#Cherry Tree Lane

[bricksxbooks]

I would play with this ALL DAY (but Mary Poppins wouldn't approve)

I support this product idea on LEGO Ideas, and you should, too!

[crotchety-old-blogger]

[blackpoolhistory]

Where Vicarage Lane meets Cherry Tree Road, Marton, opposite The Welcome pub (which is now The Cherry Tree pub).

Unfortunately, the telephone box was removed in 2022.

[xoxo-rielle]

October was a beautiful month at Green Gables, when the birches in the hollow turned as golden as sunshine and the maples behind the orchard were royal crimson and the wild cherry trees along the lane put on the loveliest shades of dark red and bronzy green, while the fields sunned themselves in aftermaths.

— L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

[sleepymarimo]

toji x reader x shiu // sfw, mostly comedy tbh, something short and sweet // can be viewed as platonic or romantic! // reader works with shiu and toji. reader can be an assassin, an infomant, anything :)

late night stakeouts with 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔 and 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 are not for the fainthearted.

the car is always much too small, with your shoulders brushing against both of theirs. shiu is the driver, always, while toji claims the passenger seat without asking. parked on an abandoned road, hidden by some brush and trees, the car is turned off and the three of you just... wait.

truth be told, the first few hours aren't so bad since it's when you're all the most active and awake, ready to collect information.

after around the four hour mark though, things get... irritating. there hasn't been any activity within the mansion you've been designated to observe. all the lights are off, there are no cars in the driveway, even the wind seems to be nonexistent.

"I don't think you need three people for this," you'd tell shiu, who shrugs and toys with an unlit cigarette, unable to light it as the cherry red end would stand out in the dark of night.

the broker pretends to care, checks his watch, then rolls his eyes as he notices toji finishing a bag of shrimp chips that was supposed to last another couple of hours. "fushiguro wouldn't come unless you did. be grateful that you're the only one he works with."

toji crushes the plastic bag in his hands, the crinkling sounds almost a boom in the quiet car. "y'full of crap," he says, tossing the bag to the backseat and getting cozy, his arm resting behind you, legs comfortably spread. "I said it would be less borning"-

"so I'm here for no reason?" you deadpan, grunting as you push your thigh into his, attempt to reclaim your legspace, but it's like trying to move a wall. and he only smirks, that brute.

the ensuing round of bickering has shiu rubbing the bridge of his nose, pondering a career change.

and, of course, still no action from the house.

sleep is foreign to all of you. it's more of a light doze, really, with at least two people awake at all times. it's early, early in the morning when you take your chance to rest, leaning against shiu's shoulder. his expensive scent clashes with the hints of tobacco that makes your nose twitch. it’s been around fifteen minutes, you might actually fall asleep, then…

“my turn.”

the wind is knocked out of you as toji practically yanks you to his chest, his actions born of either mild envy or a desire to have something warm to cling to- he won’t admit to either.

your head is still heavy and you click your tongue, wriggling in protest, slightly irate. “m’not a rag doll, toji, seriously. what’s the matter with you?”

shiu stretches, rubbing at his shoulder, the spot your head was resting on. “do you want a list?” comes his dry joke, quelled by his tiredness.

“funny,” toji retorts, tightening his hold on you, leaning back and resting his forehead against the window.

the next two hours are terrible. no more snacks, no more coffee, and no movement whatsoever from the mansion.

and, of course, you figure out why. toji had put in the wrong address, with the correct location being a good few hours away.

you could just cry. “shiu, you’ve gotta stop assigning me with him, please,” you plead, on the brink of sleep.

“trust me, I think I might cut him out too,” the broker responds, starting the car and finally lighting the cigarette he’d been waiting ages for.

toji pouts and looks away, that soft pursing of his lips making you momentarily want ruffle his hair, then he grumbles. “how was I supposed to know that there’s a difference between lane and drive? they’re streets.”

“of course there’s a difference,” you protest, lightly poking his head. “just like there’s a difference between avenues and boulevards, pea brain.”

there’s no point in even going to the right location anymore. shiu would probably just meet with the client tomorrow, come up with some excuse and lay on the charm.

tonight the three of you just drive to the first dingy motel you find, which of course only has one king sized bed available.

when it rains it pours, apparently.

for the second time, you’re demoted to the middle, squished between the two men and fighting for space and blankets.

still, you all end up knocking out, just wanting this day to be over.

[theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass]

Friendly lips | L.N.

Lando Norris x friend!reader

Summary: Two close friends, find themselves at a pivotal moment during a Formula 1 race. When a spontaneous kiss ignites a spark of something neither can wrap their heads around.

Warnings: lil sexual themes, fluff.

Word count: ~1.2K

Friendly lips pt. 2

<

The air at the racetrack buzzed with excitement as the Formula 1 Grand Prix revved up for a thrilling race. Lando Norris stood by his car, nerves coursing through his veins. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, you, his best friend and one of his biggest supporters, had promised to come watch the race, but you were nowhere to be found, and he feared you might have chosen not to come...

As the race began, Lando's focus shifted to the track, his bright orange McLaren darting ahead with exhilarating speed. The laps seemed to blur together, and he couldn't help but sneak glances at the garage every time he stopped for a change of tires, hoping to spot your familiar face. But you were nowhere in sight, and the weight of disappointment pressed down on him even more.

After what felt like an eternity, the race concluded with Lando securing a respectable finish. Exhausted and disappointed, he trudged over to the post-race interview area. Reporters surrounded him, thrusting microphones and cameras in his face, but his eyes continued to dart around the pit lane in search of you. Now his disappointment and sadness morphed into anger. Why the hell are you not here?

And then, as the interview began, something incredible happened. Lando's eyes locked onto you, standing in his garage, chatting with one of the mechanics.

He couldn't believe it. You were here. And you look fresh as a cherry plucked from a tree. Your lively rose blush covering your cheeks and that strawberry color lipgloss atop your lips which were pulled into the most dazzling smile he had ever seen. And your eyes. They were locked on him, sparkling brighter than the flashes of cameras surrounding him.

He completely disregarded the questions the interviewer was throwing at him now and sprinted toward you, his heart pounding with elation.

You were here for him and you were looking at him with remaints of tears in your eyes.

He came up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Before you could react, he lifted you off the ground and spun you around, earning an exuberant scream from you. Laughter spilled from both of you as he finally put you down, but he didn't let go. Instead, he held you close, nuzzling his face into your hair and taking a deep breath.

"Sorry for being late, Lando," you said, your voice warm with affection. "The traffic was insane, and I thought I'd miss it all."

Lando squeezed you tightly and replied, "Doesn't matter now. You're here, and that's all that matters.“

“Have you been crying?” he questioned, concern etched on his features, his warm finger just below your eye touching a wet patch left by a tear.

“How could I not? You finished yet another race in one piece. I could not be happier” you squished his cheek making the both of you giggle.

As the day turned into evening, Lando and you found yourselves in the comfort of his hotel room, cuddled up in bed, enjoying a movie. Lando lay on your chest, drawing lazy circles on your torso with his finger, while your hand was softly running through his tousled hair.

Lando lifted himself onto his forearms, his face hovering just above yours, and his deep blue eyes roamed your features. "Thank you for coming today," he murmured, a genuine smile gracing his lips "Seeing you made me really happy."

You gave him a warm smile and gently caressed his cheek. "I know, sorry I was late though."

He smirked mischievously, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. "I know a way you can make it up to me."

You chuckled, "That's disgusting, Lando."

Lando rolled onto his back, sighing dramatically. "Oh, come on, Y/N. Just one kiss, pleaseeee." He batted his eyelashes and gave you puppy-dog eyes.

You pretended to consider his request, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because we're friends, and friends kiss each other when they really need it," Lando declared, grinning.

You thought for a moment then teasingly replied, "Hmm, you're right... I'm gonna go find Carlos and make out with him."

But before you could even attempt to get out of the bed, Lando playfully pushed you back down, his expression a mixture of amusement and determination. "Oh, baby, if you're kissing an F1 driver, it's gonna be me."

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, feeling yourself succumb to his weird request. "Well, in that case, I suppose one little kiss won't hurt."

As your lips met, the laughter subsided into a warm, affectionate moment, one you have never experienced before with your friend.

Lando and you pulled away from the kiss, your heartbeats racing in sync, as if echoing the Formula 1 engines that had roared around the track earlier in the day. The air in the room felt charged, and you exchanged a long, searching look. Had you two just crossed the limits of friendship? Or was this merely another instance of casual, friendly behaviour between two good friends?

You shared a nervous but genuine laugh, trying to alleviate the tension with friendly banter.

"Well, that was interesting," Lando mused with a playful grin, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "But I guess friends sometimes do crazy things, right?"

You chuckled, "Well, if I ever need to practice my kissing skills, I know who to call," both trying but failing to diminish the weird feelings brewing inside.

“Well you’re a cheeky one aren’t you, just using me for my incredible kissing skills and a hot body” he feigned being mad and turned away from you with a pout, crossing his hands over his chest.

“Idiot,” you slap his back playfully feeling the awkwardness dissipate between you two, “now turn of the TV, it’s time to get some sleep before your race tomorrow.”

“Are you gonna be late to this one too?” he piped up mockingly again and soon regretted it letting out a few scared ‘sorry’ after you hit him with your pillow before laying it back in its place and murmuring out a “goodnight Norris.”

He chuckled once more staring at your now still form just a few feet away from him before getting under the covers himself, praying he wakes up tomorrow and finds out that as amazing as the kiss was, it was just a dream and there are no consequences left to deal with.

You lay together in the dark room, each of you with your own inner monologues revolving about the same thing. You both, but separately couldn't help but wonder if there was more to your relationship than just friendship now.

After all, it was indeed an unusual experience for friends to know the taste of each other's lips...

>

A.N. should there be a part 2?

[rb19]

EE: One track you played so often? MV: My dad and I played it in the van. I could sing along to it at the time. *Plays 'Green Grass of Home' by Tom Jones* EE: So it reminds you of the rides with your dad? MV: Absolutely, to Italy. ___________________________ GP: You've just overtaken Ascari in terms of percentage wins in a season. MV: We did that. We all did that. CH: See if you recognize this. Sing along.

The old hometown looks the same As I step down from the train And there to meet me is my mama and papa

Down the road I look and there runs Mary Hair of gold and lips like cherries It's good to touch the green, green grass of home

Yes, they'll all come to meet me Arms reaching, smiling sweetly It's good to touch the green, green grass of home

The old house is still standing Though the paint is cracked and dry And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on Down the lane, I walk with my sweet Mary Hair of gold and lips like cherries It's good to touch the green, green grass of home

Then I awake and look around me At four grey walls that surround me And I realize, yes, I was only dreaming For there's a guard and there's a sad, old padre On and on, we'll walk at daybreak Again, I'll touch the green, green grass of home

Yes, they'll all come to see me In the shade of that old oak tree As they lay me 'Neath the green, green grass of home

[bangaveragewhitewine]

all is calm, all is bright

dad!Eddie Munson x mom!Reader 

Your baby’s first Christmas, a silent moment in the festive glow.

Word count: 1.2k

Content/Warnings: Pure fluff. Short and sweet. Eddie and Reader are parents. Childbirth mention. Reader referred to as 'Mama'. No physical description of Reader - insert yourself, my loves!

Author’s note: Something small and seasonal as I try to get back into some sort of creative flow again. Much grá to you all, my lovelies ❤️

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 

Cherry Lane glowed in the dusky winter light that fell over Hawkins. The entire town dazzled with a warm holiday glow from Christmas lights and the bright excitement of the littlest townsfolk all riled up for a visit from the Big Man later that night. 

Your little home was no different - in fact, it might have been the cosiest home in the whole county. Coloured lights twinkled around the window frames, a handmade wreath hung on the door, and plastic candy canes diligently lined the snow-dusted path to guide Santa’s sleigh. It was a picture-perfect holiday card, inside and out.

Maeve Munson was too young to comprehend the very concept of Christmas, or Santa Claus for that matter. Too shiny and new to recognise the stocking with her name on it hanging above the small fireplace, or the presents wrapped in glossy printed paper beneath the tree.

Just a few weeks old, she arrived as an early gift for you and Eddie. The best one you had ever received. In true Munson fashion, her entrance to the world had been a little dramatic, but Eddie had held your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you needed until Maeve made her debut with a head of dark hair and a loud set of lungs. 

From your cosy nesting place on the sofa, you watch her big brown eyes gazing at the twinkling coloured lights and baubles on the tree. With her cheek resting against her father’s shoulder, Maeve blinks, slow and sleepy,  as she listens to his voice.

“I know you’re really into the boob right now, kid, but you’re going to love Christmas dinner once you’re big enough.” Eddie’s voice is a low murmur as he rocks slowly from side to side, chest to chest with his daughter. 

His hand looks huge on her back, patting a slow and gentle rhythm that just exists for the two of them. 

You can’t take your eyes off of them, despite how tired you feel. It would be so easy to just close them, a quick few minutes rest, but you would miss them too much. 

You wish that your camera was closer so you could snap and savour this moment as one you can hold in your hands. 

It is peaceful bliss bathed in colourful light; you soak it in, savour it. 

There have been no tears for an hour, though you feel like you are right on the precipice of breaking that streak with how much love and joy you feel, swelling like pride in your chest. 

The house is warm, the old window frames are fixed with double-glazed glass that keeps the chilly winter air out. It’s rough around the edges, but there is food in the fridge and the cupboards are full. There’s a tree and lights, a few presents beneath it. 

It’s not much but it’s enough. All you need is right in front of you. 

Eddie catches you watching them, smiles as he nuzzles against chestnut brown hair that will curl and coil like his own in time. 

He pauses his murmured monologue, his waxing lyrical about everything he will pile on his plate tomorrow. Everyone’s bringing something to family Christmas at Harrington’s - you managed to make two desserts while Eddie introduced Maeve to A Charlie Brown Christmas, one eye on you the whole time to make sure you weren’t doing too much. Bringing the Littlest Party Member is the real treat for your friends and family, who will take turns holding her and squabble when one of them hogs the baby for too long.

“Hi Mama,” he says, his voice so soft as he crosses the room slowly on socked feet.

“Hi,” you whisper back, the thick feeling in your throat stalling you from speaking any louder. Part of it is fear, fear that you will undo Eddie’s magic touch at lulling Maeve to sleep. Her eyes are almost closed, almost. 

Slowly, so slowly, he lowers down to sit by you. His gentle sway keeps up, like a lazy metronome, as he takes a load off. His sigh is carried from the tips of his toes, feeling like an almost burnt-out bulb.

“You’re really good at that,” you murmur, smiling through the tiredness.

“Hmm? Don’t count on it, she’s going to be wide awake again in a sec when she realises we’re not standing up.” 

“Mm, maybe. This whole Dad thing suits you, Munson.”

When he smiles, you can still see the shadows beneath his eyes - you have a set to match, his and hers. There’s spit-up on his sleeve and his hair needs a wash. But he is beautiful.  

Being parents wasn’t easy, you didn’t think it would be but some days you didn’t think it would be so hard either. You think that maybe if Eddie let his eyes slip closed, he would fall asleep too from his own gentle rocking rhythm. 

“I can take a turn,” you say, bringing your hand to rub his back in wide smooth circles, mirroring him and Maeve. 

You know his scowl is coming, and still, it makes you smile. 

“Mm-mm, my turn,” he said, brows pulled in as his mouth pouts prettily. Much like your friends, it was easy to fall into a parental squabble of taking turns for the shitty nappies and the baby cuddles. 

“Baby hogger,” you whisper without malice, pushing yourself closer to kiss his stubbly cheek. 

“Yep, my baby now. You get to cuddle her all day when m’workin’.” 

Eddie turns his head, lets his nose bump yours. His chin juts forward just a little to beg a kiss. You don’t even need to think about it, loving him is as easy as breathing.

There’s a pause, like bracing for impact, when Maeve makes a noise against his shoulder. The pause in his swaying did not go unnoticed. 

“Can’t get anything past her, huh?” you murmur, leaving one last smiley kiss to his full lower lip. 

“Nah, m’done for with you two.” His face cracks into a smile, he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

You watch as he sits back a little, resting his head against the back of the second-hand sofa. You peel yourself up just enough to drag the coffee table close enough so he can put his feet up. 

“Only ‘coz it’s Christmas,” you murmur, seeing his grin. 

“You spoil me, baby.” 

You spoil him more by dragging your blanket over his lap, sharing its fleecy warmth as Maeve slowly, so slowly, drifts off. 

There are still gifts to wrap for Wayne and for your friends, laundry to be tossed in the dryer, but for now, you sit together as your baby sleeps, basking in the glow of Christmas. 

Maeve’s breath is deep and steady; she makes these tiny noises that have brought tears to your eyes and Eddie’s on more than one occasion. Partly because she is finally asleep, but mostly because they are the sweetest thing you have ever heard. 

Scooting closer, you press another kiss to Eddie’s cheek and close your eyes for just a moment, breathing in his warm spice, a hint of tobacco from his one cigarette - he wants to be around for Maeve, for you. 

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.” 

Your voice is just above a whisper, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. Your words warm him, settle deep in his bones and set his heart aglow. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” 

His lips press yours in a single kiss, sweeter than any hot cocoa, any candy cane. 

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

[rustedhearts]

black swan: a severed lamb continuation

(pastor!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: pastor steve pays you a visit at college "on behalf of your mother."

♰ roller girl’s pie stand! 🍒 ♰ severed lamb ♰ 'tis autumn

tags: this is a blurb, not a “part” of the series!!; age gap (steve is 35, reader is 19); religious manipulation + regular manipulation; fear + intimidation; stalking i guess; a loooot of religious guilt; actual scripture quoted; forced prayer; like almost dollification; pls do not read this if any of this makes you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. (did not edit, don’t come for my mistakes.)

for @softagardenblooms ⭐️ giving us all what we really want: more pastor!steve <3 sorry it took so long!

rural pennsvylvania, autumn, 1981

Outside the iron lattice of your Lane Hall window, an early winter brewed. The leaves turned and died quickly, and those that clung to their boughs appeared rusted and limp. Walking through campus was now a noisy feat. The soil seemed eternally damp and dull, what grass remained more blonde than green. The thing you missed most about Georgia was the robin's egg sky. Here, everything was grey.

The glass of the window fogged terribly. The girls in Lane cranked the heat up high enough to have an excuse for minimal clothing, yet the outdoors remained bitterly cold.

In an effort to enjoy a moment of quiet solitude in your room, you stood from the creaky wooden bed and wiped your palm over the window. It squeaked over the condensation, creating a streak of clarity to the street of houses below.

A maroon two-door waited on the curb across the black road. It had an Indiana license plate.

"Delilah? You got a visitor!" one of the girls called from outside your room.

You stepped back from the window, lowering your hand and its cold fingertips to your side. Another cold swept through you, settling somewhere in your chest. As bitter as a Pennsylvanian autumn, and as a sour as a cherry from your tree back home. The cherry that once stained his fingers, dipping between his mouth and your mouth.

Bloody fingers that delivered evil through pleasure.

Bred to obey the calling command of male visitors, you turned away from your bed and started toward the door. But you stopped on the toe of your socked foot.

You could feign slumber. But he came in when you were sick and tired.

You could hide in the closet. Your eyes darted toward the lone door near your desk. But he always knows where to find you.

You swallowed as your hand touched the door. It yawned open on its hinges. Immediately, the murmuring of the girls scattered amongst their rooms and the lower floor emitted in a low hum. The floor released little snaps with each step toward the stairs. The Hall was old and worn, taped over with celebrity posters and glittered name stamps.

As you took the first step, another cold gathered. This one in your belly, behind your navel where that sweet, sickening, nauseating pleasure festered under his hands and his touch. You pressed your hand there, pausing on the second step to take a breath.

You could feel him.

The way you felt him from the moment he arrived back home. How he lingered in every room with the omnipotence of his Savior. How his stare sat like hot coals upon your shoulders from across the room. How the promise of his hands came with the fleeting breeze of his body in your vicinity.

His presence had a warmth and a wholeness to it that made your throat tighten. Like being locked in a tight, black room that grows tighter and yet seemingly vaster with every second inside. As though the limits of the darkness are endless, though its bounds are tangibly sworn.

"Delilah? Deli—oh, here she is!" one of the older girls, Rachel, cooed as she collected you with a hand around your arm on the steps.

She came bounding down, and you swore it was only because she pulled you that your feet remembered to go.

He stood tall in the center of the lounge, barely past the doorframe, feet still angled to go further. They flocked around him like pigeons, pecking at the affections of his slow, sideways smile, and roaming gaze. It turned to you as your hall mate pulled you into the room.

You could have sworn something pierced your lung, eliminating all possibilities of keeping in air.

“Hello, Delilah.”

His voice hit you like the gong of a church bell at noon. Familiar, expected, but with a resonance of something to come. An image of his eyes hovering over you while his hands swept through your nightgown flashed through your mind. You had to pinch away a shudder.

“H-hi,” you murmured, and cast your eyes down to your socks.

“She’s always so shy,” another girl piped up. “Lilah, aren’t you gonna introduce us?”

A warmth spread to every inch of your face. It singed the tips of your ears. You fiddled with the strings on your bed shorts, suddenly feeling bare. Though he had seen you in far less—had seen you as bare as the day you were born—you could not fathom to stand before him like this with the audience growing in the lounge.

“I’m Steve,” he said for you, and cast a smile upon the girls that had them elbowing each other. “But I’m afraid we can’t stay for pleasantries, girls. Delilah and I were just headin’ out.”

Your eyes flitted toward him, a panic setting like stone in your limbs. “R-really?”

He seemed to only look at you, though the girls tipped and cocked their heads to assess him and his garb, alternating between his corduroy jacket and your tattered sleep clothes.

“Yes,” he purred, and the smile the others swooned at made you take the smallest step backwards. “I’ll wait while you change.”

♰ ♰

It took you another ten minutes to change, fumbling through every drawer and hanger knowing everything he'd ever touched you in was packed away and left back home, and nothing in your collection seemed worthy enough to dispense so easily.

When you met him on the lawn, his eyes went directly to your chest, where he became accustomed to finding the gleaming gold of a delicate cross. Today, it came up bare.

He said nothing of it as he turned toward the car, and you followed with silent, tip-toed steps. You kept a distance as you passed through the door he opened for you and took your place on the leather passenger seat.

The cold condensation of a milk carton between your thighs against the sticky heat of a Georgian summer haunted the car. Even in the white-breathed cold settling in the car, you felt a scorching heat crawling up your spine. You pulled at your sweater sleeves to invite the cold in.

The car jostled when he slammed the driver door. You kept your eyes on the dash, fingers curling into your palms as he turned the keys in the ignition.

"Your mama's worried about you," is the first thing he says to you.

You wet your lips, turning to the window to watch the street go by. The town was built for the university's accommodation. The library marked the edge of town, and everything past that was farmland and desolation. You hoped he wasn't taking you there.

HIs statement settled like spoiled milk. You wanted to proclaim it a lie immediately. Mama hadn't answered a letter once this semester. Every weekend phone call went unanswered. You called one of the neighbors and asked them to check on her in case the liquor finally got the best of her. But they assured you she was doing well. Just busy.

Yet, he wouldn't lie...right? He wouldn't drive the half day it took for his own pleasure, would he? He once told you that God sent you here for him, that God placing the pair of you in the same vicinity was no mistake. God does not make mistakes, he said. And He always has a plan.

You were His plan for Steve.

At least, that's what he told you.

"I can see why," he continued.

Your head moved on its own, and you were looking at the frown etched between his brows before you could stop yourself. He took glances every few moments as he headed away from the residence halls into campus. Few times they fell to your empty neck.

Your fingers ached to fiddle with the missing token. You hadn’t worn it in months. When you left home, you left the necklace on your dresser. It grew more and more difficult as the weeks went on—free of the Georgia heat and all that grey hazy because of it—to believe you were worthy of wearing the cross. Worthy of speaking to Him knowing what you’d done.

“Oh, Delilah,” he sighed and he shook his head out at the road. “You poor thing.”

He took a turn down the main strip of campus buildings and fit the car into a spot against the curb of your most-frequented. The ballet studio, unlike your splintered and rotting barb back home, nestled on the second floor of a red brick building home to the arts. Steve took his keys from the ignition and opened the door with the sureness of someone like you, who spent most of their days there.

“Come on,” he said when the passenger door was open.

You stepped onto the sidewalk, avoiding his outstretched hand. He placed it on the small of your back as he guided you up the steps and through the door. Your shoes, having collected the dampness of the pavement, squeaked over the gleaming tile. This hall always had a chemically lemon scent to it, and today it made you particularly queasy.

"Up here, isn't it?" He pushed the heavy door open to the stairwell and the steel latch echoed hollowly against the concrete.

His hand seemed to be locating your spine. Reaching for it, through the material of your cardigan, through the thickness of your flesh. The bone ached dully with every step upward. Around the chipped iron railings, winding through the twists of the building. His loafers were black and recently shined. He'd taken to wearing a gold band around his pinkie. His fingers were as long and slender as you remembered, but his skin appeared paler.

It was no longer summer and the cold was an affliction to the body.

Another door thrown open to another linoleum-tiled hall. You traced the black streak marks from boots and sneakers like a set path to the arched doorway to the studio. At the end of the hall, a large latticed window overlooked the yellowed lawn. Often after rehearsals, bundles of ballerinas squished within the bow of the windowsill and blew cigarette smoke against the glass. Permanent fog marks gathered at mouth-height.

The studio was empty. Four mirrored walls, ever-polished hardwood floors the color of sand. Barres cleaned of blood from blistered heels, and a cushioned folding chair near the head of the room, pressed against the mirror. It was the seat of Madame Celeste, the slender, wrinkled woman who commanded the company.

Today, it was empty.

You jolted when the wooden doors clamped shut behind you. The pressure in your spine released and when you turned, it became evident why. He stood before the doors with his hands behind his back, long coat unbuttoned to reveal the white band of his Roman collar. The black shirt of his permanent uniform remained buttoned to the top, snug against his throat.

He fixed his eyes upon you with the intention of a wolf.

Oh, yes. You remembered how this felt. It was almost as though you'd never left.

The blackness of your confinement began to close in around you.

He inhaled deeply and it whistled through his nose. Your own breath shuddered into the room. Madame Celeste did not believe in heat and kept the radiator off. Even when bolts of snow gathered on the window in the hall, the dancers were made to spin until sweat managed to appear. It never took long.

And now, a cold sweat festered under your sweater.

"I am fearful of what I see here," he proclaimed. His gaze left you to trace the room, taking a large step away from the door. The clunk of his shoe resounded like a gunshot.

"'What are you doing, you devastated one? Why dress yourself in scarlet and put on jewels of gold? Why highlight your eyes with makeup?'"

You swallowed as he began to pace the room. Hands settled against his back, one hand closed over the other. Each step like a bullet inching closer to your place in the center of the room. Each word like a slice against your flesh. Stinging, piercing, bleeding you out. He would not look at you and you grew smaller by the second.

"'You adorn yourself in vain,'" he emphasized, shaking his head down at his feet.

His hands had released to press his fingers together as they often did at mass. While he preached and prophesied, and chewed off more of your soul with every syllable. The room felt as off kilter as the chapel back home.

He stopped suddenly before the rear wall of mirrors and fanned his arms wide.

"Vanity!"

You stumbled back with another gasp. A vein protruded between his brows, eyes filled with serpentile venom.

"All this..." He spun slowly, a performative flair that rivaled even yours. His voice dropped to a whisper nearly drowned out by your own pulse. "...mere vanity."

He took a moment, eyes still trained on the mirrors behind you. The proclamation hung in the thin air of the room. Your fingers felt numb pressed into tight fists against your back.

He tipped his chin down and blinked at you. Slowly. There were no charming grins or sideways smiles. There was no softness to the beauty of his features.

“You’ve abandoned God.”

Your hand touched your bare chest. He tracked your movement with his eyes. Stepped closer. One, two—you could feel the warmth of him again. It buzzed in your feet. His proximity stirred a nausea in your gut.

“But I will save you,” he whispered, touching his hand to his chest.

His foot thumped on the floor. Another step. Inching his way to you. The gap between your bodies: shorter, shorter. You jerked backward when you could feel his breath.

He moved one hand your way, palm cupped and fingers bent as though approaching a kitten in the road. He hunched his shoulders a little, lowered a little closer to your eye-line. Every breath taken felt like a load on your lungs. Like at any moment they’d explode from the pressure.

“You will be saved,” he breathed.

The serpent had abandoned him, and its place was something dangerously soft. With warm, round eyes and cinched brows, he appeared transformed in a near instant.

How one gazes upon an infant in the cold. A thing to save. A token of helplessness.

Both hands approached you now, outstretched at shoulder length. You tipped your head away from his incoming presence, eyes squeezing shut when he took hold of your shoulders and spun you around. Every muscle in your body came to a cold front. They cemented together, and maneuvering your body felt like turning a mannequin.

“Kneel,” he murmured. “He wants us to pray.”

He guided you there, and your black tight-clad knees collided into the floorboards with a dull, painful thump. You kept your eyes shut, but heard another pair of knocks behind you. A mirrored vision of your kneeling, he kept arm’s length between your feet and his hands, now letting you go to retrieve the leather bound bible in the pocket of his coat.

The spine tapped on the floor. You could hear a nose drip in the silence. Your own blinks registered with tiny clicks.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.”

It was as though someone had scrubbed the inside of your mouth with sandpaper. With the vigor of a rusted pan and a woolite sponge, leaving the soft pink tissue of your inner cheeks and writhing tongue raw, useless, and scarred.

Your mouth could not utter the pastor’s words.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass us.”

His own voice was that of an instrument, hollowed with an echo that reverberated through your spine and around the room like a boomerang. Like whistling into a cave and waiting for the pitch to make its way back.

Your fingers curled over your knees and grabbed on tight. Every tiny bone in those ten ligaments began to ache.

“And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever.”

In the lull, his breaths were heavy. Shallow gasps rasped in the emptiness behind you.

He waited, and he watched. He watched your shoulders rise and fall, your toes curl against the thin suede of a pair of ballet flats. You left your new pointe shoes back in Georgia. Against your every attempt to banish him to the past, Steve wriggled through the gaps.

The pointe shoes came in the mail a month ago.

Steve inhaled sharply, and you squinted one eye open to find him in the wall of mirrors. His chest ballooned, head tipped back to the florescents. After all this time, this was the first you'd seen him worship.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name," he began again, and you hung your head toward your knees with a wince.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass us.”

Tears stung behind your eyes. His Sunday Morning Mass bravado distorted every syllable of his prayer. Your eardrums quaked with the birth of a buzzing.

“And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory- say it!"

The bible slammed into the ground with a thundering boom. Your entire body lurched forward with a shriek, setting forth the cry building in your throat.

Through wavering vision, you watched him crawl forward and hover near your shoulders. It took only a moment for to realize that the horrible whining sound was coming from you.

“F-for ever a-and ever,” you croaked, blinking hot tears into the reflection before you.

The pastor stood, towering behind you in the mirror. A menacing shadow, once more the serpent with fangs.

You sniffled, bubbling forth a pitiful hiccup when he placed his hand on your shoulder. His fingers danced over the bone for only a moment before they swept under your chin. He turned your face toward him, shoes thumping around your knees until he stood beside you.

You gave in to his wishes, allowing your gaze to meet those reptilian eyes.

It was only a matter of time before your weakness divulged. Only a matter of time before he sunk his teeth in again.

The slightest pressure pulled on your chin, just as he stepped back and held out his hand, palm upended.

Each blink came with warmth on your cheeks, every breath with fire in your lungs. You slipped your hand into his palm and pressed to your feet.

He lifted your hands, only gently cupped together. Gave his wrist the smallest curve, enough space between your bodies for you to twirl.

You pressed to the tops of your toes and spun just once. A complete rotation, heels pressed down once more. You were met with a vision of yourself before you: red-eyed and puffy, and holding the hand of the devil.

From behind you, he collected both your hands. Held them upwards, bent the elbows with another feathered pressure. You sank back to the floor with graceful repose. Every fiber of your being yawned for relief. The weight of his presence fatigued.

On the glossy floor, you knelt in your former position of prayer. He caught your eye in the mirror and smiled.

From the inner lining of his pocket—where the bible conjured from only minutes ago—appeared a chain of gold.

Unclasping the adornment, he swept it over your head and toward your throat. The pendant clung to your chest like a magnet, kissing your flesh in relief to be home.

You knew what it was before you could even find it in the mirror.

He clasped the chain around your neck and laid your hair back in place. Gently fluffed around your face, meticulously drawn over your shoulders. He watched all the while in the mirror, intently observing his own craftsmanship.

He pinched two fingers under your chin and nudged it downward. He tipped your head a little to the left. He bent the elbows a little more, placed your clasped hands on your right knee.

He stepped back.

Patted you twice on the head, and in the mirror, smiled.

“My lovely Delilah.”

He smoothed his hand down the back of your hair just once.

And there you sat, soaking the cross on your chest in tears.

Foolish girl. You can never escape the mark of God.

[f10werfae]

Pregnancy On The Brain

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry x Short!Shy!Wife!Reader

summary: Now that Henry’s successfully knocked up his precious darling wife, he has to keep an extra eye on her and their little miracle (Dom!Henry) (Emotional loving 🥹)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🫶

Disclaimer: 18+ / Lumberjack!Henry Masterlist / Henry Masterlist / Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Whas wrong sugar? What’s got my woman all teary” Henry frowned seeing his wife all upset in front of the mirror, her lips pouted and her face flustered. “I-I don’t f-fit into my d-dress anymore” Y/n whined seeing how the lemon printed dress barely made its way up her hips, stitches being ripped the harder she pulled on it. “Oi stop it, there’s nothin’ wrong, especially when there’s more of my bunbun to love on” Henry smirked groping the bits of skin Y/n was complaining about.

“B-but- well maybe I-I should e-exercise with you more?” She pondered looking up at him still visibly upset, in fact her chin was starting to wrinkle up from shaking so much, the new changes in her body clearly causing her distress. Henry could tell by the way her stutter started to make itself more visible. “No way. Precious things like you don’t belong on the heavy equipment sweetpea, you want exercise? Let me fuck your pretty pussy till ya sweat” He smirked bending down to nuzzle his nose with hers, his cock hardening once he saw her giggle n latch onto his bicep with both hands.

“T-That’s so naughty” She whispered cuddling the side of her face into his bicep, his other hand pulling back down the dress till it hit the floor, allowing him to play with her ass easily. “Listen while i’m out collecting log wood today, wan’ you to put on another pretty little dress that I bought ya last week, preferably the lilac one, n’ I want you to make somethin’ nice for us to eat when I get home. Can ya do that for me sugar bun?” He whispered running a finger up and down her cheek, his eyes having a dark glaze over them as he looked down at her.

“Mhm mhm! I can!” Y/n smiled happily, the ingredients for her cherry pie already listed out in her head, her cravings for it suddenly growing ten times in a mere few seconds. “Good n’ when I come home, i’ll have a surprise for ya” He grinned kissing her lips softly, before pulling away and grabbing his baseball cap, blowing kisses at her every two seconds as he walked towards his truck. Leaving his wife to her own special mission, the cherry pie.

“Oh I gotta get the cherries!” Y/n giggled slipping on her shoes, grabbing the wooden basket Henry had gotten her especially for her daily walks. Her face vibrant as she skipped down the secluded lane of their back yard, full of luscious fields, heading towards their cherry trees at the edge of the field. Her lilac dress flowing in the slightly cool breeze, her arms swinging the basket back and forth as she hummed a silly little tune she made up. Her eyes widening as she saw the amount of cherries on the tree, there were so many!

“Wow, y-you guys have all grown! Thank y-you so much” She said adorably picking a handful of sweet cherries from one branch, carefully grabbing her glass jar from the basket and plopping them in until it was full. “Well, I suppose it won’t hurt to taste one of ya” She whispered pulling out her blue blanket she always kept in her basket for emergency picnics, her several glass jars of cherries sitting snug inside the basket, while she lay down munching on her home grown fruits.

She still remembers the day she had complained to Henry about his poor eating habits and demanded he bought her seeds for her own plants; now here she was basically nurturing her own garden of babies, ranging from apples all the way to carrots.

‘That one looks like bonnie the rabbit’ Y/n thought looking up at the scarce white clouds flying overhead, her stuffed animal back home looking like one of them, then another looked like Henry’s axe and then one looked like a cherry. “Oh my phone, m-musta left it at home” She giggled realising, her hand reaching for the missing phone to try and take a picture to send to Henry. The warm sun gracing her face, distant sounds of birds providing a sweet lullaby, one which she slowly fell asleep to.

Meanwhile… Henry on the other hand was just about ready to head home, like clockwork he checked his babygirl’s location on life 360, smirking to himself to see that she had stayed at home like she said she would. Heading off back through the country in his pickup truck, he stopped off at a pharmacy by the gas station, picking up his surprise gift for his bunbun; one he knew would solidify their relationship forever. His body sweaty and hot, even though he was wearing baggy jeans a vest, his body painted with a light golden tan.

“Home sweet home” He whispered to himself, dusting off before going inside, remembering how much his precious wife despises their home being messy; Henry still smiles at the memory of her showing her domestic side, how she wouldn’t let him leave without breakfast and would always pack him lunches. Henry on the other hand wouldn’t let her go anywhere unless it was him driving her, after all what else was his purpose other than to look after his naive lover.

“Sugar pie, where are ya?” He shouted throwing his vest off to the side, his boots thundering against the creaky wooden floorboards, his steps leading him into the kitchen; the ingredients for her famous cherry pie laid out on the counter. But no Y/n. His nostrils flared seeing her iphone left beside the ingredients, who knows how long she’s been gone?

‘Did she really fuckin’ leave?’ Was Henry’s first thought, the veins on his neck popping out purely just from the thought, no wonder her tracker hadn’t moved once. Although the thought of her leaving dissipated once he saw Marly the cat coming inside from the fields, their backdoor was left wide open, the sunshine peeking in gratefully. “Ah the fields, the fuckin’ fields” Henry chuckled shaking his head, course she was out there, he knew how much his wife loved exploring the great outdoors; bringing him different coloured rocks and pebbles, watching giddily as he’d place them on the mantle as if they were to be treasured. And they were, because she got them for Him.

Walking out the backdoor he started off walking down the lane, the meadows further away shining green and healthily, but nothing deterred Henry from finding his little love.

Stopping at the start of the line of trees, he saw her, clearly snoring away on her soft picnic blanket; her basket full of jars of cherries beside her. Henry scoffed and smirked seeing just how silly she was, but he couldn’t blame her, not with her current condition. Looming over her figure, she whined and whimpered before opening her eyes fully, a sleepy smile gracing her lips when she realised it was none other than her husband.

“You fuckin’ scared me baby, didn’t know what ta do without ya, ya left your phone n’ everythin’” Henry whispered hunkering down onto his knees, watching as she slowly sat up, her face all puffy and sun-kissed from her nap. “m-m’ sorry I-I forgot it n’ I was too b-busy lookin’ at the clouds a-and”

“s’okay baby, your man knows, can’t blame ya for a little forgetfulness” He chuckled darkly, seeing how sleepy she still was, guiding her to hop onto his back while he gathered up her blanket and basket. “Missed you s-so much” She whispered kissing his back softly as he whistled a tune, “Ah was only gone for around three hours sugar” He chuckled walking down the smooth path, their large luxurious cabin coming into sight. “I-I know that, but I missed you a-anyway” She sighed rubbing her head against his warm back, her eyes threatening to close over once again.

“n’ I missed your pretty pussy-“

“My What!” Y/n’s eyes shot open at her husband’s vulgar words, his back vibrating from his chuckles travelling through, “n’ your tits and your-“

“Stop i-it that’s embarrassing and t-they ain’t pretty mister” She whined kicking her legs which were in his hands, his footsteps stopping abruptly with a deep sigh, “What do I gotta do to prove to you, that I think you’re fuckin’ sexy as hell, n’ I have to stop myself from whipping my cock out everytime I see ya smile” He grunted lifting her up a bit higher before continuing on down the trail, “W-whippin’ your wha out?!” She giggled loudly, her chin resting on his shoulder as she looked at his face from the side.

Henry smirked turning his head to the side, capturing her lips with his, his tongue reaching out for hers but quickly retracting once she wanted more. The tease. “You’re such a m-meanie, no more kissies for you” She grunted moving back to rest against his back, his hand leaving her leg to reach back and spank her ass with a pop; her body jerking up with an excited squeal.

“Try that again sweetheart n’ we’ll see what happens” He growled finally stepping into the cooler cabin, setting her down on top of their counters, beside his plastic bag from the pharmacy which had her small present. “I-is my present in here?!” She said excitedly picking up the bag, only to pout when Henry pulled it away from her grumpily.

“I dunno if you deserve it honey, ya worried me today, had me thinkin’ ya left your man up ‘ere in the mountains” He ‘tsk’ed and caged her in with an arm on each side of her, his nose rubbing up and down her cheek sensually, her hands fisting his shirt desperately as she pouted. “I-I dunno what happened H-hen, I swear! M-m jus’ forgetful nowadays” She whimpered nuzzling into his chest like a kitten, her legs caged around his waist, her face dipping down to place kisses onto his neck and up his chin.

“Alright alright fine, since you wan’ it so badly” He smirked cupping her face and kissing her nose, his hands reached into the bag and pulled out the small box, a clearblue box. “Ya know what this is bunny don’t ya?” Taking out the small stick and twirling it in his hands, he passed it to his wife, who was visibly shocked and shaken at what he’d just given her. “A-a pregnancy test?” She whispered looking at the foreign object, was this the condition Henry was talking about?

“I wan’ you to take it for me babybun, see if we have our present in there already” He smirked nipping her lip playfully, his hand rubbing over the bottom of her stomach affectionately, her small gasps filling his ears. “I-is this why my dresses d-don’t fit?”

“Find out n’ see baby” He smiled taking her hand in his, and pulling her into their large bathroom, with a bathtub big enough to fit four people at the most. “W-will you stay with me? M-m scared” She whimpered pulling up the skirt of her dress, her face flustered at the thought of him watching her pee, but then again this wouldn’t be the first time. There’d been multiple times where he’d simply barge into the toilet while she was in there, just for his routine goodbye kiss before work.

“Don’t worry sugar pie, m’not leavin’, not now and not ever” He smiled, almost sickly, his hands holding onto hers, quite comical because his wife was simply peeing yet needed all the support possible. “Alright pass it over ‘ere” He said watching her finish up, the test still in her shaky hands. “N-no way it’s full of my pee” She gasped horrified putting it down onto the counter herself, turning to distract herself by washing her hands.

Those three minutes felt like utter hell for them both, with Y/n ultimately sitting on Henry’s lap whilst he was on the toilet cover, his voice softly shushing her small whimpers and nervous hiccups as she looked at the test left on the table. “S’okay pretty girl, daddy will look after ya both” Kissing her neck wetly he could already feel her pussy throbbing at his words, even during a nerve wracking situation like this, a life altering moment.

“Ya promise?” Holding his deep blue eyes, her own looked glossy and scared, her hands fiddling with his fingers erratically. “I pinky promise” Linking their fingers together he kissed her lips softly, her head pushing forward wanting to deepen it, she missed three hours worth of his kisses today; she was not having it!

Although their little kiss session was interrupted by the beep of the timer on Henry’s phone, Y/n jumping up to her feet and leaning her head over to look at the plastic stick, her breath hitching in her throat. “what does a cross mean?” Her voice came out dry and hoarse, and for once not a stutter was in sight, she knew what it meant. “My gorgeous little wife is pregnant, with my baby” He smiled to himself still sitting on the toilet cover, he already knew the result, months of vitamins and unprotected sex would eventually have lead to this; all it took was some time.

“I-i’m gonna be a mommy?” Her hand softly slid down to cup the slight pouch on her stomach, her fingers grazing over her fabric slowly, a small smile finding its way onto her cace. “I-i’m gonna be a mommy!”

“mhm, so prouda ya babygirl” Henry smirked feeling up her thigh, his hand going up to grope her bare ass, his new baby momma still coming to terms with the fact she was carrying their little life; yet all he wanted to do was to fuck her good, and if he could he would knock her up again. The idea of his wife all round and big, full of him, got him so hot and bothered, her tits all swollen along with her belly, safely housing their own miracle.

“H-how do we know when i-it’s comin?”

“I’ll sort all that out baby, ya don’t need to worry your pretty self, after-all ya got pregnancy on the brain. Don’t want ya forgettin’ anythin” He cooed standing up to kiss her forehead, his arms enveloping her against him, feeling her nod and relax in his arms. All according to his plan.

After he was finally able to get her to come to bed with him, he found her hands naturally gravitating towards her stomach, her protective maternal instincts already kicking in so early. “I-if we have a g-girl can we name it a-after a flower?” She asked innocently looking up at him, her hands on top of his, on her stomach. “N’ what if it’s a boy babybun?” He chuckled kissing the tip of her nose, “I dunno haven’t t-thought of it yet! Stop stressin’ me out!” She whined almost inaudibly as Henry murmured sweet soft apologies, his lips coating the side of her face in gentle kissies, her favourite.

“T-thought you said you was sleepy” She whispered wrapping her arms around his neck, caressing his nape as he continued to plant little love bites on his lover, his kisses leaving her all hot and bothered. “I am, wasn’t lyin’” Henry pulled back quirking his eyebrow, “T-then tell it to calm down, o-or else ya won’t be able to sleep” Y/n said shyly pointing at the tent starting to grow in Henry’s trousers, ignoring the fact that Henry had basically bunched her dress up to her breasts, his fingers rubbing over her slick wet folds.

“Why don’t you tell my pussy to calm down” He grumbled rubbing her own slickness all over her, acting as if it was lube, his fingers greedily pinching her swollen jutted out clit. “Y-you started it! baby, tell your d-daddy to stop bein silly” She whined looking down and rubbing her still stomach, even though there was still no dramatic visible growth, the potential of it made her emotional and excited.

Licking into her mouth Henry held the back of her neck gently, both of her hands still on her stomach, while his other hand was busy messing with her second set of lips. Tugging, rubbing and spanking at her sensitive button, causing her body to jolt and shiver into the kiss, her tongue actively sucking on his passionately. Her chin slowly growing wet and slick, both of them not caring at how much filth there was. Kissing her sensually one more time he pushed her fully onto her back, his knees straddling her.

“Oh baby I hope they got your eyes, gon’ have me wrapped round their lil finger jus’ like their momma” He groaned seeing her just batting her eyelashes at him, a mischievous smile on her face as she felt up his torso, “I-I wan’ them to look l-like their daddy, s-so handsome” She whispered looking away from his eyes shyly. His hands now pulling the dress up fully over her head, giving her tits a bounce and grope; his voice chuckling deeply in her ear as he licked up her neck, “You’re so g’damn sexy, can’t wait to see ya all full of me, walkin’ around so everyone knows I pumped ya full of my cum”

“mhm s-so dirty” Whimpering and writhing, she felt his fingers go back down to her slick centre, the tip of his cock slapping against her clit roughly, almost imitating the spank of a hand. “Aw baby, we both know you’re the dirty one here, weren’t ya the one beggin’ me to kiss your pretty little pussy the other day?”

“Y-you said if I needed help w-with the tingles ya would help” She whined feeling the head of his shaft slip through her sensitive folds, his nestle of curls at the base of his dick softly scratching against her button, his heavy balls sitting against her swollen lips. His length slowly slipping in through her puffy pussy, both of them sighing out in relief and pleasure as he bottomed out inside of her; Y/n’s hands cupping his face to keep his forehead on hers, nuzzling their noses together for comfort like they always did.

“Gah hav’ knocked ya up and you’re still so tight, almost like when ya were a virgin honey” Henry growled pecking her pouty lips, her voice whining at his choice of words, her legs securely wrapped around his waist. “You take me so well honey, could fuck your pregnant pussy all day n’ night if a could”

“W-well you can, y-you jus’ don’t” She snarked back, clearly regretting her decision straight after when Henry quirked his brow at her, making her shut up in a mere few seconds. “Say that again n’ i’ll tie ya to the bed, won’t be leavin’ since ya want me to play with my pussy so much” He teased thrusting in and out at a slow pace, his one hand cupping her face, while the other toyed with her nipples. “Can’t wait to see these pretty tits fill up with milk, I already know it’ll taste as sweet as you do sugar pie, you’ll let me have a taste won’t ya?”

Small mewls left her slightly opened lips, her eyes widen open and already glimmering with tears as Henry slowly moved their position, where he was now spooning her, their hips smacking together to create a lewd sound. “Mhmhm” She moaned pushing her tits together just for him, knowing how much he adored just simply looking at them, sometimes he’d even hide her bras just so she’d walk about their home, her pebbles nipples poking through the fabric.

“So gorgeous, my pretty wife” He smirked leaning over and spitting right onto the valley between her breasts, hearing her squeak as he watched her massage his spit onto her globes, she was so dirty for him; only him. Before she had met Henry, Y/n L/n would never have even stepped a foot out of line, and now she was the one making the line. Hugging onto her, he kissed her shoulders and back so affectionately, he wanted to make her cum. “I-I love you so much pretty girl, ya make me so happy, you n’ our lil’ miracle” He moaned feeling her clench around him, his hand reaching over to momentarily slap her breasts together, before reaching down and drawing figure eights on her button.

Hearing no reply he looked over to see tears filing down her face continuously, her lip hidden between her teeth as she bit down harshly, her hands fisting the sheets tightly to keep her from squealing at how deep he was going. “What’s wrong bunny? Am I hurtin’ ya?” He said slowing down, concern lacing his voice as his rough calloused hands felt up her sides. “N-no, a-am jus’ really happy, love you too hubby” She smiled blinking away a few stray tears as she turned her head to face him, her tongue outstretched already waiting to tangle around his, muffled squeals leaving her lips as she felt him return back to his rhythm.

“I’m close babybun, ya wanna cum with me?” He asked breaking away from their kiss with a peck, their lips still touching as he spoke, her eyes staring up at his softly but intensely, her head nodding; her lips wanting nothing more than to his his soft ones. Thank God she had forced him to start wearing lip balm.

Y/n found herself clawing onto his arm that was wrapped around her waist, her teeth clenched, sobs wrecking through her body purely just because she felt so loved and so intimate. Henry’s warm cum flooding her almost instantly as she herself felt his fingers rub her button at the same time, her hole clenching around him for the last time, giving out once she let out a raspy breath.

“Did so good for me sugar plum, don’t worry I gotcha, ya can rely on me” He whispered kissing the shell of his ear, feeling her clench around him a few more times before pulling out slowly to not make her uncomfortable. After a few silent seconds of Henry combing her hair back with his fingers, his soft voice shushing her quiet sobs as he rocked her back and forth against his body.

Henry couldn’t help but worry, he’d never seen his precious give such an emotional reaction, had he pushed her too far? She hadn’t used her safe-word ‘cherry’ so he had assumed she was still okay during their intense love-making session. The tiny tattoo of a ‘H’ on the back of her neck receiving wet kisses while he waited for her to calm down.

“Hold on pretty, m’jus’ gonna run us a bath alright?” Receiving nothing but a shake of a head and a ‘don’t leave me a-alone’ He smiled picking her up against his still nude body, sitting her on top of the counter as he filled up the tub with warm water, making sure to put in some of lavender bubbles she adored so much to relax in.

“c’mere sugar, don’t worry i’m here too” He whispered helping her step into the purple coloured water, letting her sit sideways on his lap, her head laying on his shoulder; that’s how big their bath tub is.

“M-m sorry for bein’ a crybaby, I didn’t mean it” She whispered lifting her head up to kiss his beard covered cheek, her energy clearly spent and gone.

“Don’t you ever apologise for bein’ you, what’d I tell ya? If you’re cryin’, i’m here, if you’re angry then i’m here, you’re happy then i’m here. This is for life sweets, nothin’ is gonna put me off ya I promise. Well except sometimes ya stink but-“

“Stop it!” She said smiling a little, Henry’s heart lightening a little seeing her vibe jolt up a bit in comparison to earlier. “Now that i’ve seen that beautiful smile a’ yours, care to share what’s buggin’ my wife so much?”

“I-it really was nothin’ bad. Was jus’ thinkin’ about how- how happy I am w-with you. W-When I think back to when I was 17, I-I was always so worried i’d end up un-unloved because of my problems; but y-you’ve never made me feel like a burden, n’ now w-we’re havin’ a baby together” She smiled finishing her explanation, looking up at Henry with a blissful smile on her face, her hands bringing his to her stomach, “O-our baby” She giggled wiggling excitedly on his lap,

“There’s no other woman on this Earth i’d rather have a baby with-“

“So i-if an alien”

“Shut it you. Let me continue my speech to you now that you’ve done yours” He chuckled sprinkling water in her face playfully, “You’re the one for me, n’ you’d never be a burden because I want to bother with you, I want everything with ya. Gah, you’re just fuckin’ irresistible n’ I don’t think I can live without ya. I don’t know what piece a shit has said things to ya but, you’re my precious sugar plum princess. In our little world, right up ‘ere where no one can get us, I promise to keep ya n’ our little miracle safe. Cause you’re both mine n’ i’m not afraid to show it” He finished, twirling the wedding band round her finger, his eyes staring at her; simply smiling she leant forward connecting their lips together, “N’ y-you’re mine”

———

PSA: I really am proud of this piece, and hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it 🫶

Library blog of works: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

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Hope you all have a lovely week🫶

Can’t wait to write more dad!lumberjack!Henry xoxo Fae

[petaltexturedskies]

October was a beautiful month at Green Gables, when the birches in the hollow turned as golden as sunshine and the maples behind the orchard were royal crimson and the wild cherry trees along the lane put on the loveliest shades of dark red and bronzy green, while the fields sunned themselves in aftermaths.

L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

[weird-an]

Neil took all the air away and Billy can't breathe.

Susan is driving the Camaro and Billy sits in Neil's truck, on the passenger's side. The radio isn't working and Billy's fingernails dig into the ball of his hand whenever he sees the Camaro in the rearview mirror taking a bump in the road a little too hard.

It's a chance, Neil told him, when they crossed the border to Indiana. Billy chews on his cheek, because a chance doesn't mean a choice.

Welcome to Hawkins the sign says. Hell just has another name.

It smells like pine trees and prejudices and all wrong. No salty breezes, no waves crashing into the shore in the distance.

Cherry Lane doesn't have any cherries, only a messy backyard and room that's way too close to Neil's. Max puts seashells in a glass and Billy wants to crush them, because they don't belong here.

He doesn't belong here.

Highschool is all the same in the worst ways, full of demons and a hierarchy Billy climbs up with ease. The first circle of hell holds its advantages. Boys are still pretty and Billy has to pretend not to see it, steps up his act, fucks all the girls that think California is something out of a fairytale and don't know the meaning behind his ear ring.

He lies through his teeth, no matter how much his tongue is bleeding.

It's torture. Doesn't help that his not- a- sister Max hangs out with a bunch of nerds, of boys and somehow Billy ends up driving her to Steve fucking Harrington's place one day.

Steve Harrington with his dangerous pretty face, who doesn't seem to care for Billy's bullshit. Billy wants to punch him, because otherwise he might kiss him.

Harrington waves at him from the door, after Max is already inside.

He smiles, cutting Billy wide and open. The sun doesn't shine in hell, but it sure feels like it.

Billy stays in the car. He can't breathe and now his heart stops, too.

He drives away.

Steve smiles at him at school, too. Billy turns around whenever he sees him. Maybe angels exist and they wear polo shirts and designer shoes and bitch about English class.

Billy wonders if there might be a chance here that Neil doesn't know about.

It's the first day of spring and Steve smiles at him in the parking lot.

Billy smiles back.

[blackpoolhistory]

The Welcome pub at the Vicarage Lane & Cherry Tree Road junction in 1995 & 2009.

Today the pub is called The Cherry Tree.

[kisskawa]

— here comes the sun title creds

oikawa’s been trying to pass you a note all lesson.

he’s wondering how many more times he can fake a cough without being too noticable, four has already passed his lips and he thinks five might be toeing the line. instead, oikawa stretches in his seat, long limbs reaching out as he waves not so subtly in your direction.

you still don’t notice. oikawa deflates.

your attention has been stolen by the view outside. the sun peaks through spun sugar clouds, dotting a picture blue sky, not a flaw in sight. a gentle breeze encourages the largest cloud to move onto new paths, falling behind a lane of cherry blossom trees. pink dances in the wind, flowers swaying in time before they set off into the skies. and its only when the loose petal that you’ve been following flies up into the air and beyond your vision, that oikawa finally manages to catch your focus. he’s nothing if not determined.

giving up on the note tucked between his slender fingers, oikawa takes to making obvious signs. a point at himself, then you, followed by a thumb at the door, a questionable little dance to mimic the flowers outside, and a finger tapped to his wrist where he bears no watch ends the message.

“am i interrupting your conversation?” your economics teacher deadpans, brow raised unamusedly.

“not at all, sir,” oikawa swivels his gaze back to the front of the classroom, flashing his usual charming grin. you push your smile into the palm of your hand in an attempt to stifle your giggles. oikawa spares a glance to his left and you take the chance to nod eagerly, his cheer grows.

the bell takes an age to ring. oikawa’s been counting down the minutes, seconds, and it’s not a moment later that your palm is in his, tugging you out the door.

the laugh that escapes you is loud and spirited, neither of you seeming to mind all too much that your shared joy almost had you toppling down the stairs. because soon enough, you and tooru stand underneath the blue skies, circled by pink petals and one with the pretty scenery. in all your joy, lips curved and cheeks appled, you don’t notice oikawa’s pulled out his phone to capture the moment, heart stuttering at the picture he’s captured. you won’t notice until four months later, when the blossoms are long gone and oikawa has since become tooru.

tooru, you learn, has the awful habit of tucking his phone away. under sofa cushions, between blankets, almost always out of sight. so it’s only when you call your phone and find it mostly beneath his pillow, that you notice how you decorate his screen.

in an instant, you’re pulled back to early spring. cherry blossoms, conjoined hands and an echo of pleased laughter.

“did you find it?” tooru calls, and you respond with the candid of the memory.

tooru can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed about the picture, not when you’re looking at him with summer warmth. instead, he shrugs, feigning nonchalance despite his heart being a mere flutter away from leaving his chest altogether, “wanted to remember that moment.”

this time, you turn your own phone towards tooru. and he stares, in disbelief then love, as his eyes meet his own, softening at the picture of himself. cherry blossoms, conjoined hands and an echo of pleased laughter.

tooru’s heart leaves. it’s all yours.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Reading to him

Self-Aware! Platonic! Karma x GN! Reader

Description: Day Five of BSD Cast living in your world. You had a nervous sixteen-year-old boy to talk to.

Short Platonic fluff

Sequel to Television

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

______

You were wiping dust off your bookshelf. You had a small collection of fiction literature in your apartment. To tell the truth, you had more at home, but, your apartment was too small to keep them all. But, if Fitzgerald will fulfil his promise, you will have more place. And more books.

You were thinking. Still thinking about your new life. New friends. The initial panic and confusion almost disappeared. But, you still were worried. What if someone hurt BSD Gang? What if they hurt someone? You bite your lip. You need to take your mind off bad things. That's why you were whipping off the dust. You like taking care of books.

You were deep in thought. And didn't notice, how Karma walked behind you.

But, when you suddenly hear the loud noise of the vacuum cleaner, you jumped and turned around.

"Karma?! Please, a little warning before turning on the vacuum cleaner behind a person's back."

Karma, who started to vacuum the carpet, also jumped, started by your jump. He quickly turned the vacuum off.

"I-I am sorry, for startling you." Karma looked down in embarrassment. You wave your hand.

"No, don't worry, I am not angry. But, Karma, what with the vacuum cleaner?"

Karma still looked embarrassed, but, this time, he looked at you.

"I wanted to help you with cleaning up. I want to be useful."

You smiled at him. It was a nice gesture. You slowly walked towards Karma.

You could see a strip of rough skin encircling his neck. The only reminder of a slave collar.

Karma already arrived in this world without the collar. If you understand correctly, the collar fall of the moment Karma was spared by Fyodor. You had a feeling, that there were some more to it, but, you don't want to bother BSD Gang with questions. For now. When they become more familiar with this world, you will ask your questions.

"Thank you, Karma, but, I wasn't planning to clean all the apartment, only my bookshelf."

Karma looked down again.

You sigh softly. For the last five days, Karma wanted to be useful. And constantly offered his help.

Poor boy. He had no childhood. And, you had a feeling, that he was in BSD only to show Ace's and Fyodor's cruelness.

You wanted to make something nice for him. You quickly glance back to your books. An idea popped up in your head.

"Karma, you knew, how to read?" suddenly ask you. Karma looked confused.

"Um... yes, I can read."

You asked the next question.

"Have you read any interesting books?"

Karma shook his head.

"No, Ace... And after that, I tried to be as useful as I can, so, I had no time to read."

You carefully place your hands on Karma's shoulders and gave them a squeeze.

"Karma, do you want me to read you something?"

Karma looked at you. He was even more confused. But, there were sparks of happiness in his eyes.

"Read to me? Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

You nodded in conformation. You really want to read to him. You point at your couch.

"You won't be a bother. Come on, sit down, make yourself comfortable."

Karma smiled and sat down on the couch.

He looked happy.

No one ever has read to him. You remembered, how you loved, when your mother read you bedtime stories. And, you just wanted to share this happy experience with Karma.

You return the vacuum cleaner to where it should stand (under the table). Then you draped a blanket over Karma's shoulders and set on the opposite side of him. You were holding a book in your hands.

"It was one of my favorite books. But, please, if you don't like it, just tell me, and I will choose a different book. Deal?" You looked at the Karma. He nodded, his eyes shine in anticipation.

You clear your throat and start reading.

"If you want to find Cherry-Tree Lane all you have to do is ask the Policeman at the cross-roads..." (1)

____________

"You have it for tonight, darling," whispered Jane, and she tucked him in just as Mary Poppins used to do…." (1) you read the last sentence if the book and closed it. You looked up at Karma. He started to nod off. But, the huge smile he had on his face was the biggest reward you will ever have.

Karma didn't ask for another book. He seems enchanted in a book about the best nanny in the world. He laughs at jokes, took his time to look at illustrations.

You might choose a children book for Karma. But you have your reasons.

He was fourteen. But he never had a childhood. And, if for a short period of time you can give him his childhood back, you were ready to do it.

You help Karma lay down on the couch, tuck him in, and left the room.

____

1. Direct quotes from "Mary Poppins" book.

A/N: I loved "Mary Poppins" when I was a child and still like to re-read the books.

[thedeathdeelers]

ughhhh that was the most beautiful proposal they could’ve ever written for these two, i’m floored.

like they could’ve done the cliched one like the failed attempt on the boat- the one that was postponed purely because sunjae realised how much of a big deal sol’s news was — of her taking on this huge feat ie finally stepping up and deciding to venture into the directing world

he didn’t want to do anything that would take the limelight off her moment.

they could’ve given us a montage of him trying different generic proposals the usual rich guy stuff; renting out a theme park or taking her on an expensive trip of a fancy dinner

…but all they did was show us sunjae being the supportive patient wonderful boyfriend that he is to sol; waiting for her while he let her put her dream first — probably thinking about how her dream for so long was just for him to be happy, how she put everything on the back burner for him — and now it’s his turn to wait and make sure he lifts her up as much as he can

AND THEN. AND THEN.

when it’s all done and she’s submitted her movie?? they go on a leisurely walk?? surrounded by cherry blossom trees and real petals (throwback to sunjae trying to ask her out in one of the many timelines with inhyuk playing the role of tree) walking down memory lane in a way— very naturally recreating the scene of them making a wish together

only for him to surprise her with his wish- of having her stay by him forever and ever i CANNOOOOTTTTTTTY