you meet his eyes with something far more heart-piercing than anger, and he gets a sick feeling of deja vu. You wouldn’t know–his face stone cold from years of practice. But this close, you can see something worse. 

“You’re wasted right now .” 

You don’t bother making it a question (it’s a quiet scoff). Nor do you bother to wait for the response he’s struggling to muster. Decades of life yet he lacked a great deal of experience in getting called on his shit.  All the air seems to leave the room, saving just the few breaths you have remaining in your lungs. 

“We’re done.” 

You use them wisely, calmly , even, to head for the elevator and as far away from this as possible. Despite the fact your ears are ringing. Don’t ask where you find the willpower. You push past him, rather easily because Tony moves for the sanctity of his shoulder and knee. 

Your fingers go to grace the brass buttons, but Tony crosses the threshold with far fewer steps and positions himself between you and the opening door. 

“ Move , Tony.” you say sternly, though it feels ridiculous raising your voice at someone whose gaze you have to look up to meet. 

“Don’t want to keep Mr. America waiting, of course.”

“Seriously?” you scoff, eyes rolling. “You’re still on that?”

“I don’t know, you still wanna lie to me?” 

“How many times do I need to tell you–”

“I know you were with him, so you can cut the bullshit.”

“I told you, I ran into Steve. That’s . It. ” you respond, making another move for the button just for Tony to shift an inch to the left. 

“You two looked very cozy outside that bar. Let me guess, he ordered a Manhattan and you just couldn’t say no.” 

“For god’s sake, no . He came out while I was waiting and asked me not to tell you–end of story.” You’d hoped that added details would be enough to assuage him–at least to move out of your way.

“So, you decided all on your own to rummage through the bathroom?” 

As many of his questions tend to be, he already knows the answer. Even still, the look you give is telling on its own. 

“I mean, really–” he chuckles dryly, “Please tell me what is so special about him that you keep trusting him over me.” 

“He, for one, isn’t controlling or watching my every move–out of the way, Tony.” you repeat, exhausted. 

Tony’s eyes dart down to the elevator panel he’d done such a phenomenal job of blocking, before glancing back at your pleading face. That seems to do the trick, because he presses the call button himself and gestures open arms into the small space. 

“By all means, knock yourself out.”

Shocked, but without another word, you enter. As you turn and press L for the lobby, you expect Tony’s irate face staring back at you.

Instead, you catch the patterned fabric lining the back of his suit vest as he walks away.

Once the elevator doors shut, Tony loses his last semblance of composure. 

A sheer crystal serving tray by the stove behind him, topped with an array of ornate glasses, is thrown straight across the kitchen where it crashes to a million pieces at the plush living room rug. 

He truly does not enjoy your penchant for storming off today or any other day.

Today is the worst, though, for two reasons. One, he’s not certain that letting you leave was the best move in the long-term. Two, you promised never to do this in the first place–you fucking promised. 

Another innocent bystander (this time a glass pitcher) joins the pile in the living room. 

Stuttery hands brace the counter. It’s of little effort for him to keep a hardened facade in the face of anger, but now that you’re not here to see it, the stone mask cracks. Shame, guilt, anger and that sneaky trickster known as self-righteousness blend up into something new entirely. There’s no pride in this for him, truly. 

The billionaire was so certain when he saw the photos. You and fucking Rogers of all people, talking so close. Paranoia and a lack of reasonable perspective means his first thoughts are not pleasant in any shape or form. He wasn’t controlling , everything he did was preventative. This was self-confirmation (and a shit ton of jealousy). You’d simply done the thing he was most afraid of. 

Or it was the thing he was most afraid of. 

The counter stays tight under his grasp until his hands sport two fresh indentations, cursing himself and trying not to think about how breakable the chandelier is. 

Just as he was sure of the photos, he was sure of you . You wouldn’t leave him, you were here to stay, you wanted him–right? 

Only now under the cool touch of marble does he realize those ideas could never possibly co-exist. 

No one as good to him as you would betray him, you wouldn’t. But you could reach the breaking point he sought so heavily to avoid in the beginning.

All alone in his tower built atop money and bad habits, the chandelier is spared as the great Tony Stark starts to break instead.

That is until he remembers he isn’t alone.

“Jarvis.” he calls out, and the older man emerges from the hallway no louder than a mouse.

Don’t feel embarrassed, the walls and loyal ears have certainly heard worse. Discretion is 90% of his job after all. In fact, right now he’s pretending not to notice the tears running down Tony’s face.

“Find out where she went.”

Tony keeps his head trained to the countertop anyway, just in case. Jarvis turns to follow through his instructions, but stops as soon as he starts. Decades of serving the Stark family is enough to know he’s probably better off holding his tongue. He speaks for your sake.

“Sir, I suspect she went home.” 

At this, the wetness is dried by his shirt sleeve, already grabbing his coat to follow you. 

“Sir,” Jarvis quickly interjects, Tony’s fingers on the call button. “Might I suggest…waiting until the morning?” 

He doesn’t need to say why. Tony can guess well enough.

You actually had no destination in mind. The thought of home felt disgustingly empty, and the reminder that you only still had it because of Tony would definitely stay persistent. You couldn’t bear to think about what you might've done to pay for it otherwise. Going to a friend’s would require an explanation you absolutely could not give. For a while, you wander just as before. You must look insane to the people passing by–makeup definitely stained and running.

A rudimentary pros and cons list is drafted, revised, deleted, and drafted once more. Sure, you didn’t have a slew of loves to compare it to, but you knew the one you had for Tony was irreplaceable. No one ever made you feel this wanted , this loved , this special .  No ex of yours left a dozen roses by your door–or waited in the car for hours while you slept. They didn’t fill their lacquer kitchen cabinets with herbal teas just because you mentioned liking them once . Hibiscus and rooibos flooded Tony’s kitchen so long as it kept you happy . Every other relationship was a caustic whirlpool. Tony was a dizzying fantasia. You gleefully closed your eyes so many times that the thought of opening them made you nauseous. 

You swallow stale bile and keep walking. 

The dusky hue in the sky grows to a fine oceanic blue above you until you gain enough sense to go home. Out of spite (and totally not because you have no other way), you take the subway home, cheeks raw from the night’s sharp wind on your tears. 

Your heels clank awkwardly on the metal descent, echoing on the platform. It’s empty, sharply different from the vamping nightlife outside. It’s not long before your train hustles down the track, stepping on to an disturbingly, equally empty train car. 

You slump into the first empty seat you see. In a calmer mood, you might’ve bothered with your phone, instead staring into your reflection on the glass pane. The gentle rocking starts soon after, and you work on putting your mind somewhere besides bergamot and red. 

Tony does not like waiting.

He would be working, if he could find even a shadow of concentration. All he can think about is you– the grit in your voice. 

At some point in his marathon around the penthouse, the small pile of glass is quietly cleaned away. Out of sheer boredom (and latent regrets), he considers creating a new one.

Why would you leave him– how could you leave him? 

In the idle night hours, pacing from room to room, Tony almost wishes you had cheated on him. Then, he could be right. He could skip past silly little thought pieces over his vices addiction and fly straight to indignity. It wouldn’t be his fault, would it? He wouldn’t have to explain a damn thing to a world that didn’t care for him.

Everyone betrayed him in the end, even you. 

With enough clarity, he might be able to see the shame hiding under all that self-righteousness, but alas. Years of practice and all. 

The best he can do for now is scalding admonishment. 

And a pinch of paranoia that his own actions caused Steve to seek you out–again. Tony knew the soldier was stupid, but that would be moronic . He made himself perfectly clear this morning, no shot Steve chose this as the method for exacting his revenge. It wasn’t a well-guarded secret amongst Tony’s circle that you were to be left ignorant, you weren’t like them . Really, he’d purposefully (and harshly) informed this as much. If Steve wanted to embarrass him then he failed succeeded miserably. The fact he would even attempt such a thing is the greater offense. 

Tony’s self-indulgent, not an idiot. Even under watered layers of complexes, he knows the greatest offense lies ten feet away on his kitchen counter. In fact, it’s what keeps him awake through the night. Awake and thinking–thinking about how fucking flawlessly he was keeping everything under wraps. This infallible image he crafted for you was gone. No longer could he hide behind a glass barrier of false separation. Foolish Tony–believing a second chance would come so freely. 

He made the same mistake twice. The odds he’d get a third chance were slim to none. At the time, he felt lucky to even have Pepper. Clearly he’s doing something worth rewarding on this Earth, because then he found you. Or, alternatively, God realized what a disservice he’d done by walking missile Tony’s way in the first place. 

You were invaluable. Nothing like his playboy flings or one-night stands. From the moment he laid eyes on you he knew his life would never be the same without you.

You promised , and he intends to make good on it even if you won’t. 

Tony can’t recall the last time he waited for a damn thing in his adult life (much less to sober up), and he doesn’t care much for starting something new today. Then, he remembers just how much patience he has for you. He waits for you patiently as you oggle every mural, piece of street art, or weird boutique. He waits as quietly as can be while you sleep, and he waited months for you to feel comfortable enough to spend consecutive nights at his home. 

There’s a pit growing in his chest–one screaming that his hard work might be swirling down the drain. How stupid he was for letting you storm off. With each passing second, you were sinking further from his grasp.

To hell with waiting. 

After all, he’s Tony Stark –he’d deny himself of nothing he desired. He didn’t work this hard to settle for less than that. 

In his defense, he does attempt to do the courteous thing of calling before showing up randomly in the middle of the night. Your phone, hopelessly abandoned deep in your purse, rings to no answer. It totally doesn’t make him more irate. 

One extremely lonely, and infuriating train ride later, you make it home. You jump when a knock vibrates through your apartment–though you know there’s only one person who’d show up in the middle of the night. Still, you tiptoe across the living to peer through the peephole anyway. While you were not super enthusiastic about seeing him outside your door this soon, the defeated slump in his shoulders gives you some satisfaction. 

A very brief, stereotypical through-the-door conversation ensues. You shout for him to leave, to which Tony provides the usual platitudes to just open the door and you respond further with a stout fuck no .  You roll your eyes at his continued pleas, and turn for your bedroom. He could sit out there and talk to the door all night like a madman if it suited him, but you weren’t going to spend a precious second on this earth listening to it. 

You don’t even make it past your couch before you hear what you swear to god cannot be your lock turning. God, Buddha, and everything else divine must have been busy, because Tony stands in the entryway, illuminated by the kitchen stove light. 

“Have you lost your mind ? Where the hell did you get a key?” 

He shrugs and looks around like it’s obvious. 

“The lease holder is usually given a key, especially if they’re paying.” 

The aghast scoff can’t wait to leap from your throat. 

“You know what, fuck you .” you spat, flying past him to the door. “No good deed , huh?” 

Somewhere between you storming out earlier in the night and his decision to come here (or maybe walking up the creaking stairs) he seems to have gotten the impression you were in a joking mood. There’s nothing but sweetness in his voice now, yet you still can’t trust that you know where his head’s at. Your night had been tumultuous enough without him showing up. 

Your fingers just barely wrap around a cool metal knob, the hall light leaving a thin warm line on your face. Tony braces a heavy palm above your head the second it does, closing it shut with a frame wobbling thud . 

“A bit rude to run out on me twice, don’t ya think?” he smirks, looking down at you. 

“A bit rude to force your dirty money on someone then hold it over their head, don’t you think?” you mock, stupidly trying to pull the handle open a second time, unbudging against Tony’s palm, biceps testing the elasticity of his silk shirt. You were getting tired of constantly feeling trapped. 

You wish you’d stay far away, in the safety of the living room where citrus didn’t take you over. Where that hopeless little part of your brain could stay quiet and not scream to wrap your arms around his torso. Also because the door doesn’t move a fucking centimeter, so it was a waste of energy regardless. 

“If you wanted someone who’d let you work yourself to death or end up on the street, you should’ve called that guy from your high school reunion back. You know–the real handsy one with the mohawk.”

“I’ll get right on that if you move out of the fucking way.” 

“Please, like I’d ever allow that.” Tony laughs, and you’re wondering why you appear as some sort of one-woman comedy act by every man in this city.

“What the hell do you want? I told you–I’m done with this.” 

He ends his chuckle with a tsk , leaving you in the living room to sit at your kitchen table. The feet of the metal chair make a discordant screech across the linoleum and he turns the seat towards you before sitting. 

“You don’t mean that, honey.” Tony smiles, tapping his shoes against the floor.

“I meant it.”

He gestures back towards the entryway.

“Nothing but space and opportunity to run away again, what’s stopping you?”

“You just said you wouldn’t let me.” You’re giving it your all not to shout, to scream at him for how insane this is. If you were still at the tower, you might not have bothered–far away from neighbors with loose lips and thin walls. 

“I’d never allow you to waste your time with someone else. Storm off as much as you like–that won’t keep you from me.” 

It’s all cool words and charisma, with a sickeningly violet weight that flips your stomach. He’s far across the space, and the door is still within inches of your grasp. 

“Find literally anyone else to sit here and play this game with you.”

“What part of ‘ I want you, and only you ’ do you not understand?” 

The kitchen stove light still illuminates his figure, casting a dim shadow over his back to shadow his figure across the floor. His feet continue to tap idly, head resting on his palms as if confused to why such a statement even needed to be told to you (again).

“You were getting along just fine before you met me, go back to that–I don’t want any part of whatever the hell else it is you’ve been lying about–”

“I’m not letting you go.”

That sweetness is his voice is pushed out to make room for pure desperation. The words waiver as they leave him, clearly fighting against whatever instinct wanted to hold it in, though you can’t help wondering if that’s all that caused the shake. An air of silence falls, where he watches you from the kitchen with stabbing eyes. Walking away is logical, but something unnatural freezes you in place. Plus, you’re not certain he wouldn’t fly to the door again the moment you touch it. 

“Why me?”

Another short silence and this time you’re the one to take advantage of it, louder than you needed to be.

“And why accuse me of sneaking around? I barely even spoke to him how the hell did you know–”

“Were you not?”

Your nostrils flare, nails digging into tight wound palms.  Water droplets leave the kitchen faucet in out of time drips. This is why your fingers shook and bore a million typos to correct. Lying to Tony Stark was one of the stupidest riskiest things you could do. 

“I just needed time to think–”

“To play Nancy Drew..” He corrects. It’s not tempered, just matter-of-factly–like a lawyer pointing out bad evidence.  

“I needed to see for myself–” 

“ Asking totally wasn’t an option.” Tony meets your volume with too much ease.

“Like you would have told me the truth !”

“I’ve never lied to you–”

“Oh, right , you only speak in half-truths, or say it’s nothing to ‘concern myself with ’!” Your anger pulls you across the creaky floors of the entryway, feet tethering on the wood boundary lining off the tile of the kitchen. 

“You’re not–”

“That’s the real reason Pepper left you, isn’t it? Not any of that bullshit you tried to sell me L.A–she left because you play like some larger-than-life billionaire and not the shady piece of shit you are.” 

You don’t have to continue your slow stampede into the kitchen, as the chair makes another unsettling screech on the tile when Tony suddenly stands. An indignation only complimentary to your own is expected, but it isn’t what you get.

“I didn’t come here to be judged by you.” His mouth barely moves to say it–as even the slightest parting would cause him to shout back and have the fight you seem to be dying to have.

“Why the hell are you here?” A better phrased, more favored question in your opinion would have been ‘ why did you break into my apartment after I dumped you? ’, but the answer’s surely the same.

Tony can glare down lasers at you as much as he likes, he���s not getting his way (for once)–you aren’t crumbling (for once).

“I need you.”

That disgusting, heart-string tugging desperation comes back and it turns out you still haven’t built your defense strong enough. You’re taken aback, because you had prepped for a full blown argument. You had enough ammo loaded up to keep this going all night. But somehow, it’s a heavier three-word declaration than I love you .  It’s not a murmur or with a racing chest. 

And it is wholly true. Life had him placed on a giant, constant stage. Where he needed to be someone else–someone stronger and with rougher edges. It kept him enclosed. Where everything he hated about himself was reflected in everyone and everything around him. That kind of cycle is self-feeding. A snake gnawing at its exhausted tail for eternity. It was a spur of the moment decision to stop for a drink that night. Truthfully, he had more than enough already coursing through his veins, but the tower felt emptier than usual in his mind, and this career warrants you very few friends. 

Maybe it was the flickering neon signs–glowing brand names across the sidewalk. The bustling noise flooded the rest of the quiet street like an overflowing bucket. It was a grimy, crowded hole in the wall–small, and cut away from the sprawling residential neighborhood around it. It reminded him of his life before he fucked it up. When no one knew his name or where he came from.

You were just an added bonus. He had planned to relish in the chaos of everyone around as he drank for inebriation instead of taste for once. But dark red nails pass him the glass, and he finds himself stuck watching them for the rest of the night. Despite the man Tony was, he wasn't anyone to you, and a woman like you shouldn’t have been anything to him.

He comes back simply out of craving. That anonymity , that freedom. From responsibility, from judgment. Tony realizes he’s befriended the snake too long. He accepted everything around him as a product of fate and piss-poor luck.You changed that. You made him remember a long forgotten fact–that everything he wanted was within arms reach. 

Suddenly, your eyes take great interest in grout speckling the tile below. There wasn’t enough room for disbelief in the quaint walls of your apartment.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t see me, as–I don’t know, me?” he exhales, running over his face as he re-takes his seat.

“You,” you trail off, shoulders loosening just to earn a small tremble. “--actually mean that.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

You’re gathering the bravado to say something along the lines of ‘ well asshole you were high as a kite when you told me you loved me and never said it again ’. Maybe without the asshole part. A difficult act indeed.

"I didn’t sign up for any of this." you murmur, trying to quench any further questions and avoid a very stern ‘ I told you so ’. But Tony's gaze remains fixed on your arm, making your nerves spike. “–if I had known everything, your work–”

“You wouldn't have agreed to see me, really ?” Tony grins and cocks an eyebrow that you miss in your deep inspection of the tile. “You weren’t clueless when we met.” 

“I wasn’t but–”

“But what?” He sharply interjects. He can’t stand how your eyes land anywhere but him. This conversation is giving him deja vu, and not the whimsical kind. It’s the kind that wraps around the body and stops the flow of blood.  “All of sudden you wanna have a ‘ come to Jesus ’ moment and find some moral high ground?”

Tony’s, unsurprisingly, not wrong. You had good enough sense the moment he slipped into that barstool, asking for a whiskey list as if the knife-shaped tear in the cushion couldn’t tell him that was pointless. A brief glance and finger of Jack Daniels was all he got from you. You spent the rest of the hour catering to the usual Friday night crowd of drunks, only thinking of him again when the shiny green bills made a funny reflection underneath his empty glass. 

Honestly, you were more surprised no one took it for themselves.

It’s when he shows up a second night that you bother with conversation (purely out of gratitude and nothing else, right?). It’s the second night when you stay so, so much later than you should have, talking to someone you knew you shouldn’t be. You ignored it all then, just as you have for the last eight months. Burying your worries under a mountain of attachment and clouds of insecurity. 

You were lucky. Shit, you feel that same gratuitous pang right now. Grateful that he still wanted you. Actually, to put it in his words– needed you. You’re not certain how much longer you could’ve kept it buried if you hadn’t asked Steve directly. You didn’t want him to be right, but all he did was validate every worry and order a swift excavation of everything you hoped wasn’t true. 

“I kept telling myself that it was nothing, but–”” you trail off quietly.

“ But ?” he repeats.

You definitely can’t meet his gaze now, waiting for him to call you naive or tell you that this is somehow some huge misunderstanding. He doesn’t speak, though, and you can’t stop your mouth from opening under the weight of everything spinning in your head.

“But Steve says you’ve been doing this since you were in college.”

“That’s how Steve tells that story?” He scoffs.

“Come on, what else? Lay it on me, doll.” You watch a misshapen shadow stretch the length of the kitchen as Tony makes a dramatic beckoning of the hand.

“Why? So you can figure out what you don’t have to admit to?”

He takes a deep sigh that shifts into a short chuckle.

“You’ve been told a very half-cocked story, my apologies for trying to fix that. Trust me, Steve’s had it out for me for a while now.”

“I trust him a lot more than you right now.” 

“That would be a bad choice.” 

You snap your head up at the scorn. Where you gained this inclination to shoot back at everything with fire–you don’t know. You swear it’s just Tony, where sometimes you just want to match his arrogance tenfold.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that? I’ve learned more about you from him and so far, he hasn’t been wrong.”

“You know more about me than anyone, without running around behind my back.” 

“Yeah, there's just the woman you’re still married to, the cocaine in your bathroom, your company, whatever the hell it is you do while I’m sleeping because you surely aren’t–”

“Alright, alright, okay,” he interrupts, tossing his hands up in defeat and leaning back. “Would you just sit down for a sec–humor me, will you?”

Sullenly, you pull out the matching metal chair across from him. As you sit, folding your arms over your chest, you wonder how fate has aligned that you’ve met such an infuriating and intoxicating person. And why you were even giving this hail mary display the time of day. 

“Let me tell you a story, it’s a good one, swear.” Tony flashes a diamond grin and it takes everything in you not to return it. It does cool your nerves somewhat.

“Better be a good one.” you respond, and Tony promises it’s worth hearing. 

“I’m in my last year at MIT taking this exam for this real stick-up-his-ass professor–I’m talking this guy doesn’t have the muscles required to smile, just all nonsense. It’s my last godforsaken test before winter break and I’ve gotta pass this to be done with this soul-sucking school–”

“You? Stressing about school? Already this story’s got holes in it.” 

“Did you miss the part about this guy being a hardass? Because I could’ve sworn I mentioned it.”

“The test was all about theory and it didn’t matter how much you knew, you had to answer it the way he would. I actually had to focus for once and I’m on this question about integrating quantum computing with electrical grid systems, you know how the ions might–”

“Totally, right.” you remark once you realize a science lecture is inbound. Tony’s ramblings often came late and always flew completely over your head. Tonight, you’re just finding it hard to care. 

“You are a really bad listener, you know that?” 

That earns an instinctive smirk from you, but you sigh and let him continue.

“I’m ten equations and at least five paragraphs into this question and my pager starts going off. I don’t even bother checking what it is–I just hit silence and keep going.” he tells it like it’s a true epic, the sort you swap at tailgates or weddings to try to one-up someone else’s, but you get the sense it’s not. 

“An hour later with like, the worst cramp in my hand and 500% certainty I failed, no big deal, I finally check the message–call Jarvis back and he tells me my parents were in an accident. The weirdest thing was I didn’t even think they were dead–” 

“Tony–” you start, though you weren’t even sure what to say. 

“Honestly,” he chuckles dryly, the bravado in his voice silking away. “I was kinda relieved, for a second. The old man would’ve ripped me a new one for failing that test and I just thought he was a little banged up–too busy nursing a broken arm or something to check my grades.”

Tony’s laugh fades off into a somber sigh, shifting in the wobbling chair. The count of drips in the sink to your right tells you it’s been silent too long. You still don’t have the words to fill it. What kind of words would they even be? Of comfort? Humor to dispel his sadness? If he even was , that is. You gave up on trying to read him. 

“Anyway, my point is . I wasn’t ready to do this– I was 21, getting an electrical engineering degree, notice how that has nothing to do with medicine or biotech. So I did the cowardly thing–let someone else take the wheel and I’m still paying for it twenty years later. Believe me, I’m not loving this either.”

“Then why don’t you stop? I mean you still have a legitimate company, stop using it to make things you don’t want to make.” 

“It sounds so incredibly simple when you put it like that. Gee, wonder why I didn’t think of that earlier.” He makes an exaggerated face of amazement. “Look, I didn’t want you to know because I don’t need someone else telling me how to handle things–it’s my company, it’s my job to sort this out.”

“Does your job require you to test the product yourself?” It’s a lot ruder than you mean it to be, but it’s the real issue corroding your mind. 

“That’s one of the benefits we offer at Stark Industries.” he laughs. 

You still aren’t feeling humorous, scoffing and standing the moment you realize he isn’t taking a word you say seriously. Tony’s fast behind you, stepping between you and the arch into the living room. 

“Okay, okay. But you’re worrying yourself over nothing, doll. I’ve got it handled.” he assures you (poorly), bracing your shoulders with his hands. 

“Yeah, from here it looks totally handled.”

Contrary to the snare in your words, you weren’t a heartless monster. You weren’t playing moral adjudicator like Tony might think. You can recognize this as one of his rare moments of emotional theater, but you can’t be bothered to care knowing what comes after if you fall for it. Especially when you can tell from how not-serious he’s taking this that there’s not a chance he’d stop using anytime soon. You were just tired of being lied to. And you weren’t going to keep watching him self-destruct. All you needed right now was your bed and hot, long shower to put this day behind you.

Tony sighs, abandoning your shoulders to pinch his nose.

“It’s just…You experience things and then they're over and you still can't explain 'em. This business, Pepper, things I can’t even put into words. I...I'm just trying to make sense of it all. The only reason I haven't cracked up is probably because you’re around a lot more. Which is great. I do love you, I'm lucky. But, honey, I can't sleep, not when there's so much to be done to get out of this.”

You’re stunned into silence again. Because Tony speaks a thousand miles a minute and you’re still getting used to hearing ‘ I love you ’ from a sober mouth.

“Tony, this isn’t–” you stammer.

“I know, I know, you’re gonna say this doesn’t change anything but I can’t do that without you, I won’t.” 

Calloused hands brace your sides instead. Warm and loose instead of strict and holding. You can feel the static though. There’s an electric heat jumping between fingertips and white fabric that wants to hold you tight until you can’t tell the difference between his skin and yours. You’ll never see it another time so clearly, but the glaze in Tony’s eyes is desperate– unyielding . You’re scared to give in and only slightly less worried about what it means if you don’t.

You were pissed that he kept something from you– again . You still were. The whole world seemed privy to exactly who Tony Stark was, except you. You were an outsider looking in through frosted window panes. Like the new kid watching everyone else giggle at an inside joke you couldn't possibly understand. 

But you couldn’t say he didn’t care for you. The most damning part was that you loved him . Whether it was truly reciprocated was another question, but you couldn’t think of any other reason he’s standing in your kitchen at three in the morning, letting the stained brown walls wash out the blue details in his suit vest. 

So, you rather than blindly submit, you place a wager. 

“Then promise me you’ll get help.” You force your voice to be stable, confident. You meet his eyes with the same bravado, stepping back from his grasp. If done properly, and he needed you as much as he so claimed, then you win your self-made bet.

You notice he doesn’t reach out to hold you close, instead staring pensively into you for a moment longer than you would like.

 “Okay, done.” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly. “That all?”

“Really? That simple?” you ask, baffled

Tony shrugs again, the crisp folds of his vest giving way to a stout laugh then a sigh.

“If that’s what it takes.”

Afterwards, you’re able to easily separate your life into three segments. There’s life before you started dating billionaire Anthony Edward Stark, life after, and life when you started dating Tony . They are too separate individuals, afterall. You learn that in due time. 

Anthony Edward Stark is a wealthy businessman, arrogant, withholding, charming, and a few notches above dedicated to you. He hates vegan food and wasting time.He's utterly hopeless in the kitchen, with a preference for iron red and a penchant for dry martinis (always dry, you learned this from serving him a classic out of habit on night two). There’s a collection of Black Sabbath albums hiding under his office desk, and there’s a slightly larger collection of ballpoint pens in the trash can nearby–caps gnawed to uselessness in one too many spirals of concentration.

Tony is much the same, in all respects. Eeeeexcept there’s that ex-wife he seemingly abhors. And the designer powdered death he proliferates through the city. And the addiction he promises to hold at bay. He keeps his end of the bargain, though and vicariously becomes someone new once he sleeps a whole lot more. Okay, okay so there's a lot. Overall, he is calmer. The fiery temper is dulled, replaced with an occasional unwarranted annoyance at the most mundane of things. At first, it’s concerning to you–watching his face screw at tailgating cars or broken zippers. Then, you find it pretty amusing, seeing someone so perfectly sewn together furrow their brows at long lines instead of losing it altogether at moments of chaos. Though you quickly figure out why he avoided sleep in the first place. 

It doesn’t happen until your third night back at the tower. A drizzle coats the high windows of the bedroom, the moonlight barely enough to see the rise and fall of his chest beside you. You’re deep into sleep, curled into Tony when you’re jolted awake by a sudden movement. Your eyes flicker open, confused and scanning the silk sheets before he twitches again, muttering in his sleep.

Barely awake, you shifted onto your side, planting a hand on his chest. With his arms no longer wrapped around your side, another twitch sends them flying to his chest.  His skin was warm, damp, mutterings continuing to fall from his lips–angry broken pleas for someone or something to stop. You’d think the windows were open with how bad he shivered.

“Tony,” you called out softly, rocking his shoulder. “Wake up.” 

It takes a few more attempts, each shake growing stronger as you gain more clarity. One of them must have woken him, arms leaving his chest to push your arms away. Fresh off a nightmare and no more awake than you were, he used much more force than needed, completely overshooting your hands to inadvertently strike your cheek.

You winced at the unexpected blow, your hand instinctively flying to your slight sting. Swearing softly, you met his wide-eyed gaze. He moves away from you in the same instant, breathing heavily at the edge of the bed

“Shit–I’m sorry– Fuck,” His hands ran across his face and through his hair more times than you can count, still struggling to catch his breath. “I didn’t know you–”

“It’s okay-Are you okay?” you interrupted, far more concerned about the way how terrified he sounded in his sleep and barely feeling it anymore regardless.

“Yeah, all good, bad dream.” Tony swung his legs over the edge, head resting in his hands. “Shit, that shouldn’t have happened.”

You wanted to press him about it, but decided against it while his voice is this shaky. 

Instead, you move to sit behind him and run a hand over the soft skin of his back until his breath returns to normal. You don’t say anything when the shakes turn to muffled sobs. Instead, you move to sit behind him and run a hand over the soft skin of his back until his breath returns to normal.

Neither of you speak about it. Not then, the next morning, or ever again. It just becomes a new part of reality. Anthony Edward Stark doesn’t sleep. Tony has nightmares that can turn into full panic attacks and render him a tremoring mess. Afterwards, he takes a cold shower and returns to bed without a word. Not that you know what to say anyway.

This is somehow harder. To watch him lose control. You were, as most lovers are, impeccably biased. Tony’s life was enviable to anyone with a brain, and yet he was as fractured as anyone.

“Honey, you plan on eating?” he asks, tapping the rim of your porcelain plate with his fork. 

You’re brought out of your deep thoughts and back into the present where roasted lemon fills your nostrils from the salmon below. You blame the restaurant–far too quiet to keep from drifting off. The candlelight flickers gently over the small table, creating small dancing shadows of you and Tony on the white linen. 

You met his inquisitive brown eyes, giving a small apology before grabbing the cold metal fork. Despite its mouth-watering smell, the taste is anything but. You attempt to hide your displeasure, but such an act is useless this close. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony abandons his own meal to question you. 

"Nothing, it's just... a little overcooked for my taste," you reply, trying to sound lighthearted. You were never the kind of person to send a meal back, and certainly weren't about to start at a place with a Michelin star.

“Could have sworn you ordered medium.” His posture stiffens, eyebrows raised. 

“Simple mistake, it happens.” you shrugged, preparing for a second attempt. 

You don’t get the chance, as Tony stands abruptly, grabbing the plate before your fork could make an impression. 

“Be right back." he assures you, a cold detachment in his voice. 

Without waiting for a response, he strides away from the table, towards the back of the restaurant, leaving you confused. 

After a few moments of waiting, a sense of unease begins to gnaw at you. You rise from your seat and, with hesitant steps, vaguely follow the path he took to a set of wide swinging doors. The soft glow of the overhead lights illuminates the narrow hallway, casting long shadows against the walls.

As you approach the kitchen, a waiter hurriedly scurries out, giving you a glimpse of Tony inside, one hand typing away idly at his phone and the other resting on a prep table, wrapped tightly in a blue rag. 

Blood stains the pristine white of the chef's uniform, his nose crimson and dripping onto his graying beard as he flips a fresh piece of salmon. He spares you a brief timid glance when the doors swing. One hand dabs poorly at the splotches while the other white-knuckles a metal spatula. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you step cautiously into the kitchen, abandoning the warm lights of the hallway for the fluorescent kitchen overheads.

"Oh, hey there," Tony says casually, an icy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 “He’s remaking your salmon.” he explains enthusiastically, returning his attention to his phone.

You stand frozen, watching crimson bleed through the rag. You guessed the chef didn’t take too kindly to criticism, and you know Tony doesn’t take no for an answer. 

Maybe you didn’t know what calm looked on Tony after all. 

You assume you should be grateful. Grateful that he did as you asked and stopped hiding behind his own layers. You got exactly what you wanted after, Tony, wholly and entirely bare for you to see. No more paranoia that you weren’t enough or that this would all come crashing you both down into murky waters. Well, there was still a chance of that. Only now the waves are crystal clear, revealing everything you begged to see. 

At least he got more sleep this way. 

You relished in waking up next to him–when it wasn’t from night tremors, of course. You could watch the sun streak through the curtains and glow around his features, calm and peaceful. It’s a moment of absolute solitude you look forward to each night. Listening to nothing but the faint calls of birds and muffled rumblings as the city woke up 93 floors. You bide the time hill wakes by running your fingers along his chest and shoulder, memorizing scars by feeling alone.

This morning you awake too early, daybreak barely starting and an inability to fall back asleep. Quietly, you pull yourself from Tony’s tight embrace and tiptoe your way downstairs for a cup of tea. You forgo bothering with the lights, getting enough light from the shy horizon to make your way around. You open the kitchen fridge in the hopes of finding a lemon, only to jump nearly out of your skin when a sound comes from the island behind you. 

“ Christ !” you yelped, slamming the door shut and turning to the source.

Harley laughs and takes another bite of his apple, making the same loud crunch as a moment ago. “Aw, did I scare you?”

“What is with you people and sitting in the damn dark?” you question rhetorically, walking to the end of the kitchen to turn on the lights. You tighten the short silk robe around your pajamas, standing across from him. “I was trying to surprise the old man for his birthday, which you are ruining, by the way.” he remarks, pointing a wagging finger. 

“Tony’s birthday?” you ask, confused. “I didn’t know–”

The young man interrupts with a dismissive wave as he swallows another bite. “He doesn’t like to make a ‘ thing ’ of it, don’t sweat.” He gives complimentary air quotes, sitting back in the barstool.

“Fair enough.” You turn back to the cabinets to complete your original task. Behind you, Harley’s teeth piercing the fruit fills the early morning silence, interrupted by the flicker of the stove as you heat the kettle. You feel him eyeing you the entire time but decide not to feed into this time for your own peace. 

“Thanks, by the way.” Hot water is making its way into a lilac mug when he speaks again. 

“For, y’know.” he adds when you pivot with a puzzled face.

“No, I don’t know.” you respond exasperatedly, feeling a dig coming your way. You dip the tea bag into the water, stirring as he just stares back at you. You roll your eyes and head towards the stairs, deciding for certain that conversation with that kid was pointless.

“Were you not the one who got him clean?” He waits until your feet touch the first step to say it, forcing you to pivot.

“I’m not taking credit for his life choices.”

“Fair enough.” he mimics your tone from earlier with a gentle shrug. 

With that, you leave and retreat back upstairs.

The lukewarm tea slides down your throat with better ease in the bedroom. Tony continues to sleep beside you as the sun greets the sky, until you're drifting off too.. 

When you rise again, the chaotic rumbling of the city drifts up and through the windows in full force. You stretch out slowly, tuning into the sound of Tony’s voice and staticky music from the bathroom. You flip over to the source, seeing Tony at the sink fixing a slender graphite tie to his neck. Quiet as a mouse and far too comfortable to leave the silk sheets, you simply observe through the open door. Unaware to his spectator, he continues half-singing half-muttering  verse after verse of Back in Black . You have to stifle a giggle–not in judgment but in adoration. You didn’t think Tony Stark would belt rock lyrics as he cursed his hair for not blow drying exactly how he wanted. 

Eventually, he spots your watchful eyes, after he secures chrome cufflinks and stoops down to straighten his pants. You smile when you realize you're caught. 

“Hopefully you’re enjoying the show.” he grins, exiting the bathroom as he loops a thick leather belt around his waist. 

“It’s alright, could have better acoustics.” you taunt. 

Tony feigns offense as he kneels on the bed beside you. The soft mattress doesn’t make a sound for his weight to settle over top of you. Suddenly beneath him, cypress aftershave and evergreen shampoo drown out your senses. You know he’s not doing this to turn you on, it’s a byproduct of his nature–but now you just want to ruin the hair you watched him spend five minutes perfecting.

“Anyone else would be appreciative to AC/DC , or is that beyond your generation?” Tony asks, bracing an arm beside your head to fiddle with a free strand of hair. 

“I worked in a dive bar–think I know dad rock when I hear it.”

“Ouch.” he winces, a short chuckle following after. 

“Hey, never said it was bad.” you add, and he gives you a questionable hmm in response.

You’re fixated on the way his body compresses your own–the texture of his thumb on your face.

 “Happy birthday, by the way.” you say after a moment of silence. To this he stiffens, his gentle expression changing in the same way. 

“Hmm, guess that is today.” he muses. 

“I take it you haven’t been downstairs yet, then.” you say, thinking of Harley. Tony groans you curse the loss of his weight as he stands. 

“Nope, and I already know the kid’s down there raiding my refrigerator and getting crumbs everywhere.” There’s a strong disdain in his voice, reminding you of the phone call a few weeks ago.

He disappears back to the bathroom, swiping a watch from the granite sink. You stay silent in the airy cloud of sheets, tongue dancing behind your teeth. Clearly, a moment of silence is too telling for Tony. While you're fixated on the ceiling, he creeps back into the room, startling you when he hits the bed once more.

“You want him gone, say the word.” he declares, playfully. You’re barely listening, or really even bothered to think about Harley. It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that he’s  just hovering over you and not crushing you into the mattress or kissing you or –

Your train of thought is derailed when a hand laces behind your neck, fingers settling at your nape and a thumb below your chin. Tony smirks when your eyes flicker to his, increasing the pressure with his thumb until your lips part for air.

“I believe I asked you a question, doll.” He relents for a moment, only enough for your throat to strain as you answer.

“I don’t mind.” you whisper, letting your legs graze his suit pants. There was a small hope the cool fabric would soothe the warmth breaking out on your skin, but the itch just drives you insane.

“Good.” Tony releases his grip to plant a kiss on your forehead. In the next breath, his feet touch the floor again and you contemplate if the lost pride is worth begging him to touch you. 

You don’t get a chance to decide, as he gives some short winded promise about returning before the afternoon and exits the bedroom.

After a frustrating shower, and against both Harley and Jarvis’ better judgment (and very stern insistences), you decide to do something nice for Tony’s birthday. Well, as nice as you can without spending his own money.

It takes the better half of the day, and you have to ban a persistently nosy frat kid from the studio the entire time. You feel guilty about not knowing sooner. Then, you maybe would’ve pulled off something more his style. And then maybe like the finished product. It feels, and honestly, looks rushed (because it is), but in the end you feel worse about giving him nothing after all he’s done for you. 

It’s a small canvas–easy enough for you to carry down the spiral stairs without breaking an ankle. It’s a quarter to three when you make the final stroke. Once you’ve managed to get the stained ink from your fingers, voices start to flood from downstairs. You manage to do a half-decent job wrapping, which gets you way too excited to gift it. Sure, you’d given art as presents to friends before, but not since you were 10 and those were C-tier cards at best. This wasn’t your best work, though it still gave you the same sense of love. 

You call out Tony’s name as you head downstairs, hearing his and Harley’s voices echo from the living room. The muffled words are sharp and tense. You don’t notice the third voice over theirs, or the thud of the feet. You don’t even see her until you enter the space. 

“Well, who do we have here, Tone’?” Two rows of perfect porcelain teeth gleam at you over Tony’s shoulder.

He turns to you the moment she speaks, brows tighter than a steel drum and fists tight by his side. Harley stifles his chuckle behind the kitchen island. 

Silence pulls new red heat to your cheeks. The living embodiment of every insecurity you’d forgotten stood ten feet away in Louboutin heels. Tony’s stories painted enough of a picture of a flawless woman. Actually seeing her, now that was new territory. Her strawberry blonde locks were meticulously curled, in a mauve dress without a single wrinkle in sight. You felt embarrassed with your undone hair,  in stained clothes and matching ink-ridden hands. 

You start an equally embarrassing stammer of your name, to which Tony interrupts.

“Nope, not a chance.” He meets your eyes with fire before turning back to Pepper. “How the hell did you get up here–Actually, I don’t even want to know. Leave now.” 

Pepper grins like they're old friends catching up. You feel like you shouldn’t be witness to whatever this is, awkwardly holding the canvas.

“Aw, Tony ,” she drags out with a click of her tongue. A slender hand reaches down into a thin leather briefcase, placing an envelope on the island. “Just thought I’d give you your present in person.”

“An email would have sufficed.” He grits.

“Well that wouldn’t be very polite, hm?” She cocks her head like it’s a serious question. 

“Exit is directly behind you.” 

Some quippy remark brews and dies on her tongue. A small glance is spared your way again, before she leaves.

Tony doesn’t move until the whir of the elevator starts. Harley clears his throat and retreats to the back hallway without another word.

“Tony–” you call out as he passes you for the stairs. He grants you a dismissive wave that cuts you short and swells your throat. All but stomping he makes his way up the stairs, leaving you alone with all the tension they left behind.

The white envelope goes unattended. Tony didn’t bother with it, but you do. Setting your gift against the stair railing, you tiptoe over to it. It’s unsealed–a solitary white letter tucked away. The ornate New York State emblem is a pale distraction for the words below. 

ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴛᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅɪᴠᴏʀᴄᴇ 

An agreement for complete dissolution separation of any and all assets for both parties.

Signed by Pepper Potts in midnight ink.